Forcing the smile onto her face wasn’t easy as she dug her nails into her palms. She had to breathe, they were in the office right now and she’d get fired if she punched the snobs face. Having Conner Richardson as a partner would make it impossible to focus on the new advertisement and he knew it. He had that smug look on his aged face that just spoke maliciousness, not that Harper had bothered to recognize it when she had introduced them to each other and left to attend to her own work.

“I look forward to working with you, Claire, I remember how things were when I was an intern,” he said, reaching his weathered hand out for a handshake.

Claire took the hand and, speaking as naturally as possible, replied, “please, the pleasure is all mine.”

He gripped her hand just a little too tightly when he shook it, “Oh really? For some reason, I don’t believe you.”

Claire ripped her hand away. “Then I won’t put on the act.” Managing her skirt, she took her seat at a desk. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”

“The Logo concept is already in your file.” He motioned to the manila folder and sat himself down. “Now, it seems that this company wants something with a goat and something about being unique.”

“We could make a goat out of snowflakes,” Claire said. “But, that is a bit too wintery for a year-round clothing company.”

“No, but it’s a good concept.”

“Do not patronize me,” Claire snapped.

“Look, dear,” Claire gagged at the nickname, this man was old enough to be her father and even if he didn’t mean it that way it made her sick. “If you want a good rapport here, I suggest that you don’t antagonize the person you’re working closest with.” He continued looking through the folder for other information.

“Sorry, if I don’t like working with an abuser,” Claire all but growled.

“Alleged abuser,” Richardson said with the tilt of an accent that mocked Claire’s, “You proved nothing.”

“Only because you erased Jasper’s existence and my video.”

“Oh, Claire,” he mocked once again, “you have such a wild imagination. I still don’t know why you were hiding in the closet that day.” Claire grit her teeth turning her attention back to the file, but, despite his rhetoric, Richardson wasn’t about to let her rage simmer beneath the surface. Of course he wasn’t. “By the way, who helped with the trespassing charges? It couldn’t have been your parents seeing as they’re, well, you know.”

“All you need to know is that they’re dealt with. In fact,” she grinned a bestial grin, “there isn’t even a record of it anymore.”

“And pray tell, how did you manage that?”

“Oh, you know, connections make all the difference.” She moved her hand flippantly, “I thought you of all people would know that.”

“I see.” Ha! She had him with that one. He would be quiet for the next bit at least and, maybe, she could get some actual work done. Claire flipped through the file again. “Would a fingerprint work instead of snowflakes?” She asked.