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People usually take one look at me, they take in my flamboyant appearance and don’t see my brains. I like to dress loudly, I talk a lot and I can be hasty, but I know I’m smart and intelligent. I obtained a full scholarship from an Ivy League university and I graduated with honors.
I watch him study what I’ve done and despite the surly look on his face, he can’t hide the fact that he’s impressed.
I wait for him to say some words of praise.
Then the jerk doesn’t let anything out of his mouth, except, “Let me see your résumé.”
Grumbling silently, I hand him the paper.
Quietly, he looks through it.
I feel a little self-conscious because it’s got no jobs listed on it since I never really worked in a company before. I fidget with my hands, trying to hide my nerves, wondering why it’s taking him so much damn time to read through it.
Finally, he puts it down and eyes me with open dislike. “Fine. You’re hired.”
My mouth goes dry as my heart starts beating with excitement.
Yes!
“Did Raymond tell you about—”
I don’t let him finish, gesturing with my hand, trying to hide the flicker of disappointment, “Yes, I know, it’s an unpaid internship.”
“If you’d stop interrupting me,” he says, stiffly. “I was about to tell you that it’s not. This won’t be on the contract, but
I will be paying you out of my pocket. I’m not going to exploit you.”
My freelance gigs had ensured me hefty savings, so I hadn’t been particularly worried about the money. But when Uncle Raymond had mentioned this job to me, it had irked me how I would be expected to work a nine-to-five job and yet, I wouldn’t be paid a penny for all the work they would be taking out of me.
So, when Jace tells me that he will be paying me, I soften towards him.
He’s a decent sort, I decide.
I might just like him, I decide.
So, I beam at him, turning my full-voltage smile in his direction, making him blink, dazedly. “Thanks!”
He looks uncomfortable now. “Yeah, sure. So, when can you start?”
I stare at him. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing yet.”
“Oh.” He runs his hand over his head.
I wonder at how much hair gel he uses and whether his hand gets all sticky after he touches it. The thought grosses me out and I shudder.
He frowns and asks icily, “Is something bothering you, Miss Cooper?”
My face turns red when I realize he’s clearly noticed the way I’ve been gawking at his hair and I fumble with my hands. “No.” My voice sounds guilty like a child in trouble.
He sighs.
When I lift my head, I see the exasperation in his eyes.
“You’ll be working directly with me. The project we’ll be working on is for two very important clients, so I’m going to have you sign an NDA.”
When I don’t say anything, he raises a brow. “I assume you know what that is.”
“Of course, I do,” I smile, cheerfully. Asshole.
