Chapter 4
Caydence
I’m really not sure what I’m getting myself into with this interview. It’s like God knew I needed a nighttime job and poof, there it was. I’m actually shocked I even got an interview. I’m sure more than one person is looking to work a few hours at night each day.
I check my outfit as I walk up to the front doors. The automatic doors open, and I walk inside. At the front desk, I see a security guard who looks up when he hears me approaching.
“Hi. I have an interview,” I tell him. He smiles at me and nods his head.
“With Mr. Knight. Tenth floor. His office is left of the elevators,” he instructs me.
“Thank you.” I head for the elevator and climb on, pressing ten. I check my outfit once more when it dings, letting me know that we made it to the floor.
I step out and walk to the left just like I was told. There are lights on on this floor, but not many.
I approach the office and reach up, knocking on the door.
“Come in,” I hear a voice. I shove open the door and enter just to stop dead in my tracks.
Sitting at the desk is Devon Knight. His shaggy blond hair is tousled, and I lose my breath when he looks up with those piercing blue eyes. I’ve seen him around campus more than once. His father owns the university, and he is the campus God.He’s also a football player, which makes him even more popular than he already was.
I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been this close to him before. I knew the Knight’s owned a lot of shit around town, but it never dawned on me that this was theirs as well.
“You’re Caydence?” he asks, sending a chill down my spine just hearing him say my name.
“Umm, yes. That’s me.”
“Come in and sit down,” he says, motioning to the chair in front of his desk. I clear my throat and walk over, taking a seat while he watches me. It’s almost unnerving the way his eyes seem to burn right through me.
“Thank you.”
“So you applied for the job. Basically, all you would need to do is answer the phone in the off chance that it rings, do a little filing here and there, and do you have a book?” he asks.
“A book?”
“Yeah, a book. That you like to read?” he asks. What kind of interview is this? I thought he would ask me questions about my work history, not about a book.
“I have a lot of books. I love to read.”
“Good. Very good. Bring a good book with you every night,” he advises, and I’m confused.
“Shouldn’t I be working?”
“When you’re not doing anything, it can get kind of boring. Reading a book will help pass the time,” he says.
“Okay. I can do that. It’s just, I’ve never really done any secretarial work before,” I admit to him. He smiles, and holy shit, that dark smile is deadly.
“That’s fine. It’s pretty simple. Answer the phone if it rings, which it probably won’t. I’ll show you how to file and where. And that’s basically it.”
“I don’t mean this to sound rude, but isn’t that stuff you can do yourself?” Now he laughs, and holy shit does the sound hit me in the core.
“Yeah, I could, but I don’t want to. Are you not interested in the job?” he asks.
“I am. I was just asking.”
“What hours do you want?”
“Excuse me? I thought you decided the hours,” I tell him. Again, he smiles.
