Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
He leaned back in his leather chair and rested one arm on the desk as he stared at me. “No. I didn’t know you were the one I was interviewing until I looked at the resume on my desk this morning and saw your name.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded slowly.
“Does that change anything though?”
Was he serious? I felt my eyes widen. “Uh, yeah, it does. I mean, isn’t it like some kind of complication?”
He knitted his brow. “Why would it be?”
I felt like I was in some kind of alternate dimension. He didn’t think this would complicate things?
“You’re qualified for the job. That’s why you got the interview. Nothing has changed.”
“Um... I mean, I woke up in your bed this morning. We went on a date last night.” I swallowed roughly. “We had sex.”
The corner of his mouth twisted, as if he were trying to suppress his amusement. “We had sex?”
I felt my brows knit when he phrased that as a question. He stared me in the eyes, and I felt on display right now for how intently he watched me.
“We didn’t have sex, Olive.”
I felt this weight lift off my shoulders, and I actually sagged against the chair. “We didn’t have sex?”
He shook his head slowly, that little smirk now in place.
“Oh, thank God,” I mumbled under my breath.
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s something a man wants to hear.” His smirk grew. “You don’t have to look so relieved. Might bruise my ego.” And then he winked. He fucking winked at me, and I felt everything in me pool in the center of my body like a warm puddle.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just assumed, because I was all but naked and in your bed.” Dammit, this was getting bad. “I—I just meant, thank God, because I couldn’t remember what happened, and if I did have sex with you… well, I’d want to remember.” Oh my Lord. I actually said those words. My face was on fire, because I was a rambling mess.
And what made this ten times worse was the fact that he wasn’t saying anything, just staring at me, smiling like he was amused I was losing my damn mind and making a fool of myself.
He stayed silent for long moments and then cleared his throat and shifted on his chair. “How about we get back to business?” And just like that, Pope was professional, a man about to interview me as if I were nothing more than someone who’d come in off the street.
A part of me liked that, because it kind of got rid of the awkwardness of the situation, got back to the fact that I was just a would-be employee. But another part—a stronger part—didn’t like it.
I wanted him to see me as more than just a resume. And those thoughts were dangerous. They weren’t reality, because nothing could happen between us. I didn’t need a relationship complicating my life, especially not with a man who I was trying to get a job from.
“Yeah, okay,” I said and straightened, trying to look the professional I was attempting to be right now and not the girl who’d woken up in his bed.
For the next ten minutes, Pope went over my resume, asking questions, as if this were a PowerPoint presentation and he wanted all the details right down to how many hours I worked a week.
And then came the part I dreaded, the part that would most likely end this interview and guarantee I would leave and not get a call back. And that stung more than anything else, because for some inexplicable reason, I didn’t want Pope to think less of me. It didn’t matter if me being fired had been a load of shit. It was the perception that he’d see me as some kind of failure, that I wasn’t smart or successful, or even knew what the hell I was doing that had this sour feeling in my gut.
“Listen,” I said before he could bring up my last employment. “I’m just going to come out and say this, because I’ve lost two previous job opportunities over this, and if that’s how this interview goes, I’d rather get it done and over with.” I swallowed, my throat so rough, so dry and tight. “I just want it out in the open.” He didn’t speak or move, or hell, even show any expression. I wondered if he already knew. Surely he had to?
And then he tipped his head in my direction for me to continue.
“My last employment with Brookwood Financial Holdings was terminated, because my employer didn’t like the fact that I hadn’t rescheduled an appointment. Although it was my fault, because that was my job, I do have to say it was extreme.” There, I’d said it. I wasn’t about to tell him how Felix Brookwood was, how he was stern and strict and how he’d gone through more secretaries than was normal.