The woman glanced at the clock that read twelve fifty-nine. “Wait here, please,” the woman said, and gestured to the couches by the door.
I pressed my lips together. I was already late, and now had to wait. I wondered if this was a sign that I had already ruined my chances. I knew I looked a mess, with my ratty shoes and quickly worsening hair situation. This interview was already turning out to be a disaster of epic proportions.
“Miss Cates?” A middle-aged woman with a soft voice appeared. I stood quickly, recognizing her voice from over the phone.
“Yes. Hi.” I smoothed out my skirt and hair, and followed her to the elevators.
“Hi. My name is Martha and I’ll take you to the conference room where you’ll wait for Mr. Hayes and Mr. Phillips,” she explained in the elevator.
“Thank you,” I said. “Were all applicants invited today?” I asked curiously.
“No. Mr. Hayes had only just extended me your information before I called you.” She then looked me up and down and pursed her lips.
I fought to keep my expression neutral. After such short notice, what did they expect? Did they think I would be just sitting around in a suit, waiting on their call with my portfolio in hand?
We reached the top floor and I clutched my purse and folder as we walked down the hall. Cubicles lined one side, while small pods of lounge chairs lined the other. Market numbers were displayed on a huge screen.
At the end of the hall, we stopped at a clear door—the kind you could only see shadows through.
“Wait here,” Martha instructed. I watched her walk away in her gray pant suit and somehow knew I hated her.
Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I hoped I wouldn’t have to stand for long. My shoes were too small, my feet hurt, and sweat was running my back.
It was half past one before the door swung open. I gave a slight start, thinking I was looking at the company’s advertisement models. One of them, tall with blond hair and blue eyes, wore a welcoming smile. His navy-blue suit looked like a second skin, the tight jacket drawing attention to his muscles. And the other one was the exact definition of dark and handsome. His dark brown hair hung artfully around his brown eyes, which were sharp, just like his jawline. My eyes trailed over his mouth, realizing he was frowning.
“H-hello,” I stammered. “I’m Henley Cates.” I held out my hand, and the friendlier one took it. There was a good five-second delay before the other moved to shake my hand.
“I’m Maverick Phillips,” the friendlier one said. “And this is Jude Hayes. We’re the ‘H and P.’” Maverick smiled warmly again and I relaxed a little bit until I noticed Jude still frowning, looking over me like I was a rare specimen.
“It’s wonderful to meet you both,” I said, nervously clutching my purse strap.
“Same here. Please, come in,” Maverick said, turning around. I could have sworn he shot Jude a look. As I followed them, I wished I’d spent more time getting ready; it would have been worth being late to have makeup, proper hair, and shoes that weren’t broken.
I sat across from them both; they had chosen a table in the corner, so if I moved the wrong way, I would collide with their knees, as they were both so tall.
Jude took off his black suit jacket and leaned across the table. Tattoos peeked on his wrist and my eyes widened before glancing away and looking at Maverick instead. He gave me another warm smile and I handed him my portfolio.
“So, Miss Cates—why do you want to protect our assets?” Jude asked.
3
Maverick
The day got progressively worse as it went along. I started at five as I did every morning to train at my home gym. Having a home gym wasn’t about being pretentious; it was just easier to work out and then get ready for work without a commute in between. It was strictly cardio, so I ran my three miles and had a steam before dressing in one of my usual navy suits.
I had my typical breakfast, consisting of black coffee before I got to the office and an egg and spinach omelet as I read emails. When nine o’clock rolled around, I had my meeting with the support staff that Jude never attended.
Needless to say, my life had become a monotonous routine, or at least that was the case until the sudden shift with Hatchett that I still had no idea how to recover from.
Jude always said I worried too much, but that’s because he never worried about anything. That might have been why we’d been friends and successful business partners for so long. The company was everything to both of us, even if Jude liked to pretend it wasn’t his pride and joy.
In light of the ongoing crisis with Hatchett, I forced Jude to come to the next meeting. Whether he wanted to be there or not, I needed his support because the whole situation was driving me mad. I was even losing sleep, spending far too many hours watching the market as the numbers dropped, rose, held, and then dropped again.
“I don’t know why you’re so worked up about this. It’ll blow over,” Jude said, once we’d dismissed the partners from our meeting.
I paced the conference room, frustrated. The days never used to go like this. Previously, I would show up and work hard before taking off at the end of the day, sometimes with Jude if he wanted to go to the bar we frequented or to meet with women. Some of these women intuitively understood it would never go any further than just sex. Yet, Jude never exactly made these agreement entirely clear, and therefore sometimes had to deal with them not wanting to leave the following morning.
Regardless, on this day, there had been nothing on my mind but the stock with that tech start-up.