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It’s been a while since I’ve actually looked for a job or been to an interview. I forgot how it felt. Nerve-wracking and exciting at the same time. My erratic pulse drums in my temples as I listen to the newcomer’s deep voice softly filtering through the room. He gives an impression of being in charge and
in control while I feel completely opposite.
You can’t fail, I remind myself.
“Mrs. Cade.”
I pivot around with a smile in place to hide my nervousness.
“Please, meet my partner and Fading Ink CEO, Mr. Lawson.”
I blink in surprise as the surreal feeling takes over me once I lock my gaze with his whiskey ones, blazing at me.
Everything fades, only my heartbeat thumps in the space between us like a rain barrel during the rainstorm. My pulse spikes as his gaze reaches something deep within me and draws it to the surface. Shocked, I take a step back, just to be able to breathe easier.
Everything about this man screams intelligent, power and wealth—from the impeccable clothes on his masculine frame to his shoes and watch. His sharp jaw graced with neat scruff moves as he swallows, and lips so full and biteable tug into a subtle grin.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cade.” Husky undertones like syrup slide down my chest and my erratic pulse skitters beneath my skin.
I press my feet harder to the floor, needing to ground myself and stop my senses from spinning out of control.
“You can call me Cassandra.” I lick my lips as my cheeks grow warm from his unnerving attention. To break his laser focus, I turn to Mr. Greer, hoping to dissolve the tension stretching my nerves even thinner. “Shall we begin?” I urge.
“Of course, please take a seat.” They both move around the table until they sit opposite me. “And please call me Robert.”
I nod, turning to Mr. Lawson, who doesn’t extend his invitation to call him by his first name. No, he stays silent and sharp, like a blade about to slice the air with his power.
Those whiskey eyes, like burnt caramel, are tracking my every movement. My fingers curl around the cold glass, and I lift it to my mouth to wet my dry throat, but it’s almost empty.
His jaw tightens as I catch the last drop of water with my tongue. I shake off my thoughts, clearing my throat to talk, beyond surprised he affects me this way.
“What would you like to know?” I force myself to look away from him. “I think we covered quite a lot during the video chats.”
“Why do you want to work here, Cassandra?” My nipples pebble hearing Mr. Lawson's deep timbre directed to me. He leans forward, resting his arms on the table, and holds me like a captive with his gaze. “You have worked at the investment bank before.”
I slowly nod.
“Why us, why such a huge change? Why now?”
“Fair enough.” I gulp, affected by his intensity. “When I received the agency’s recommendation to work at Fading Ink, I threw myself into research, embracing the opportunity presented to me. I wanted to know if your company is the place where I want to start my career.”
“And are we?” His lips curl up into an amused smile.
“Your company successfully manages over five hundred unique authors and also collaborates with other publishing houses. You have publishing operations in seventeen countries. In such a short time, you’ve made quite a name between the ‘shark’ publishing houses. Fading Ink acquired an impressive portfolio. So yes, I believe you are.”
His eyes sparkle with pride. “Hmm,” he hums and for some reason that makes me more annoyed.
Mr. Lawson stands up, straightening his fitted suit jacket lapels, and walks around. He moves like a hunter, all smooth muscles and lithe strength in an immaculate suit. I don’t move or dare to breathe as he grabs a bottle from the mini-fridge and comes to pour it into my empty glass.
“Is it the only reason you want to work here?” His warm breath cascades down my neck, and I’m tempted to close my eyes and savor the seductive hint of warm, spicy sandalwood drifting off him in waves.
Jesus Christ! Snap out of it!
“Some of your authors are winners of the Nobel Prize, and a few snatched the National Book Award last year. Reviews are also great, and the authors are happy to work with you. This encourages me to seek a position here, hoping I might be part of your growing achievements.”
When I stop, he pushes the glass toward me. He rests on the edge of the table next to me, still waiting for something. I shift in my seat, needing space that’s not thrumming with abundant sexual energy, to think clearly. But I settle for a glass of water.
Get yourself together!
