Page 100 of Saved By the CEO

Stop.

“How did the interview go?”

I scream loudly in my head. I think about dead squirrels and porn. He doesn’t react to any of it.

“I think I blew it, honestly.”

His brow furrows. “Why do you think that?”

“I rambled and made stupid jokes.”

“You did that during your interview with me.”

“I did?”

“You talked very fast.” He glances down at the folder in his hand. “And, for reasons I still don’t fully understand, did an impression of Yoda.”

I immediately bury my face in my hands, mortified. “Oh my god.”

“I still hired you.”

I peek out from between my fingers. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You were competent, and I didn’t see having a personality as an issue.”

I narrow my eyes. “You once told me that I talk too much, so obviously it was a problem.”

He looks down at the plans. His thumb drags once over the edge of the folder, bending the corner slightly before he seems to notice and stops. Then he looks up at me again.

“Yeah, it was distracting.” His grip tightens around the folder. “Thank you for the plans.” The words are clipped. “You should go home.”

I nod. “Right. Good night.”

He doesn’t answer until he’s halfway back to his office.

“Good night, Carly.”

The next daypasses under the shadow of a rejection that hasn’t arrived yet. I work. I answer questions, reschedule meetings, find documents, make calls, and do all the small, invisible things that keep the day from collapsing in on itself.

And beneath it all, the rejection waits.

Any minute now, someone will thank me for my time and say they’ve decided to move forward with another candidate—and I’ll have to be normal about it.

By the time I get home, my feet hurt, my eyes feel dry, and I have spent the entire day bracing for a door to slam shut. I kick off my shoes and walk into the kitchen, where I find Annie sitting at the counter, eating pasta straight from a pot.

She looks up. “Anything?”

“No.”

Her face falls a little. “Oh.”

“It’s fine.” I open the fridge and stare inside. “They probably need time to write the email. You know, find ways to sugarcoat it.”

“Or they’re still deciding.”

I grab a thing of yogurt, then close the fridge. As I look for a spoon in one of our very unorganized drawers, my phone starts ringing on the counter. I freeze.

Annie leans over to look at the screen. “It’s Marissa Kane.”