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It sounds stupid, but I’ve never felt so God damned horny from looking at anything.
Maybe it’s the altitude, or maybe there’s added sugar in the OJ they’re serving. But there’s something about this Xander Alexander, something about this whole experience, that has me feeling like I’m falling deeper into it the longer I look at him.
The longer I spend in this first-class seat being waited on hand and foot, a girl could get used to this.
No wonder everybody hates rich people…They really do have it way better.
CHAPTER TWO
Xander
“No photo?” I ask without looking up.
Feeling more than annoyed as I flip through the wafer of a file in my hands.
“Uh…No sir. But she’s touching down any minute. The car will take her to the hotel –.”
My anger surprises me and watching my hand slam down on the desk, I realize just how uptight I’ve been lately.
“Well, how am I supposed to know who to have a face-to-face interview with if I have no idea what they fucking look like?” I roar, regretting it as soon as my words echo back off the office walls.
“Sorry, Mark. It’s…Not your fault. Just been a stressful week,” I murmur to my secretary in a rare show of apology.
“I know she’ll be at the hotel, so there’s no need for–.” I break off.
Mark’s face is granite, and lucky for me, he has the hide of a rhino. But fair’s fair. Nobody deserves to have me go off on them for something so stupid.
But it would be nice if I could at least see the latest executive material before I meet them.
“A new head of accounting for Condor is stressful,” Mark relates, “For all of us….”
The company projects a forever image, but the past two years have seen the company almost broke a dozen times.
I’ve done all I can to keep it afloat, but it’s time for me to step back after next year.
Maybe this year. Maybe the hotshot accountant can have my job too.
Christ, her resume reads like an article from one of those financial magazines. Maybe that’s what she wants anyway?
Pfft. She can fucking have it.
Someone younger, smarter, and with more grasp on the future can steer Condor Hotels back to victory once I’m through.
Me?
I had the sense to cash in my shares years ago. It was part of the hotel group’s first foray into financial strife after their global expansion, but it left me very comfortable.
But it was on the one condition. I stayed working at Condor for at least ten years.
And that was ten years ago last week.
Old man Condor, Kenneth C. Condor, is the only surviving family member of the hotel group’s namesake.
Shit, he must be a hundred by now, but I owe him the shoe in the door he gave me when I was young. And he never lets me forget it.
It was his idea to headhunt Ms. De Laurent from a finance company.
He might be old, but he runs the business like he’s my age.
Cocksure, and despite a recent track record for sucking at everything else, Condor is still a name that smacks of money – Old money and lots of it.
The buzzing of my office intercom has my anger rising again until I recall my impending retirement.
I promised myself I wouldn’t get so emotionally involved with work anymore. It’s not good for me.
“Yeah,” I quip, putting the receptionist on speaker so I can file the resume in its sleeve.
“A Ms. De Laurent is on line two,” the receptionist chirps, and I give Mark a suspicious glance.
Who would call an hour out from their final interview for the job they’ve pretty much already got?
“Mr. Alexander?” The receptionist asks, and I clear my throat.
“Uh…I’m about to leave to go meet her –,” I start to explain, fighting the rising annoyance in me again.
What is it with me today? It feels like someone’s walking over my grave.
“She’s been patched through from a toll-free number…from a payphone…,” the receptionist murmurs, picking up on my mood.
“Melissa, isn’t it?” I ask her, and she makes a little affirmative sound of recognition.
“Melissa. I’m about to have a meeting with Ms. De Laurent in a five-star hotel suite with a view of the entire West Coast. Do you even think she’d be calling me collect for one second?” I ask.
The restraint in my voice is fading.
“Sorry, Sir, but Ms. De Laurent tells me she’s been in some…trouble. Had her handbag snatched and then missed her flight,” Melissa whispers, almost hanging up before I put her on hold.
“Toll?” Mark mumbles, clutching his work folders to his chest, looking like he’s counting the seconds until I leave for the weekend as much as I am.
“Maybe,” I sigh, forcing a smile for Mark’s benefit as I consider things.
“Melissa? Tell whoever’s calling to get here whenever they can. I’ll be waiting,” I let her know, getting up from my desk and taking the resume with me.
