“I’ve been on my own for a while, Mr. Vanetti.” I shrugged to make light of his comment. “I’m not married, or in a committed relationship at the moment. Besides the occasional family get-togethers, my time is my own.”
"I see.” His eyes flared with interest.
Had that been his way of asking about my love life?
Silence stretched between us. I should say something professional. Redirect to business.
Instead, I found myself noticing the way the afternoon light hit his desk. How his hands rested on the folder—strong hands, capable hands. How his tie was slightly loosened, like he'd been tugging at it.
What would it be like if this were real? If I'd met him somewhere normal—a coffee shop, a gallery, anywhere that didn't involve lies and potential murder?
The thought was dangerous. Distracting. Even a little exciting.
Exactly what I couldn't afford.
"Miss Russell—"
"Julia," I interrupted. "If I'm going to work for you, you should call me Julia."
"Julia." The way he said my name did things to my composure. "I'll be honest. You're one of two final candidates."
My stomach dropped. "Two?"
"You and Lori Johnson."
Liar. I could see it in his eyes. There was no competition. He'd already decided.
The question was whether he'd decided to hire me or dismiss me.
"I'm the better choice," I said.
"Confident."
"Honest." I leaned forward slightly. "You need someone detail-oriented, discreet, capable of handling sensitive information without flinching. Someone who can read a room, anticipate needs, stay calm under pressure." I held his gaze. "That's me."
"And humble."
"Humility doesn't get you hired."
His mouth curved. "No. I suppose it doesn't."
He stood. I stood too.
"I'll need to run a few more background checks. Standard procedure for this level of access."
"Of course."
"Including a polygraph."
My blood went cold. "A polygraph?"
"Standard for executive positions. You're not refusing, are you?"
Yes. I'm absolutely refusing because I'll fail spectacularly.
"No." I narrowed my eyes. "When?"
"I'll let you know."
