I drop my head into my hands. “Is using plastic surgery to make you look uglier a thing?” I mumble through my fingers.
Ella laughs, plopping herself down on my desk. “No, Nova. It’s not a thing.”
“It should be.”
She doesn’t entertain my little comment. “Can I get you anything? Are you ready for your trial run with Mr. Mills?”
I peel my face from my hands and look at her. “No, I don’t need anything, and I’m overprepared for it.”
Little do I know, I’m not even remotely prepared for Owen Mills.
Chapter 3
“Everyone’s excited to meet you, Miss Riley,” a petite woman with dark hair and dark skin blurts out as she escorts me to Mr. Mills' primary office. It is on the top floor of a thirty-story skyscraper. It’s a private room set on the far side, but the rest of the building is open and welcoming. The employees chat and work with an easy air, smiling and laughing. There’s a quaint kitchen off to the side, hosting a variety of them, who are chatting by the coffee machine. Most people aren’t at their desks yet, happily catching up on their weekend adventures.
It’s an atmosphere I could get used to if I weren’t a field agent constantly changing assignments, locations, and identities.
“Really?” I ask in response to the woman’s statement, genuinely surprised.
“Oh, yes. Everyone was very impressed with your background and skill set. In fact, I think you’re a bit overqualified.”
When researching the company, it was challenging to determine how far to extend my training, education, and expertise. I admit I might have made myself look a little too good, especially on paper.
I laugh, trying to sound surprised by her comment even as my body tenses. “I realize I’m overqualified, but the position interests me.”
“I bet it does,” the woman chirps.
I almost roll my eyes, knowing what she’s implying about our looks. “I’m extremely interested in his mission statement for his charities. I believe in what he’s trying to do, Miss…?” I ask since we weren’t properly introduced earlier.
She waves her hand at me. “Call me Laura.” She stops in front of large, wooden, double doors. “Here we are. Good luck, Miss Riley.”
Laura disappears back across the office floor before I can say anything or thank her. Though it’s not part of my job description to become friends with the other employees, I’d still like not to alienate myself. So far, I’m not off to a great start.
Staring at the door before me, I can’t understand my nervousness. I’ve pretended to be other people for ten years now. Why does this time feel so different?
Knocking softly, I take a step back.
I expected Mr. Mills, but I didnotexpect a sweaty, half-dressed Mr. Mills to open the door.
Stumbling in my red heels, I catch myself right before crashing into him.
Mr. Mills smirks, and I quickly compose myself.
“Apologies. I didn’t realize I was intruding,” I say, my voice a little shaky.
“You didn’t. Come in.” He steps aside, that stupid hint of a dimple appearing.
He’s definitely used to flustered women.
Straightening, I walk past him, ignoring his muscled chest damp with sweat.
A moment later, I realize why: Half of his office is a gym. Dumbbells and a barbell are on the floor, along with kettlebells and medicine balls. There are even ropes and a pull-up bar, as well as other various types of gym equipment.
“Do you work out, Miss Riley?” he asks, seemingly aware of myattention.
I face him, finally composing myself. “Yes, sir. I do.”
He raises a brow but doesn’t ask anything else. Instead, he walks to a bench and grabs a clean, white T-shirt. He pulls it over his head and runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his eyes.
