This is it.
I step out, and there is a single desk sitting in the lobby. No one is sitting at it, but a woman rounds the corner, looking down at some papers when she sees me. She’s probably around my age, with bright-red hair and bright-red lips. She has fantasticboobs, accentuated by the very low-cut shirt she’s wearing that’s tucked into the very tight skirt she’s wearing.
“Good morning!” she says in a sing-song voice. I smile and put on my best poker face.
“Good morning,” I say. “I’m here for an interview.”
“Oh, great!” she says, walking behind the desk, and I realize she has a bit of a Southern accent. I think of the criteria.
Not from the area.
Young.
Hot.
She checks a lot of Cato’s disgusting boxes.
She picks up a phone and dials an extension, mumbles a few things into the phone, then hangs it up.
“Right this way,” she says, leading me down the hallway. We pass some cubicles and a few offices, and I notice that the suite is oddly empty. I swallow. This is weird.
She knocks on a door, and we wait for a beat before a sultry voice calls out.
“Come in,” he says, and she opens the door, showing me inside.
And then I see him for the first time. Cato Everett. The third richest man on the planet. Dangerous. A predator. But in this moment, the first thing I notice is how striking he is. Julian looks so much like him, which I know he resents. But so does Brooks. Despite having more of his mom’s looks, he definitely has some of Cato’s features. Like his thick, dark eyebrows, the shape of his eyes, his tan skin.
Overwhelming, oozing confidence.
I swallow and enter the room behind her as I feel his gaze on me, looking me up and down, already sizing me up. Out of the corner of my eye, I see another man sitting in a chair across from Cato’s desk.
As we approach, Cato stands, and I remember my mission.
I slap a smile on my face. I suck in my stomach and push my boobs out.
I put on my friendly, happy-go-lucky look.
I remember how I felt when I first put this outfit on yesterday.
I remember how badass I felt this morning when Brooks told me he knew I could do it.
And now, I know I can do it too.
“Hi, Mr. Everett,” I say, sticking out a hand. “It is an absolute honor to meet you.”
Play it cool, Wren,I remind myself. It has to be the perfect balance of flattery and professionalism.
“Wren, is it?” he asks, taking my hand in his. We hold eye contact for a moment as I nod.
“Yes,” I say. “I was so excited to hear back from your office. This sounds like such an amazing opportunity.”
I see a glance exchanged between him and the other man. Then he turns back to me.
“Your resume checked quite a few boxes,” he says. “This is Larry, my assistant director of human resources. But he’s more like my right-hand man.”
I turn to Larry and smile, holding out a hand for him.
There’s something different about the way he looks at me than the way Cato looks at me. He’s sloppier about his stares. He lets his eyes linger on my hips and boobs longer than Cato does. He has no qualms with taking me all in. Cato clears his throat, though, and Larry snaps to attention as he shakes my hand.
