It was our first day of work since the new year started and I was...late. 10 minutes but still. What an amazing start of the year. Lukas is not going to forget this. I opened the office doors, prepared for passive-aggressiveness, but as I came in, the only thing he said was: "Oh, hello Spencer."
I should've been relieved, but there was this glee in his voice and eyes that made me think this was not all. I was proven right a second later when he picked up a newspaper, which I have only noticed now, from his keyboard and opened it. When he found the right page, he cleared his throat theatrically. Whatever will follow was definitely not good. For me.
"Top ten wealthiest New Yorkers of 2018..."
Oh no. I completely forgot about that stupid New York Times list. This is bad. So bad. Since when does he read the newspaper anyway.
"Number four..."
Please tell me they didn't use my full name this year. I don't know why that would happen but...please. Please. Plea-
"Morgana and..." he stifled a chuckle.
Fuck.
"Aronus Spencer."
Double fuck. He looked at me, very pleased with himself and he was trying very hard to stop himself from laughing.
"Ok, get it out of your system," I said and sank in my chair.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he responded not at all convincingly.
I sighed and must have been sporting a very irritated expression (which was one of his favorites) because he started laughing. I rolled my eyes, but despite my best efforts, I smiled as well. I couldn't help it. His laugh was too infectious.
"Are you done?"
He composed himself but didn't stop smiling.
"It's really not that bad."
"Yes, it is. It's stupid."
"Oh, Aronus," I bit the inside of my cheek and pursed my lips "Don't be such a baby."
"Please don't make this a thing."
He smirked evilly.
"Please!"
"Ok, fine. God, you don't let me have any fun."
I breathed a sigh of relief.
"I can see why you never told me. This name is a gold mine," he said with a chuckle.
I glared at him.
"But I won't use it to make fun of you, relax."
"Ok, thanks."
"Much," he said quietly.
"What?"
"Let's continue with the article shall we."
" No, come on..."
I tried to snatch the paper from him, but he evaded my grip.
"Owners of the Spencer Inc. and the Ember Cruises Ltd., known mostly for their prestigious yacht and cruise lines, have moved up from last years' sixth place. Their net worth is estimated to be 18.5 billion dollars which is 3 billion more than last year at the same time..."
I knew I was red. He was staring at the article.
"Holy fuck! You have this much money?!"
"Um, well, technically it's half and a lot of it is the family heirloom and-and even that is incorporated in the company, which makes it a little more complicated..."
"But around half of this is yours?"
"Uh...Yeah, I-I guess."
He threw the newspaper at me: "I knew you weren't disinherited!"
Right. I forgot that I told him that.
I scratched the back of my head in embarrassment: "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I just didn't want you to freak out."
"You thought I would freak out?!"
"Well, you kind of did just now," I said softly and folded the paper.
He stared at me for a moment and then leaned back in his seat: "Ok, yeah that's fair."
There was a moment of silence.
"Is Morgana..."
"She's my sister."
"Oh. And here I thought you were married and never told me."
"I wouldn't do that. I am married already. I'm your work wife remember?"
He cocked an eyebrow, but decided to play along: "I thought you wanted a divorce."
I shrugged: "I decided to give you another chance."
"Oh did you now?"
He leaned forward and sounded flirty. That made me feel a very unexpected sensation in my stomach.
"Yes, well, I'm not getting any younger."
He smirked at that: "I'm the best you could get anyway."
I made an overdramatic offended sound: "I'm sorry, which one of us is rich here?"
He shook his head: "I knew you would say that. Why do you always have to bring up the money?"
We grinned at each other. This was fun.
He grabbed the newspaper and opened it again.
"Huh. Your birthday is in February?"
"Yes. Is that mentioned?"
"Mhm. You are older than me."
"Really?"
"Yeah. By three months."
I grinned. Well, well, well. This could be very entertaining.
"It makes sense. I was always more mature."
He closed the paper and said with wide eyes: "More mature? You? Mr. You-live-in-a-box-you-are-spongebob-squarepants."
