Page 28 of Deceived Wrath

I glance up from the stack of resumes to find a petite blonde woman hovering in the doorway.

She looks young, but not as naïve as the other candidates.

I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's her eyes. There is something in them that makes me think she hasn't spent her life wrapped in bubble wrap.

"Take a seat."

I watch Fiona cross over to the desk, trying not to notice the way her hips sway with every step. But it's hard not to, consideringthe tight-fitting skirt and six-inch heels she's wearing that make her legs look like they go on forever.

Fuck.

Now I'm thinking about her legs.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to read through her resume in front of me as she takes a seat.

"Tell me about your internship during college."

Fiona gracefully crosses one knee over the other and folds her hands neatly in her lap as she takes a second to answer rather than immediately jumping into some monologue about how she was destined to become a personal assistant.

"It was at a boutique investment firm. My main responsibility was client management."

"And how do you think that would apply to this role?"

"I was taught how to anticipate client needs rather than just react," she answers without hesitation.

That gets my attention, as it's exactly the sort of quality I need in an assistant.

I don't have time to hold someone's hand or be followed around while they act like a lost puppy. I want a job done before I even realize I need it done, someone who thinks two steps ahead. But I also want someone I can trust when it comes to my personal life.

I focus on Fiona for a moment, trying to picture if she could be that person. But for some reason, I get distracted by the way the sunlight streaming through the glass catches the golden strands of her hair.

"And I'm not just talking about making sure a coffee was on the partner's desk, waiting for them," she adds with a smile that lights up her whole face.

She seems eager to please, which is not necessarily a good thing.

"Were there ever situations where confidentiality was critical?"

"Yes. I understand the importance of discretion. I never discussed client information outside of work, and I always ensured sensitive documents were secure."

I narrow my eyes.

I can't quite work out if her directness is confidence or arrogance, or maybe a mix of both.

Leaning back in my chair, I fold my arms over my chest.

My instincts tell me to push harder, to test for any hint of weakness, so I decide to step it up a notch.

"What would you do in this hypothetical situation?"

Fiona instantly straightens.

"A client calls late at night, letting you know that something urgent has come up. You have to decide whether to handle it immediately or wait until morning. What do you do?"

She doesn't even blink.

"I'll handle it immediately if it can't wait. The client's concerns come first."

"What if it's three in the morning, and you're at a club?"