Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males (57 page)

After fielding twenty or thirty
rapid-fire questions about her previous work experience, Nicole had waited for
Remi to move on to some other topic.
 
But the woman didn’t do any such thing.
 
She simply smiled briskly, stood up and
left the room.
 

Next, the creative director entered.
 
His name was Edward Lane and he was
stocky, grinning, with a thin red beard.
 
He had a phone at his side that constantly buzzed as he studiously
ignored it. Nicole tried to talk without being distracted by the incessant
buzzing sound.

Edward was also friendly, although his
blue eyes were watchful and perceptive.
 
At one point he asked her how she handled conflict, and she said that
she typically avoided it.
 

“You won’t be able to avoid it here,” he
said softly.
 
His eyes watched her
intently.

She took a breath.
 
“I look forward to learning, and if
conflict is part of that, I welcome the challenge.”

“You may find yourself under a great deal
of mental and emotional pressure.
 
The strain can be enormous.
 
Working for Red is never easy.”

She swallowed.
 
“You mean Mr. Jameson?”

He nodded.
 
“He’s also very egalitarian and likes to
meet everyone.
 
That’s why he
interviews all prospective employees.”

Nicole gulped audibly.
 
“He interviews
everyone
?”

“Yes, if we think the candidate is
appropriate Jameson International material.
 
In fact, there’s a good chance you’ll be
meeting him very soon,” he grinned.

Nicole licked her lips and tried to still
her shaking hands.
 
“It must be
overwhelming for someone with Mr. Jameson’s schedule and responsibilities to
meet with
everyone
.”

Edward laughed heartily.
 
“We’ve been trying to get him to stop
for years, but he won’t.
 
That’s how
seriously he takes his business.
 
And he expects that dedication and intensity from every one of his employees.”
 

“I find that refreshing,” she lied.
 
Actually she found it horrifying.
 
She wasn’t ready to come face to face
with the man she’d been studying from afar.

Edward sat back and looked at her
anew.
 
“Working for Red can be
particularly challenging for female employees.”

“It can?” She didn’t know exactly what
Edward meant, but her arms broke into gooseflesh anyway.
 
She thought back to the things she’d
seen on those online forums.
 
Women
who worked here probably fought tooth and nail to gain his approval and notice.

Edward tapped the table lightly with his
hand.
 
“In any case, you’re a great
candidate, and everyone speaks highly of you.
 
I’m going to recommend that Red meet
with you today.”

She felt woozy from all of this.
 
“You’re hiring me for the internship
position?”

Edward sighed.
 
“Pending Red’s approval.
 
But that’s why I’m trying to give you
fair warning.
 
This is a tough
business, but for someone like yourself it could be positively torturous.”

“Torturous?”

“Just…be prepared, Nicole.
 
If you can do this job, you’ll go very
far in this business.
 
But if you’re
a wilting flower—it won’t be a pretty sight.
 
I’ve seen the ones who crack and it can
get ugly.”

“I won’t crack,” she said, suddenly
sitting up straighter.
 
She didn’t
like his implication that she was a wilting flower.
 
Maybe she was fresh out of college, but
she’d never failed at anything in her life.
 
In high school, she’d been debate
champion three years running and when she was even younger she’d won chess
tournaments playing against kids twice her age.

Edward seemed to take stock of her and
find what he’d wanted to see.
 
He
smiled, stood up and shook her hand.
 
“I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of one another in the future,
Nicole.
 
Just hang tight for a
minute.”

And then he left her alone in the small
conference room.

She was suddenly aware of being
incredibly thirsty.
 
Checking her
phone, she realized she’d been in here for nearly an hour and a half now.
 
It hadn’t felt nearly that long, but
time had flown in the midst of her anxiety, and the endless questions and
trying to make a good impression.

Well, apparently she’d done it.
 
Now she just had to make a good
impression on
him
.

As if to confirm this, the blonde
receptionist opened the door to the conference room.
 
“Miss Masters?
 
Please come with me.”
 

She wanted to get a drink of water, but
the receptionist was already walking ahead of her, striding confidently,
elegantly.
 
Nicole was too
intimidated to ask for a cup of water.
 
Instead she followed her to a different set of elevators.
 

When the doors opened, the inside was
opulent.
 
It looked like an old
fashioned elevator from some nineteenth century mansion.
 
A man dressed in a dark blue uniform
smiled at them.
 
“Top floor?” he
asked with a delicate smile.

“Yes,” the blonde replied, barely looking
at him.

Nicole tried to smile and thank him.
 
He pressed the button for the
fifty-fifth floor and put his hands behind his back.
 
When the elevator pinged and stopped, he
held out his hand and tilted his head gently toward the hallway.

The blond receptionist didn’t leave the
elevator.
 
“Red’s expecting you,”
she said with an enigmatic look in her eye.

Nicole suddenly didn’t want to
leave.
 
Her feet felt rooted to the
floor.
 
