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The Go board caught Natalie’s attention.
She drew a palm to her chest. “Aw. You haven’t touched your checkers game in forever.”
“It’s Go.”And so should you.“You were saying?”
“Right.” She cleared her throat. “Forgive me for overstepping, but I couldn’t help but overhear your mother’s conversation with Celeste the other day when they visited for lunch.”
She forced herself to maintain eye contact with me. No easy feat. My default expression was set to hostile.
She flattened her free hand over her skirt, continuing. “I know you’re auditioning women as potential… umm, you know, life partners.”
Poor Natalie.
She didn’t think she stood a chance, did she?
I had nothing against my assistant. In the same way I had nothing against people who wore Crocs.
Just because I found them fundamentally tasteless did not mean they did not deserve to breathe.
Or so society insisted.
Natalie was excruciatingly average.
Pretty—but not beautiful.
Hardworking—but not genius.
She’d attended an Ivy League college for her master’s, but those had steadily produced idiots since their inception.
She lacked any real personality or talent.
In fact, I’d only chosen her as an assistant because she didn’t possess the usual aversion to long hours and basic math.
“And I was thinking…” She licked her lips, dropping her gaze from my face to the floor, brushing her mousy brown hair back. “I think you should definitely consider me. I’m hard working and quiet.”
Not right now you aren’t.
She hopped from foot to foot. “I take directions really well. I’m dutiful and a team player.”
Team player? How many people did she think I planned on inviting into my sack?
“I will not give you trouble. I… I…” Her cheeks turned scarlet. She pinched her lips together before forcing nonsensical words to tumble out. “I will do whatever you want—however you want it—in bed. I’m not even asking for exclusivity. I’m a survivor. I want a good life. And I have a feeling you’re a survivor, too, Mr. Sun. I don’t know how or why, but I see it in you.”
I didn’t ask her what she saw.
I did not care.
But Natalie was in the zone, already too far gone to notice her reluctant audience was unimpressed by her lackluster performance.
She closed her eyes and heaved in a breath. “You have this air about you, like you’re ready for war at the drop of the hat. I know that look. I wear it, too, sometimes.”
“I appreciate a good hustler, Natalie, but I am in the market for something rather specific.”
Her eyes clung to mine. “What is it?”
“Whoever gets Constance Sun’s stamp of approval.”
She shoved out an awkward, stilted laugh. “Is Constance your cult leader?”