I can't believe he remembered that. He probably kept stuff like this in his back pocket for blackmail didn't he?
"I had to make it more relatable to you, so you could properly understand my point. You see, children your age are so easily distracted. That was the only way I could've kept your attention."
He gritted his teeth: "Whatever you say, old man."
I laughed.
"Ok, what do we have to do today'"
He put away the newspaper.
"No cases. We just have to go through last years' reports."
I cringed at the word ˝report ˝.
"What? Through all of them?"
"Yes. But it's going to be quick. We just have to make sure everything is as it should be and digitalize them."
"Digitalize?"
He looked at me like I was an idiot. I felt like one, so it was warranted.
"We have to put the information into our computer database. It's mostly checking boxes and tipping numbers."
"Why don't we do that right away?"
He sighed like he couldn't believe my stupidity: "Because we need to wait for the trial to be over. And for these," he tapped on the box with files "the court has already spoken. Those whose trials are still going on are not here obviously."
I nodded but made a very exaggerated sigh.
"Stop whining."
Even making one report with him is a nightmare, but going through a whole bunch? That's what actual phobias are made of. He opened the box and pulled out the first one. He absentmindedly went through his hair with his fingers. His hair was now brushed to one side so it didn't obstruct his left profile anymore. He had a beau- I mean nice left side. Maybe it's not going to be so bad. I mean, we get on way better than before. Yeah. yeah, it'll be alright.
X
"You are such an asshole!" I shouted at him.
"If you knew how to spell, I wouldn't have to be."
"And if you didn't mumble, I would've tipped it correctly."
"Yeah, sure, it's my fault you don't know how to use a keyboard."
We've been at this for about an hour and a half and I was this close to pushing him out of the window. If we had one. On that note...Why the hell don't we have any windows? And more importantly...Why the hell have I never really paid attention to that?!
"Fine!" I stood up "Then you do the whole thing if you're so great."
"Alright. If you are unable to do your half, I guess I can bail you out."
One-half of the files he tipped, I dictated and for the other half, we switched.
"I can! It's you who makes it hard by being a jerkface."
"Oh, a jerkface? Did a third grader help you with that one?"
I clenched my fists.
"Just...Just tell me what I have to write next?"
If we continued like that, we will never be finished, so I took the high ground and let it go.
"Why are there two different dates on this case? Mine shows 22.4.2018 and yours 23.4.2018," he said.
I shrugged: "You must have written the wrong one."
He blinked in shock: "I wrote...You think I'm the one who made the mistake? It's you who is prone to them. "
I scrunched my nose in annoyance: "Oh really? Let me remind you of Daniella Clark or if you looked at your report, Daniel Stark."
He bit his lip, but his face stayed completely blank. He sat down and smirked at me: "And let me remind you of Friderik Topson, 14th of Marc, the fact that you once wrote DIY instead of DUI and my personal favourite, that drug dealer under whos' profile you wrote sex, drugs and rock-n-roll, and then forgot to erase it."
He leaned back, his feet now on the desk and arms behind his head. His smug face was unbearable.
"You know what?"
He tilted his head as if he was humouring me by allowing me to talk.
"You should show your seniors some respect," was the only thing I could think of.
Not a winning comeback I admit.
He rolled his eyes: "Want to finish this before your dementia hits?"
"Yeah fine. But stop being an asshole."
"Stop being incompetent."
"Dick."
"Moron."
"Deuchwater."
"Imbecile."
"Kreten."
"What?"
"It means jerk. I went international."
"You speak another language?" he seemed very excited by that information.
"Uh, yes."
"Which one?"
"Slovenian."
"That's so cool. I don't know anyone who speaks it."
What just happened? Where did the fight go?
"It's a small country."
"How come you know it?"
"My mother."
"Oh, ok."
"Do you speak any..."
"Let's do this shall we?"
I nodded. He really didn't want me to know too much about him. I've always noticed that, but it was at this moment that I realized how secretive he actually was. And for some reason, it annoyed me.