But she forced herself to
move and then she was in the hallway and the elevator doors had closed behind
her.

The top floor felt like a different world
entirely from the rest of the building.
 
More like a penthouse apartment.
 
The walls were dark and there was lush red carpeting.
 
The hallway hooked abruptly to the left
and then she came to a set of heavy wooden doors.
 

Next to the doors was a rolling table
with a tray of food on top of it.
 
The food was just some fruit and a half eaten sandwich.
 
Somehow the sight of wilted lettuce
calmed her.
 
It was only food after
all.
 
This was just a hallway in a
building.
 
Yes, he was rich beyond
her wildest dreams, but he was also just a man who ate fruit and sandwiches
with old lettuce sometimes.
 
He
hadn’t even finished his meal.

She knocked on the wooden doors.

“Come in,” he said from the other
side.
 
His voice was slightly
muffled but distinctly his.
 
She’d watched
hours of interviews and footage of him on YouTube, after all.

She opened the doors and strode into his
office as confidently as possible.

When she entered, she was still shocked
by the enormity of the room.
 
It was
bigger than three of her apartments put together.
 
There was a full-length pool table on
one side, a fully stocked bar near that.
 
On the other side of the room was a set of leather furniture facing a television
screen that took up an entire wall.
 

Red was sitting at his desk.
 
It was a monstrosity; old, ornate, it
must have weighed a ton.
 
Behind him
was a floor to ceiling picture window that overlooked the entire city.
 
However, he’d lowered one of the
curtains, which blocked most of the light.
 
She could still see the city filtering through the semi-opaque material.

“Don’t be intimidated,” he said, standing
and walking around his desk.
 
He was
wearing one of his typical gray suits.
 
It was almost reflective.
 
His tie was purple and thin.
 
In person he was larger than she expected, and his magnetism was
stunning.
 
She found herself star
struck and nearly speechless.

“Hello,” she murmured.

He continued to close in on her.
 
His presence was so intense that she
didn’t know what to do.
 
Literally.
 
She was frozen in
place and he just kept moving until he was no more than six inches from
her.
 
He was like a movie star
stepping off the big screen and smiling at her.
 
His eyes were so confident, his manner
was so strong and powerful.
 
No boy
or man she’d ever met could come close to projecting his sex appeal or his
intelligence.

“I’m Red Jameson, founder and CEO of
Jameson International.”
 
He held out
his large hand to her.

She shook it.
 
“I’m aware of who you are,” she said,
sounding more abrupt than she’d intended.

He grinned and held her hand for longer
than was comfortable.
 
“What else
are you aware of?”

She pulled her hand back.
 
“I’ve read a lot about the company.”

“Have a seat, Miss—“

“Masters.”

“Miss Masters.
 
What a wonderful name.”
 
He smiled briefly.
 
“Would you like something to drink?”

“Please.”
 
She was grateful for him asking.
 
Her mouth tasted like chalk.

He moved toward the bar, which was so far
away it might as well been in a different state.
 
“What would you like?” he called back.

“Water’s fine.”
 

He grabbed a bottle and came back, his
movements graceful and sleek.

She sat down in the chair opposite his
desk and crossed her legs, suddenly aware of the way her skirt rode up her
thighs.
 
She felt, in his presence,
a vulnerability and nakedness that surprised her.
 

“Here,” he said, handing her a cold
bottle of Evian.
 
“Let me know if
you need anything else.
 
To use the
bathroom perhaps?”

“No, thank you.”
 
She opened the water and took a few long
gulps.

Red sat on the edge of his desk.
 
His leg was only a small distance to
hers, he could have practically touched her if he’d just extended his black
leather shoe a little bit.

“So,” he said, “I’ve heard very positive
things about you so far.”
 

“I’m glad.”

“What did you think of everyone you met?”

She pondered.
 
“Everyone seems really nice.”

His eyes focused on hers with an
intensity that was disconcerting.
 
She dropped her gaze to the floor.
 

Red didn’t say anything until she looked
at him again.
 
“Everyone seems
nice?” he repeated.
 
“That’s a bit
trite.
 
I don’t like canned answers,
Miss Masters.”

A small buzz of fear ran through her
stomach.
 
She’d made it this
far.
 
How humiliating would it be to
lose the job because Red Jameson himself hated her?

“Sorry,” she said.
 
“I’m very nervous.”

“No need to be.
 
We’re just talking.”

“You’re a pretty big deal,” she said,
gripping the bottle more tightly.

That made him laugh.
 
He threw his head back.
 
His dark curly hair bounced a little as
he did so.
 
When he looked at her
again, he seemed looser somehow.
 
“I
like that,” he told her.
 
“I’m a
pretty big deal.
 
I need to have you
get on the phone and remind my parents of that.”

“They don’t know it?”

He shook his head.
 
“Unfortunately not.
 
The big offices and jets don’t fool the
people who raised you.”

“Well, I didn’t raise you so…I’m kind of
scared right now.”