“Can’t keep them waiting, dear,” she said thinly, gesturing at the door.
“Through there.”
I swallowed heavily as I rose and smoothed down my skirt and blouse before slowly stepping to the thick wooden door.
The long hallway past the door from the reception area was lowly lit and endless. My heels clicked loudly on the marble floor as I slowly made my way closer and closer to the office.
Theiroffice — the office of Mr. Black, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Harlow, apparently.
I suddenly wished I’d done my homework a little better before coming to the interview.
“Enter.”
The deep voice resonated through the door as I knocked. I took one final breath before I placed my hand on the silvered knob, turned it, stepped into the room…
…And promptly almost tripped over my jaw.
I’d been picturing three stuffy, crotchety old men — three bent-over, grey-haired senior citizens with bifocals and walking canes.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The three men waiting for me in the room were simplygorgeous. Young, ruggedly handsome, built men. One stood by the window, the other leaned against a thick wooden desk facing the door, and the third sat to one side on a sofa with his feet up on a small coffee table. But all three of them staredrightat me with intense, burning,hungrystares.
I swallowed again, feeling the heat pulse to my cheeks under their gaze.
“Close the door, Ms. Holloway,” the man leaning against the front of the desk murmured, his voice smooth like leather and dark wood.
I did as I was told, shivering as I shut myself into the room with these three intense men.
“Sit,” the man on the sofa said sharply, gesturing at a chair in the middle of the room between me and them. I nodded quickly and made my way to it, smoothing my skirt down nervously as I took a seat.
“You seem surprised,” the man by the window growled out, his sharp blue eyes flashing and only accentuated by the dark, slightly curled hair on his head.
The man leaning against the desk — blonde and also blue-eyed with a chiseled jawline — chuckled darkly, crossing his arms across his chest.
I took a shaky breath, and started to open my mouth when the dark-haired man on the sofa shook his head, holding a hand up.
“You aren’t the first woman we’ve met with today who was expecting to meet with perhaps somewhatolderinterviewers.” He smirked, his dark eyes flashing at me.
“We keep ourselves and our company out of the media light, Ms. Holloway. We prefer to keep thingspersonal.” He purred the last word in a way that only warmed the flush in my cheeks more.
God, they’re so attractive.
I mentally admonished myself for the thought that crept into my head — well, that and the otherhighlyunprofessional ones that followed involving the men in front of me. And yet, it couldn’t be helped. The men werestunninglygood looking, in that unfair, biological way. They were attractive in that magnetic way that pulls at you on an evolutionary level, and they werecertainlypulling at something deep inside of me.
Something hot, something dark, and something forbidden.
I quickly took a sharp breath and centered myself inside, trying to will the heat from between my legs. I forced myself to smile politely and professionally instead of letting the sudden dirty thoughts inside my head get ahold of me.
“My name is Hunter Black, Ms. Holloway,” the man by the window said in his smooth, yet gruff voice.
“And these are my partners in Camelot Holdings, Damien Caldwell and Sean Harlow.”
I nodded, and I was just opening my mouth to respond, when Mr. Caldwell — the man leaning against the desk, spoke sharply.
“You’re aware of the duties involved with the position?”
I nodded quickly, feeling the raw power in that voice of his take ahold of me.