Justice Served

10 | Here We Go

Chapter Ten
Rhys Chandler

I typically never do what he's asks of me because he comes up with outrageous suggestions for me that are always money motivated. If I had to compare Ian with anyone it would be the fictional character Mr. Krabs because of his obsession with money, the only thing that sets Ian apart from the aquatic creature is the fact that Ian isn't a penny pincher and divulges himself in the finer things in life that he never hesitates to post on his social media.

Though he is madly in love with money, Ian is a decent boss. He never forces anyone to work overtime, refrains from using his position to boss people around unnecessarily, is not a tyrant, and ensures that we have the best chefs to prepare meals for us in the dining hall.

He also includes other amenities and luxuries within his company that most Firms don't have, not to mention the fact that there's a therapist on the sixth in case you happen to unfortunately suffer from mental health issues. There is not much to complain about, if at all, and if you happen to find something to create a ruckus about then I believe that it's due to you being nit picky.

Tossing the magazine onto the coffee table, Ian looks at me with his fingers folded and his posture facing my direction. I rummage through the second folder as I review the Ramond Vs Marshall case but notice Ian's stare begin to burn my forehead and visibly release a sigh.

Here we go.

"Rhys, you can forget about rifling through those cases because I know the exact case for you," Ian announces and I look up at him to see the pleasant, but ass kissing, smile on his face and frown immediately.

"So the case that you speak of isn't apart of any of the six folders on my desk?" I quirk an eyebrow as my tone depicts how uninterested I am as my right hand taps the pen in my hand against my mahogany desk continuously.

"No—"

"Then I'm not interested, you know not to present cases to me verbally without the documents that go along with it," came my clipped reply and I return my attention back to the case on my desk.

"Come on," Ian drags the 'on' and I can hear him stand up as he approaches me with his hands spread apart, his palms facing upwards. I look up and give him a blank stare, but he gives me that smile of his with his teeth that are tinted yellow because he spends hours at a time outside smoking a whole pack of Marlboro cigarettes. "This case is right up your alley, the amount of publicit—"

"I don't care about publicity," I state dryly.

He licks his lips and runs a hand threw his orange locks of hair. He shifts on his feet as he opens his mouth to say, "okay, then imagine the payout that—"

"Money is not a priority to me," I blink and watch as he walks closer to my desk and places both of his hands onto the documents that I've been reading.

I tilt my head to get a good look at him. He has striking green eyes with specks of grey, a combination I've never seen before but I know that it leaves him fully capable of pulling women as he pleases. He possesses a full grown beard that wraps around his jawline, a mustache blooming beneath his nostrils.

An expensive suit shapes his body allowing for a firm and flattering fit that makes him presentable and possibly the clear definition of 'clean cut.' I don't believe that I have ever seen him without a suit but I'm aware that reason for that lies within his need to appear supreme and radiate 'boss,' energy despite how he doesn't radiate that energy whenever he converses and socializes among employees.