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I nod, giving her a look of what I hope looks like sympathy. “I have been in charge of interviews and hiring staff myself in previous jobs,” I say. “I can only imagine the work it takes with a new store of this nature.”
“You’ve no idea,” she sighs. “And due to some recent management changes, Mr. Petrov has insisted on joining us to ensure all potential staff are the right fit. He’s running a little late, I’m afraid.” She checks her watch and frowns. “Which isn’t like him.”
Mr. Petrov sounds like a busy man. I hope he’s not a pill.
Still, if she works for him, he can’t be all that bad.
“No problem at all.” I plaster a smile on my face as I get ready for my well-versed spiel. “I completely understand. You want the right person with the right experience. I’m happy to say that I’ve been part of an amazing team at my previous job in Cartier, where I was actually being trained as a buyer before the…”
Her gaze moves over my shoulder and her smile falters. “Ah,” she says, giving whoever she’s staring at a terse look. “Good afternoon, Mr. Petrov. Nice of you to join us.”
I turn my head slightly and at the same time our eyes meet, Doris says, “Please meet Imogen Anderson, she’s interviewing for the store manager position.”
Crystal blue eyes stare back at me and my mouth hangs open.
Holy fuck.
Khristian?
I swallow hard.
His face falters for a split second before he recovers, smiling in that sexy way of his as he moves to shake my hand. “Apologies, I had an important phone call that took longer than expected.” Just like that. It’s as if we’ve never met before.
Our hands touch and a buzz of electricity jolts through me.
My mystery man. Khristian is Mr. Petrov?
What the fuck is going on?
I frown and he notices, his brow creasing as he turns to Mrs. Whitman. “Please, why don’t we move into my office.” He glances around the messy desk with distaste. “It will give us more room.”
Mrs. Whitman glances up, confused. “Your office, sir?” Clearly, this is highly unorthodox judging by her tone.
His frown deepens. “Why not? It’s tidier than this one.”
She narrows her eyes, then realizing I’m still here, she plasters a smile on her face. “Of course, Mr. Petrov. Imogen, we’re apparently relocating.”
“Oh, okay.” I tear my eyes away from Khristian and tuck my hair behind my ears.
I have so many questions. The first one being; who the fuck are you? Followed closely by; Who the hell did I screw?
Goosebumps travel over my skin when I think about the things he did to me and how much I’ve been thinking about him doing it all again.
Mrs. Whitman stands and I follow suit. Khristian is still staring at me, but I can’t look at him.
I smile politely as Mrs. Whitman gives me a tight smile, taking my file as she rounds the desk. She also gives me an eye roll when Khristian’s back is turned.
I’m about to follow her when I feel his hand at my elbow. “Imogen?” he whispers.
My lips part as I stare up at him. Was he always this tall?
“Yes?” I whisper back.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m interviewing for the store manager for Tre’sor.”
He lets go of me as Mrs. Whitman turns her head and I hurry along to keep up with her.
