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By the end of the interview, I had a deep respect for Madeline, and I consented to have a deep background check placed on me by the security firm. My background was squeaky clean, even if I was certain I didn’t have enough experience to qualify for the job.
I walked out of the interview and back to my truck feeling like I’d just stepped into another world.
It was only an hour later that I received a phone call from Madeline.
“It was a pleasure to meet you earlier, Roman. You’ve been selected for the short list. Would you be able to hop into a phone call with the security firm and then meet with my client for a one-on-one interview?”
I was stunned. “Absolutely,” I said. “When should we schedule it for?”
“The phone call can happen immediately, if you are ready. And my client would like to meet tonight,” she said. “Seven o’clock work for you?”
Another cascade of nerves flooded through me. These people moved at a lightning-fast pace. “Of course,” I said. “I would be happy to.”
“Stellar,” she said. “I will ping the firm to have them call you now. And we will see you at seven, here at the Golden Goose.”
Immediately after hanging up I had to call and switch shifts with one of my security guard buddies. I was supposed to work tonight, but like hell I was going to pass up a second-round interview for my dream job. The security firm Madeline was working with called me right afterward, and it was another grueling thirty minutes of questions.
I was asked what certifications I had, what training courses I’d taken, and of course, about my work history. I’d never been so grateful that I’d gotten a bunch of security certifications. Some of my security guard buddies had laughed when I’d gotten them, saying it was total overkill and I’d never need them.
But right now, it at least gave me a glimmer of hope.
When I headed back to the Golden Goose at seven, again I saw another stern guy who was built like a truck, leaving just as I was walking in. Madeline came out to greet me this time, pressing a clipboard into my hands.
“To meet with my client, you’ll have to sign this NDA. It’s a non-disclosure agreement affirming that you will not speak to anyone about the meeting today.”
“I see,” I said. I read every word of the contract carefully. I’d studied enough about security to know that I had to cover my own ass, too. The agreement was strict but reasonable—I simply wasn’t allowed to tell anyone who I had met today, and wasn’t allowed to tell anyone that the person was in Amberfield or Kansas at all.
Christ. The person really must have been somebody important. My mind went through options like a Rolodex—was I about to meet some political figure? An athlete? Maybe a pop star?
I signed the document. And Madeline nodded, leading me back down the hall.
But when I walked into the meeting room, it was a different place altogether than it had been earlier today.
All of the blinds were drawn shut. The room smelled amazing, like some mix of woodsy pine and rose. Madeline greeted me again, but at the end of the table, this time, was a man sitting with his legs up on the table, lounging there with a coffee mug in his hands and a wine glass sitting in front of him. Clearly, he’d made himself at home quickly here in the room.
As soon as my eyes landed on him, I felt that same melty feeling I had in Red’s Tavern a handful of nights ago.
It was him.
Theo.
I recognized him by the shiny, soft waves of his dark hair at first, which framed his high cheekbones. His green eyes were every bit as hypnotizing as they had been in the bar, but he wasn’t drunk now, which made him look even better, if that was possible.
Oh, God damn it.
The image of the filthy text I’d sent him flashed through my mind. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to get the job, now. He’d never even responded.
It had been fun while it lasted.
“Roman Bryant, I’d like you to meet Theo Castille,” Madeline said, shutting the meeting room door behind her and locking it. “Thank you for your discretion. I’m sure you see now why we had you sign the contract.”
“So you are someone famous,” I said, thinking out loud before I could stop myself.
His eyes went wide as he saw me. “Holy shit,” he said, the languid, tired look immediately disappearing from his face. He sat up a little straighter, though he still kept his feet up on the table. A gorgeous prince, cool and confident in his castle. He was wearing all black but had a multicolored scarf draped around his neck in a swoosh. He looked like he belonged in a European cafe. It was no wonder the meeting room felt transformed since the last time I was in here, just a few hours ago.
