Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74643 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
"It not that I don't like it. It's just a little... foreboding. Probably as you intended for your political clients."
He smiles. Adam comes in with a tray of espresso and sits down next to me. "Coffee?"
"Yes, please."
"So, Ms. Donovan,” Chase begins, cutting to the, well, chase. “You studied at Harvard?" He peruses what I can only assume is my folder, complete with evidence of all I've done wrong and right.
"I did, sir," I say.
"I like it when you call me ‘sir’," Chase says tersely.
I clench my thighs together and wonder at his meaning. The way he said it seemed a little… out of place? I decide to keep talking.
"Well, um, I majored in Political Science, and I, uh, made the honor roll every semester. I’m passionate about politics, and I know I could be a good asset to this firm."
Cameron hasn't taken his eyes off me since I started talking, and I want to stare back, but I don't.
To my right is Adam, who's giving me a small espresso cup, which I sorely need. I have to keep my wits about me. I wasn't expecting to get thrown into a den of hungry wolves.
I’m beginning to question what they’re all hungry for.
Their eyes feast on my streamlined body. They keep staring unabashedly at my full breasts that are peeking out over my top. I fear my bra is noticeable, too.
"So," I continue. "I know about your firm. I've researched you guys, and I really admire all you've done in the political hemisphere."
And then I say my truth.
I can't help it. When am I going to be in an office again with all three of them?
I have to say what I know. Integrity, remember?
"I know your firm, but I do have some questions about your motives for representation. According to my research, you only take on clients who can pay handsomely, and I wonder about the underprivileged candidates that have all the right intentions? Do you represent them as well?"
Cameron sucks in his breath amusedly, and Chase seems excited. He's suddenly more involved in the conversation.
But it's Adam who says, "Why, Nicole, how forward of you."
Sorry, not sorry.
"We actually deal with a variety of clientele—from those in the grassroots movement to those at the top of the pyramid. Our company has standards, Ms. Ryder, and I think you'll find our ethics committee has it all laid out."
Adam's tone is commanding, and I like it.
"I just wanted to be sure that I'm working in the right place. My own standards are high, Mr. Shea, and I think you'll find that to be an asset, as well.
“I know you have vetted me but I am equally vetting you. I want to work for people who care about a greater cause...our country."
They all laugh, as if I'm appealing when I'm trying to be cutthroat.
"You’re vetting us?" Adam jibes.
"I think you'll find, gentlemen, that I could work anywhere I want. I could go have an interview with your competitor, and then I'll be your enemy. You'll want me on your side, because Ryder is a name this town will not soon forget."
They seem to take my criticism in stride, and soon Adam says, "You seem to have an agenda as much as we do, Ms. Donovan."
"Indeed, I do."
"Then I think this may be the perfect relationship... for all of us. You see we need someone like you; a spitfire," Chase says.
Does that mean I got the job?
It’s silent as I wait for more from them. You could cut the tension with a knife.
I'm dying to get this job—and to get underneath each of these men. My vibrator and I are going to have a happy time tonight. I imagine that's as close as I'll come to being with any of them: in my dreams.
"You'll hear from us." Chase says.
And that's it. In an instant, it's over. I'm gone as quickly as I went in.
I don't know if they loved me or hated me.
But for the time being, I just have to get out of this building and get some air. I practically run to the elevator. Tiffany says something but I'm already on my way down.
I feel like there's a tightness in my chest, my stomach. I was not prepared for that. I had no idea they'd be so...dominant? Hot? Fuckable?
I'm in trouble. Whether I get this job or not, I'm going to be thinking about them all the time. That in itself is a problem.
Once outside, I go to the side of the building to catch some air. I lean against the concrete and analyze what just happened in my mind.
Was I good enough? Did I say too much?
I just hope I played my cards right, because despite all my bravado inside there, I know that it may be the only hand I'm dealt for a while.