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If her father was a lousy hacker, then why did the syndicate think she’d be good at playing corporate spy? Anyhow, she didn’t have a choice. With his health problems, her father wouldn’t survive in jail.
Anna glanced furtively at her interviewer and his brother Raphael who sat near the window. Raphael did nothing but ogle her after she was seated. It was unnerving.
Minutes passed in silence as Justin pored over her résumé. Anna had seen his photos plastered across the tabloids and magazines in recent years, and she had to admit he looked even better in person. He and his two brothers had recently been crowned as the sexiest men alive and they all lived up to the title. Their mouth-watering beauty bordered on unreal.
According to her source, the Martels’ publicist had insisted that being indistinguishable triplets might not be the best campaign tactic since they wanted to sell their individual personalities to the public. And so, to tell the brothers apart from one another, the publicist suggested they wear coloured contacts. Justin would be the one with violet eyes, Raphael with blue, and Matt stayed with their natural eye colour of deep sea green.
As Anna studied Justin closely, she thought those gorgeous irises of his looked as if they were his natural ones. His large, almond-shaped eyes were shielded with dark, lush lashes that complimented his refined features and sensuous lips. His lightly tanned skin looked like caramel tempered in sunshine.
Anna unconsciously swallowed, pushing away the thought of licking him to see if he was as delicious as he looked. A burst of shame surfaced afterward. What am I doing? She pinched herself hard. Focus. Get the job.
She’d heard that Justin and his brothers were notorious Casanovas. Falling for these sex fiends was the last thing she should do.
Justin peered at her from above the edge of the papers then set them down carefully. “You have an impressive résumé, Miss Vincent. However…”
Her heart sank as he continued.
“…we’re not looking for someone of your calibre at the moment.”
Her hope shattered into pieces. She thought of her father who would have to spend the rest of his life in jail just because he was naive enough not to know that helping his friend recover access to some misplaced bank accounts was equal to larceny.
Her father had been duped. With the evidence in their hands, the syndicate had threatened Anna. If she was unwilling to do their dirty job, they would turn her father over to the Feds. Those bank accounts her father had hacked belonged to the US government. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that kind of crime carried a hefty punishment. And getting a job at the Martel design house was the only way to buy her father’s freedom.
Now, how was she supposed to get her hands on that formula if she couldn’t get close to one of the brothers? Anna unconsciously twisted her fingers until they were all white, thinking that perhaps she might still be able to salvage the situation. “If I may ask, sir, what kind of qualification do you expect for this personal assistant vacancy?”
That earned her a wolfish smile from Justin. If he looked like a reserved young businessman before, now he looked like a big, bad wolf that couldn’t wait to eat her whole in one bite.
He drummed his long, tapered fingers on the glassy surface of his desk, and his gaze bore down on her with such intensity that all of a sudden, she felt the air around her thinning. She felt as if she were falling under the spell of his hypnotic eyes.
“Let me ask you something. How did you find out about this job anyway? As I recall, my brothers and I were just joking to our colleague that we need our own personal assistant.”
“From Marian Bancroft’s secretary, sir.” Bancroft was the Martels’ publicist. The syndicate had ordered her to approach Bancroft to see if she could get Anna close to the Martels. When Bancroft’s secretary mentioned that the brothers needed a personal assistant to manage their busy schedule, Anna jumped on it as her chance to get into the Martels’ lair.
“Ah.” Justin leant back in his chair. He glanced at his brother, Raphael, who was sitting near the window, and traded a conspiratory grin.
Unlike Justin, with his clean-cut hair and meticulously crisp expensive suit, Raphael was the true personification of the bad boy image. His onyx hair fell just below his ears and the muscle tee he wore revealed the perfect body underneath.
Anna had seen him dressed only in his underwear in one of the gossip magazine’s shots. His sex appeal made her dizzy. Rumour had it he could make a woman wet in five seconds flat.
“Actually, we’re looking for a different type of personal assistant,” Justin announced.
“Oh, for God’s sake, just tell her the truth.” Raphael rose from his seat and stalked over to her with the gait of a predator. He sat on Justin’s desk and cast her a smile that rivalled his brother’s. “We’re looking for a fuck doll. A plaything. Someone to manage our personal life and also warm our bed.”
Fuck doll? Plaything? Warm their bed? Those words! Were they even possible to be strung together in the same sentence without sugar-coating the perverseness in their actual meaning? Fire burned in her cheeks when Raphael’s words fully sank into her brain.
“Of course, we’re prepared to offer the right candidate a generous compensation,” Justin added, slipping into his businessman’s persona again.
Anna gulped hard. “How much money are we talking here?”
“Two million dollars for a one-year contract. All expenses paid. Wardrobe and accessories to polish your image to fit our standard would also be provided. Also, medical benefits and the possibility of a generous year-end bonus if your performance meets our expectations.”
Good lord. That was a whole freaking lot of money. Her father had been promised fifty grand to help his friend-turned-syndicate, and he’d done it because she was having trouble paying off her student loans. College was so damned expensive nowadays. “I-I really need this job.” Anna managed an excuse, which wasn’t far from the truth. “I need the money to pay my debts.”
Justin and Raphael grinned in symphony.
Somehow, the image of two big, bad wolves and she as the juicy meat they couldn’t wait to sink their teeth into flashed in her mind.
“Are you saying you’re interested in being our fuck doll, Miss Vincent?” Justin asked her to the point.
