Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
He wears nothing particularly flashy, yet he emanates power. From the set of his chiseled jaw to the perfect planes of his face, every part of this man screams mega-multi-bajillionaire.
The quiet of the room smothers me.
Taking a tentative step closer, hating the loudness of my heels against his tiled floor, I attempt to continue the role play. “What can I get you to drink?” It comes out squeaky—timid—and I close my eyes for just a second to gain some composure.
“Unbutton your shirt,” is his answer.
Although my heart is racing, I give him a playful grin. “My breasts aren’t on the drink menu.”
That response agitates him, and he tugs at his tie. “You’re too chaste. The customers expect more.”
“I’m not chaste.” To affirm my lie, I reach up to release three buttons on my shirt, exposing the swell of my cleavage. “There’s a lot to be said for mystery. It’s like setting an unwrapped present under the tree when everything is hanging out.”
“Very true,” he murmurs before his eyes drop to my breasts, traveling across the slopes. “Why do you want to work here?” Devereaux asks, his husky voice warming my ears as he stalks around me and takes a seat behind his desk.
Before my interview, I studied my fake backstory Katherine provided relentlessly. I know it inside and out. But right now, as I’m trying to survive the weight of Devereaux’s stare, everything I’ve memorized and rehearsed evaporates into thin air.
Katherine told me to pretend I have a boyfriend, so if anyone asks me to do things that go too far, I can use him as an excuse. I have his back story memorized too, but at this moment, I can’t even tell you his darn name.
Since this interview went off the rails and he’s forgoing proper introductions, I take the seat across from his desk and cross my legs, so I don’t jump out one of the tall windows fawning over the city lights. Thankfully, the words Adler had me rehearse fall from my lips with ease. “I’m beyond broke.” Kind of not a lie.
Rather than ask a follow up question, he clicks his tongue and picks up his phone. While he scrolls through it, I take a moment to scan his office, looking for clues about the suspect who lacks interview skills. It’s sleek and clutter-free, designed to make a person feel comfortable but also let them know he’s a sophisticated man with no time for distractions. There’s a pool table near the back, and a punching bag hanging next to an en suite bathroom. This place is bigger than my house. The dark woods and sumptuous burgundies give off a masculine vibe, but it’s the built-in bookshelves on my right that offer a hint to a softer side.
Blown-glass objects decorate the shelves instead of books. The numerous pieces are quite interesting. A giant orange fish with blown bubbles percolating through his body. A large spruce with a tiny yellow flower sprouting from its side. The largest piece is a graceful white swan. I study the delicate figurine until Devereaux clears his throat and sets his phone down.
“Why should I hire you?”
Before he can say anything more, I launch into my made-up life like I’m reciting a monologue at the county theater. “I was born and raised a few towns over. In Hanover. Have you ever been there? Well, anyway, my boyfriend and I moved to Saint Pierce recently. He suggested I serve drinks here. Figured you guys were looking for help.”
Devereaux’s eyes watch me with an emotion I can’t quite decipher. Disgust? Annoyance? Anger?
“Boyfriend?”
“Yes, Tanner Holmes. We’ve been dating for over six months.”
Devereaux leans back in his leather chair, bringing his hands together in a slow, sarcastic clap. His eyes burn into mine as he mocks me. “Well, congratulations. I’m so proud of you. You found yourself a little dick to play with.”
My chin jerks back at his intentional rudeness. Little? I feel my face warm in irritation but resist blowing this interview by defending my fake boyfriend, even though I wish I could snap at him and tell him Tanner’s a great guy. Instead, I chew the inside of my lip and challenge his encompassing stare with my own.
He leans forward, resting his arms on his desk, his palms lying flat. “I have one rule for my girls.”
“What’s that?” I ask hesitantly.
“No boyfriends.”
I know I should agree and just say, Yes, sir. The Captain, hell, the whole damn precinct, is counting on me to land this job so I can gather the needed intel on Huxley to bring him down, but his arrogance gets under my skin.
“You can’t tell me who I can date,” I snap, wanting to stand up for my fake boyfriend and our fictitious relationship.
He laughs, the rich sound melting my bones like butter. “Can’t I?” he counters.