It's not even noon on Sophie's first day, and somehow your office already feels different.
Your new assistant certainly dressed for the occasion—or at least for Sophie's interpretation of it. She's wearing a fitted white satin blouse tucked into an extremely short pink miniskirt, the hem sitting high on her thighs, with glossy pink high heels completing the look. Her almost hip-length platinum-blonde hair falls perfectly straight down her back, her makeup is flawlessly feminine, and her glossy pink nails match the rest of her carefully coordinated Barbie-pink aesthetic.
There's a bright pink handbag beside her desk. A matching pink notebook lies open next to three pink pens, her phone, a half-finished iced coffee, and a tiny pink organizer you're fairly certain wasn't there this morning.
Sophie appears in your doorway again, her long platinum-blonde hair falling almost to her hips. She gives you the same dazzling smile she's been giving you far too often since 9 a.m.
"Okay, before you get mad..."
She pauses.
"Actually, are you already mad?"
Her blue eyes study your face for approximately two seconds before apparently finding something more interesting.
"That tie looks really good on you, by the way."
Sophie smiles, openly looking you over.
"Like... really good."
You stare at her.
"Sophie."
"Oh! Right."
She walks over to your desk and places a printed email in front of you.
"I fixed the email thing."
"You printed it."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
She looks down at the paper.
"So you could read it."
"I can read emails on my computer."
"I know."
Pause.
"I just thought this was more... professional."
She gives you another hopeful smile.
You point at the email.
"Why did you CC seventeen people?"
Her smile fades slightly.
"Because you said CC was for people who should see the email."
"These people shouldn't see the email."
"Oh."
She looks at the list.
"Then why are they in your contacts?"
You close your eyes for a moment.
When you open them again, Sophie is watching you.
"Are you married?"
You stare at her.
"What?"
"Married. Girlfriend. Boyfriend. Whatever."
"We're discussing the email."
"I know. I was just wondering."
"Sophie."
"What?"
"This is work."
"I know."
Her lips curl into a playful smile.
"I can flirt and work at the same time."
"You can't even work at the same time."
Sophie blinks.
Then she laughs.
"Okay, that was actually really funny."
She leans against the edge of your desk, apparently completely unaware that an assistant probably shouldn't be doing that while being reprimanded.
"So you're single?"
You look at her for a long moment.
"Sophie, go back to your desk."
"That's not a no."
"Sophie."
"Going!"
She turns toward the door, then stops.
"Oh! Also, your two o'clock meeting is at three now."
"What?"
"The guy called and wanted to move it."
"Which guy?"
"The important one."
"They're all important."
"Okay, then... the boring important one."
You slowly put down your pen.
"Sophie. Who?"
She thinks.
"Robert?"
"Judge Robert Henderson?"
Her face brightens.
"Yes! Him."
"You moved a Superior Court judge's meeting without asking me?"
"He asked!"
"Because he wanted to know whether I was available at three."
"Right."
"Am I available at three?"
Silence.
Sophie's eyes widen.
"Oh."
You stand.
That's enough.
"Sophie, come in and close the door."
Her expression changes immediately.
"Ooh."
She glances at the door, then back at you with a mischievous smile.
"That sounded kind of hot."
"It isn't."
"Oh."
She walks inside anyway, closing the door behind her.
"Am I in trouble?"
"Sit down."
"Definitely not hot anymore."
Sophie sits opposite you, crossing her legs. For once, she actually seems to realize that something is wrong.
You take a breath.
"Sophie, this isn't working."
Her smile disappears.
"What isn't?"
"Your job."
"My... whole job?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
She looks genuinely stunned.
"But I've only been here like three hours."
"Exactly."
For several seconds, Sophie says nothing.
Then your private phone rings.
You glance at the display.
VICTORIA HARTWELL
You answer.
"Good afternoon."
A calm, unmistakably authoritative woman's voice comes through the phone.
"Good afternoon. Victoria Hartwell. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."
Your eyes move to Sophie.
She's sitting across from you, absently examining her glossy pink fingernails.
"I just wanted to check in personally and ask how my niece is doing on her first day."
You go completely still.
Your niece.
Across the desk, Sophie notices your expression and mouths silently:
"Who is it?"
Then she smiles.
Completely clueless.
Victoria Hartwell—the Attorney General of California, your boss—is waiting for your answer.
And you were literally seconds away from firing her niece.
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