She purses her lips. “Okay. For reasons I won’t pretend to understand, you intrigued Magnus Heron. He’s not used to people doing anything but fawning over him or else cursing him after he’s won a negotiation. Frankly, I believe it’s a horrible business decision to hire someone with few qualifications for this position just because they piqued his curiosity. I couldn’t convince him otherwise, though, so here we are.”
My gut sinks as she pauses.
“You need to understand his assistants don’t last long,” she continues. “They never have, and after they quit, they usually need therapy. Don’t get all starry-eyed over the compensation package and starting salary and bite off more than you can chew. This would be a hard job for someone with a lot more direct experience than you have.”
I swallow air and push a strand of hair out of my face. “What is the compensation?”
Before she can answer, the door whips open.
And there he stands.
King Dickwad himself, staring at me with an oh-so-superior look imprinted on his face as he adjusts his cufflinks. He’s a razor of a man, so tall and chiseled and rock-hard it’d probably hurt any girl unlucky enough to wind up in his arms even before he smashes her heart to bits.
Magnus strolls in and sits right beside me like I’m already his. Practically in my freaking lap.
In his element, he looks like less of a jackass. Ever so slightly.
But my eyes could be deceiving me because, yes, he’s sculpted like a Greek god, and I hate it.
He looks past me to Ruby. “Have you got the paperwork done yet? I need my new assistant today. There’s more than enough work and no time to waste.”
“Since when do you interrupt my interviews?” Ruby stares him down.
“Since I haven’t had an assistant in weeks,” he growls.
I glare at him. “I bet that’s not Miss Hunting’s fault. She says you’re a dick to work for.”
He scowls at me but doesn’t answer.
Ruby’s eyes trace from me, to him, and back to me.
Her lonely laughter breaks the silence. “You know, you might work out.”
Mag darts a glance at Ruby. “Glad you concur. So, no more holdups?”
“I’m ignoring you so I can finish this interview,” she says. Her eyes connect with mine. “Do you have any experience as an executive assistant or an executive-level secretary?”
I shake my head. “My experience is all graphic design if you don’t count summer jobs in fast food and groceries. I’ve made a lot of memes.”
Beside me, Magnus leans his elbow on the desk and covers his mouth.
Oh, God. Is he hiding a smile?
I know what he’s thinking. Cat memes.
Probably remembering his pathetic cat-toonist jab that wouldn’t make a twelve-year-old laugh.
“Where do you see yourself in five years, Miss Bristol?” she asks.
“Still thankful I survived today,” I say.
Oops. Wrong answer.
Ruby raises an intrigued brow at Heron. He motions her to continue, an impatient scowl tugging at his handsome face.
“And your greatest weakness?” Ruby asks.
I gnaw on my lip, trying hard this time to come up with the right response. Finally, I say, “Right now, the forty-something bucks left in my bank account.”
Magnus shifts again and slaps his hands on the table.
“Enough. Ruby, you of all people know I don’t appreciate wasting time. Get the damn paperwork signed. Now.”
My eyes flick to this rich, built, and bad-tempered grump and those hot blue eyes catch mine. They’re bright enough to sear me in my seat.
I think that’s when I know.
I am being punked.
Only, it turns out I’m doing it to myself by wading neck-deep into this insanity.4Old Alma Mater (Magnus)“One problem.” Ruby smiles at me, winding herself up to enjoy what’s next. “Sabrina Bristol hasn’t agreed to anything just yet.”
My jaw tightens.
Miss Bristol sits beside me, staring at me wide-eyed, all big brown-eyed beauty and rosy innocence I can’t afford to dwell on.
However, I also can’t wait to slam her with the more than two hundred emails I haven’t gotten to today. Just because I need a good EA doesn’t mean I’m above enjoying myself.
Sweet revenge for trashing my Italian shoes.
I’d love to stick around and enjoy her shock in person, but I have to take the afternoon off. To the rest of the world, I’m doing a literary event—a charity sort of thing—one of many HeronComm initiatives to improve my dire image in the media and the company’s.
To me, it’s a bit more personal.
“Does Miss Bristol have any objections with the position?” I snap, tenting my fingers.
Ruby opens her mouth like she’s going to speak, but I don’t let her get a word out.
“Is she a serial swindler, an arsonist, or an axe murderer?”
Ruby runs a hand through her hair, wrinkling her nose. “If she is, she’s doing it in style.”
“Exactly. Tell her to sign the contract, then, so she can get to work and we can finish this nonsense. I need her today,” I growl.