“Email.”
“Calendar or bulleted?”
“Bulleted daily.”
“How do you want to be addressed?” she asks.
“Mr. Graves. Both day and night shifts.”
Except in the bedroom when I will be called Sir, Damien, or Daddy…
I stare at her. And she stares back. “I have worked in hotels before,” she tells me while sitting up straight in her pink button-down shirt that she has tucked into heather gray dress pants. Iwant to untuck them. I also want to tell her that I’d prefer my assistants don’t dress like Hillary Clinton, but that kind of feels like a dick thing to say. Not that I care. Instead, I just listen.
“I don’t mean front desk or waitstaff and certainly not cleaning staff. I mean I have worked high up in customer relations and event management. I am qualified for this job. If anything,” she laughs lightly. “If anything, I am overqualified for this job. I want this job because I am tired of waiting tables and answering phones and–”
“Annelise,” I cut her off.
“I prefer when people call me–”
“I already told you that you got the job,” I reiterate as I turn my pen in my hand, clicking it on my desk.
“On what premise?” she asks. “You haven’t even–”
I lean in, piercing her eyes with mine. “On the premise that this is my hotel and I need an all-inclusive assistant and I want to hire you.”
Annelise swallows and looks around the room with a nod. “Okay. Yeah. I got the job.”
“Yes,” I tell her. “So let’s go over the benefits,” I say as I get up from my chair, walking towards the door to close it.
“Benefits. Right. God, I have missed benefits. Do you know what it’s like to go from having full health coverage to state? It’s a nightmare. And don’t get me started on dental.”
“I’m not talking about healthcare,” I tell her as I walk over by the window, looking down over the city. “Though you will have coverage, don’t worry about that.”
“So…if it’s not healthcare…what kind of benefits are you talking about?” she asks.
Here we go. This is always the make-or-break part of the interview. Because women are either going to call me insane and sick (exact words from the past) or they’re going to sign the contract.
“Everything you mentioned before the coffee and the scheduling and predicting what I need in this hotel before I even need it. Those are obviously ideal characteristics of what I am looking for, but I also own The Opal Room, as I’m sure you know.”
“The Opal Room?” she echoes as her cheeks flush and my dick hardens in my slacks. “Isn’t that the ahh…the strip–”
“It’s a gentleman’s club, yes. There is dancing, a bar, and the Velvet Lounge,” I say as I walk over to her. I grab her swivel chair and turn her to face me as I lean against the front of my desk, forcing her to look up at me through her lashes. “Do you know anything about the Velvet Lounge?”
I watch her soft throat rise and fall as she swallows. “I know people go there…to have sex. Publicly.”
“Sex. Drinks. Just enjoying each other’s company really in a private, sexy environment,” I tell her.
“And you want…you need…an assistant to work there with you too?” she stutters.
“Not work. I want to be accompanied. You see, Annelise, I am looking for someone who can take care of all of my needs, not just the ones pertaining to the hotel. There will of course be a consent form with all the details. Nothing is ever forced. Anything we do or don’t do will be your choice. And we can go over that.”
She shakes her head, and I clench my jaw.
“No,” she says.
“No?” I ask.
“No. I…I’ve never heard of such a job. I mean…sex? The all-inclusive part…is…sex?” she asks.
