Mis-Judge By His Secretary

6

Eleanor

Coming from my parents’ house to work every day wasn’t an option. It was two hours away, and as much as I loved them, moving back home at twenty- seven felt like waving a white flag of defeat.

Lara’s place wasn’t an option either… not with her fiancé suddenly deciding that now was the perfect time to return from London. Because, obviously, my best friend needed a full house when I was on the verge of being homeless.

I glanced at the time on my phone. One hour. That was how long I had before Orson kicked me out on the street.

So much for thinking my new job would magically solve all my problems.

I looked around my apartment, where my life had been reduced to cardboard boxes. The only thing I had accomplished today was packing, and even that felt like a hollow victory. I didn’t have a car to load up and drive myself to some cheap motel. I didn’t even have a motel to drive to.

The knock on the door wasn’t polite. It was loud, angry, and persistent.

“Eleanor, I know you’re in there!”

Orson.

Of course, it was Orson.

“What the hell is his problem?” I muttered to myself. I still had an hour. He couldn’t throw me out yet.

But Orson didn’t believe in technicalities like “deadlines” or “basic decency.” He was more of a “my rules, my way” kind of guy.

Sighing, I got up from the couch and trudged to the door. I opened it a crack, peeking out to see him standing there, red-faced and fuming.

“You’re still here?” he snapped, pushing the door open wider before I could respond.

“I still have an hour,” I said firmly, planting myself in his path.

Orson crossed his arms, his beady eyes narrowing. “Yeah? Well, you’ve had months to figure this out, Eleanor. Months. I don’t care what kind of sob story you’re working with now. I want you out.”

“I am leaving,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m packing up now. You’ll have your apartment back by the time you said.”

He snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Not fast enough.”

Before I could argue, he pushed past me, heading straight for the stack of boxes by the couch.

“Wait… what are you doing?” I demanded, following him.

“Helping you move,” he said, grabbing one of the heavier boxes like it was nothing. “If you’re not gone soon, I’ll start putting your stuff on the curb outside myself.”

“You can’t do that!” I said, grabbing the other end of the box to stop him.

“Oh yeah? Watch me.”

I pulled. He pulled harder.

“Let go!” I said, my feet sliding on the floor as I tried to tug the box away from him.

“No! You’re done, Eleanor!” he shouted, yanking it toward the door.

The box wobbled precariously between us, and before I could react, my grip slipped, and I went tumbling backward, landing on the floor with a thud.

Pain shot through my tailbone, and I groaned, clutching my lower back.

“You’re insane, you know that?” I snapped up at him, but Orson didn’t even look at me. He just kept dragging the box toward the door like a deranged troll on a mission.

And that’s when I heard the voice.

“I should beat the s**t out of you for what you just did, you know.”

The deep, gravelly tone sent a chill down my spine… not because it was scary, but because it was unmistakable.

I looked up, and there he was.

Nathan West. My boss.

Standing in my doorway.

He wasn’t wearing a suit, which somehow made him look even more intimidating. His broad shoulders were encased in his white shirt, his dark pants fit like they had been tailored for him, and the scowl on his face? Absolutely lethal.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Nathan demanded, his eyes darting from me on the floor to Orson still holding my box.

Orson froze, his bravado shrinking instantly under Nathan’s glare. “Who the hell are you?” he snapped, but his voice had lost some of its edge.

Nathan stepped inside, his presence filling the tiny space. “I’m the guy who’s about five seconds away from teaching you some basic manners.”

“Look, buddy, this isn’t your business,” Orson said, trying to puff himself up. “She owes me rent, and I’m just…”

“Put the box down,” Nathan said, his voice low and calm but somehow more dangerous than shouting.

Orson hesitated, his eyes darting between Nathan and me.

“I said, put. The. Box. Down.”

Orson dropped it with a loud thud, muttering under his breath as he stepped back.

Nathan ignored him and turned to me, his expression softening slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Uh… yeah,” I said, still too stunned to process what was happening.

He extended a hand, and I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. I stood there, staring at Nathan like he had just descended from the heavens.

“What are you doing here?” I finally asked, my voice shaky.

Nathan crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “You said you would figure it out. I decided to make sure you did.” He said, before looking away from me.

Nathan’s eyes locked onto Orson’s, and his entire stance shifted… broad shoulders squared, jaw tight, every inch of him radiating authority.

“Look man, I’m just trying to get her out on time for my new tenant.” He said.

“You’ve made your point,” Nathan said, his voice dangerously calm. “Now, you’re going to give her the hour you promised, and then you’re going to leave her alone.”

Orson scoffed, crossing his arms. “Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it? You think you’re her knight in shining armor or something? If you’re so eager to play the hero, why don’t you just pay what she owes me and get out of my hair?”

Nathan didn’t even blink. “I’m a federal judge, not a charity,” he said coolly, taking a step closer to Orson. “And let me educate you on why that’s not happening. Under landlord-tenant law, your actions… threatening to throw her out before the notice period has expired, attempting to forcibly remove her property… constitute illegal eviction practices. That alone could land you in court. Add harassment to the list, and you’re looking at a lawsuit that’ll cost you more than a few months’ rent.”

Orson’s face turned a dull shade of red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Nathan continued, his tone cutting. “You’re going to leave now. You’ll give her the hour you agreed to, and then she’ll leave on her own terms. If I hear about so much as a misplaced word after this, I’ll personally make sure you regret it.”

Orson’s bravado crumbled under Nathan’s words. He took a step back, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “fine” before stomping out of the apartment.

The door slammed shut behind him, and the room fell silent.

I stood there, staring at Nathan, my heart pounding. “How… how did you know all that off the top of your head?”

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “I’m a judge, Ms. Rhodes. Knowing the law is kind of my job.”

I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “Well, remind me never to get on your bad side.”

His expression softened slightly, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of concern in his dark eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, though my voice wavered a little. “Thank you. For… all of that.”

He nodded, then glanced around the small apartment, his gaze landing on the stack of boxes near the couch.

“You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” he asked, his voice quiet but direct.

I hesitated, heat rising in my cheeks. “I… I was going to figure something out. Maybe a motel for now. I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head, as if that answer wasn’t acceptable. “No, you won’t. Motels aren’t safe, and you shouldn’t be spending money on one when you’re already stretched thin.”

I blinked up at him, unsure where this was going. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’ll stay with me.” He said like it was nothing.

My jaw dropped. “What?”

“You’ll stay with me,” he repeated, like it was the most obvious solution in the world. “I have the space, and it’ll be temporary until you get back on your feet.”

“Nathan…” I stopped, realizing I had just called him by his first name. “Judge West, I can’t do that.” I said.

“Why not?” he asked, his tone still calm, like we were discussing a work meeting and not the possibility of me living in his house.

“Because it’s… it’s inappropriate! You’re my boss.”

“And as your boss, I’m telling you it’s a practical solution.”

I shook my head, still reeling. “But what would people think? What if…”

“Ms. Rhodes,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “You don’t have time to argue. Pack whatever you need for tonight, and I’ll have someone send for the rest later.”

I opened my mouth to protest again, but he held up a hand.

“Trust me, this is the simplest option. Now, do you want to waste the hour we have left arguing with me, or do you want to make sure you don’t end up on the street tonight?”

He had a point, damn him.

“Fine,” I muttered, grabbing one of the boxes.

“Good,” he said, his lips twitching like he was suppressing a smile. “Now let’s get out of here before your charming landlord comes back.”