Page 130 of His Good Girl

“No, you won’t,” Benjamin said.

She looked at him and he looked right back.

After a second, she sighed. “No. I won’t.”

I looked between them, these two people who had spent years telling me the truth in opposite dialects. Benjamin with his theatrical doom and unwavering loyalty. Dana with her brutal practicality and reluctant care. Neither of them approved, not fully anyway. Maybe not even mostly. But they were still standing here. By my side.

“Let me be clear,” Benjamin continued. “Acceptance is not the same as endorsement. If you hurt her, Dana will kill you first, and I will handle disposal with tasteful efficiency.”

“I never agreed to that order,” Dana objected in what would have been an amusing retort if I didn’t halfway believe they were arguing something entirely within the realm of possibility.

“You are better at initial violence. I am better at logistics.”

“Fair.”

“Enough,” I barked, though the corner of my mouth almost moved.

Benjamin pointed at me with the tablet. “And if you hurt the company, I will not kill you; I will do something worse.”

“Which is?”

“I will let Tom lead the crisis response.”

Dana winced. “Jesus, Ben.”

“I know. I frightened myself.”

The absurdity of it cut through the anger for half a second, and I exhaled.

Then Benjamin, because he was Benjamin and incapable of leaving even one moment uncontaminated by his stark sense of humor, said, “I believe the vulgar phrase is bros before hoes.”

Dana closed her eyes. “Mercer…”

“I apologize to all women, Ms. Hale, and my mother,” he offered. “I am using the phrase only as a cultural shorthand for loyalty in the face of romantically induced litigation.”

“Never say it again,” I ordered.

“Gladly. It tasted like a fraternity basement.” He straightened his tie. “But the point stands. Against my better judgment, and possibly against the advice of every insurance carrier in North America, I am with you.”

Dana set the file on his desk. “So am I. For now.”

“For now,” I repeated.

Dana stared at me for a long moment. “For now, she earns her place. You stop making decisions with your dick. We document reporting lines, move her formal evaluations under me, and keep her out of anything that looks like favoritism.”

“She stays in my office,” I added.

Dana’s eyebrows rose.

Benjamin made a small choking sound.

“For Hartwell,” I clarified. “Temporarily. She’s useful on the summaries, and I want her where I can make use of her quickly.” I experienced immediate regret for my choice of words.

Benjamin opened his mouth. I looked at him and he closed it.

Dana was less merciful. “That sentence did not help you.”

“I know.”