I have attached my résumé. I’m sorry for taking up so much of your valuable time.
Thank you for your consideration,
Olive Porter
P.S. I’m sorry for kissing you on the lips. I really was trying to kiss you on the cheek. I was told you were European, so I was trying to make you comfortable. I was clearly wrong about both.
I chuckle, reading her email. I don’t know why she thinks she should be our manager or why I would even consider her. She has no experience, and on her résumé, she doesn’t even list if she has her real estate license. She has no qualifications for the job. But I have to hear her try to explain herself to me. Maybe it will cheer me up from the fact that Jamie will never be mine, but I’m stuck in this frigid, cold place anyway.
I stand up and walk over to my office door before opening it. Olive is seated at her desk, typing away on her computer.
“Olive, I’d like to see you in my office.”
She narrows her eyes and frowns but then slowly turns her frown into a fake smile before getting up from her desk. “Of course.”
I hold the door open for her as she walks into my office and takes a seat across from me. I take my time in walking back to my seat behind my desk, letting the anxiety that I know she must be feeling creep up higher and higher until I’m sure it’s seeping out of every pore in her body.
“Do you know why I called you into my office?”
“No idea,” Olive answers honestly.
It’s strange not to hear a sir or Mr. Burrows. That’s how I’m always treated—formally and with respect. Olive doesn’t bother with sir or misters though. At least, she doesn’t today.
“I wanted to talk to you about your application.”
Her eyes widen. “Is this an interview?”
I smirk at her thinking I would give her an interview so easily. “No, this is more like a preinterview.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me why you think you have the qualifications to even apply for this position?”
She takes a deep breath, and then for the first time, I see the tiniest spark in her eyes.
“Because I have more experience than anyone other than Jamie in this company. I know my title says assistant, but I do a lot more than a typical assistant would. I am Jamie’s right-hand woman. And I know that, if she had to choose a manager, she would choose me. I deserve this position. I’ve worked my ass off for five years. I’ve earned a promotion. I don’t have my real estate license because it’s expensive to take the test, and there was no need to get it if I was never going to get promoted, but I could pass the test in my sleep. I know everything there is to know about real estate, and if I don’t get this job, then I quit.” She bites her lip when she says the last word, like she didn’t mean to reveal to me that she planned on quitting if she didn’t get the job.
But her biting her lip has drawn my attention back to her lips instead of staying focused on the task at hand. It would be nice to have that lip on my mouth again.
“You should quit.”
Her eyes widen so much, I’m afraid they are going to pop out of her head. “What?”
“If you quit, then I can fuck you, and I really want to fuck you. If you stay, well, then I can’t.”
God, what am I saying? This is definitely harassment.
I’ve been forward with women before, but this might be taking it a bit too far. It’s just been too long since I’ve had a woman in my bed.
“I have a boyfriend.”
I smirk. “I doubt that.”
She frowns. “His name is Owen, and he’s a musician. And I quit, but not so that I can fuck you. I quit. Good luck running this company on your own without me. You’re going to need it.”
I watch as she stands up and begins to walk out of my office. This really isn’t going how I planned it.
“Wait,” I say, standing up.