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I close my eyes, feeling the sense of familiar wash over me and have to school my features lest I betray the thrumming of anticipation in my chest.
Will she recognize me?
The thought circles in my mind as I turn around, slowly. “Miss West.”
Kendall West looks even lovelier in person than she did in her photograph. That ashen hair of hers, which has always set her apart, is longer, reaching the dip of her waist, tied into a neat braid. Her caramel skin along with her hazel eyes with specks of gold in them, now on the face of an adult woman are so striking that I have to force myself to organize my train of thought, not having prepared to be faced with this.
She’s beautiful.
And she has no idea who I am.
The lack of recognition in her eyes shouldn’t have hurt as much as it does but I swallow the bitter taste and gesture with my hand. “Take a seat.”
She’s wearing a faded pencil skirt and a navy-blue blouse someone has clearly spent hours scrubbing the stains out of. The blazer covering the slim set of shoulders has clearly been worn to hide the large protruding stain on the back, a part of which is still visible from where I sit, and the blazer itself is a size larger.
She has borrowed her clothes, and something churns in my gut, a dissatisfaction that she doesn’t even own something decent to wear to an interview while I’m drowning in wealth.
Well, that’s going to change.
When she leaves the office today, she’ll have more than enough resources at her fingertips. I plan to make sure of that.
Kendall is clutching onto a slim file, so tightly that her knuckles are white.
I give her a few seconds to settle herself and I watch her, taking in the way she’s fretting over her lower lip. It amuses me to see she hasn’t gotten out of this habit.
“I…” she starts and fades off, before suddenly thrusting the thin file at me, nearly smacking me with it. “My resume!”
She looks so nervous that I feel the urge to soothe her and my tone is uncharacteristically gentle as I take the file from her, while lying easily, “Thank you. I needed this. I seem to have misplaced the one I had.”
The relief on her face is paramount at doing at least one thing right.
I pretend to look through the resume as if I don’t already have it memorized, and then ask, “How did you hear about this job opening?”
Kendall blinks, and to my surprise, the prospect of answering a question actually steadies her, and I can’t help the rush of pride as she sits up straighter. “I got a call from the job center I sent my resume to. They said they accidentally sent my resume among some others and your HR department got in touch with them.”
Well, that is the official story anyway, I muse, hiding my smirk. “Do you have any experience working as a private assistant?” I ask, trying to keep the questions relevant.
Kendall nods so enthusiastically that her braid spills over her shoulder, strands of unique colored hair glinting under the beam of abandoned sunlight streaking in from the floor-to-ceiling window behind me. “I was a secretary for six months at Flour Industries.”
Now, I glance at her resume, curious. “You’ve not listed it here.”
She swallows.
I can see the way she reaches for her ear, her one tell for when she’s about to lie. I watch her with vivid interest.
“It was a few months and I had to leave due to a two-hour commute.”
I know where Flour Industries is. I also know that it’s fifteen minutes from her house by subway. However, there is plenty of time to get her to spill her secrets to me. “Did you like the work?”
There is hesitance on her face which she’s struggling to hide. “The work wasn’t that much. I mostly handled all correspondence, had a sound knowledge of the contracts going in and out, arranged his meetings.”
I actually hadn’t even been expecting that much from her but it pleases me to know that she knows most of how this arrangement works. I have never needed a PA before. Duke, my butler/friend/ex-con roommate usually handles all these details for me.
“Do you know how to work a coffee machine?” I ask lightly.
Now, Kendall’s face flushes. “No, but I can learn.”
I make a considering sound and lean back in my chair, before drawling, my eyes on hers, “The thing is, Miss West, out of all the candidates, I feel you might be a good fit for me. But there are certain expectations that I have, ones I expect you to fulfill.”
