Page 17 of Rude Boss


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Quintessa

Ah…I can breathe and all is right with the world. I got the job! My interviewer, Amy Madisen, was cordial and professional – a far cry from my experience at DePaul & Company. I’m excited to think of all the things this job will do for me. The first thing I’m getting is an apartment, and after I’ve worked for a while, I will have saved up enough money to get a new car. This job is more than just a job – it’s my ticket to independence again. To starting over. My mother used to say that in life, we’re allowed to start over as many times as we need to, so I don’t feel bad about starting from scratch. It means I haven’t given up. I’m still in the race. That’s my motivation.

You did it, Quintessa. You did it!

I walk out of the building feeling on top of the world – a feeling like there’s nothing I can’t do. That feeling comes crashing to the ground when I see the cream-colored Maybach parked out front with a well-dressed man getting out of the back. A man I recognize.

It’s Essex flippin’ DePaul.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I say in a monotone to myself. My heart is pounding so hard and fast, I’m momentarily deaf. I’m so peeved, my vision blurs. I don’t want to deal with this man. I never wanted to see him again and here he is, in my line of sight. I’m in fight or flight mode. I choose flight. I’m eagerly looking for escape routes to get away from this man, but his presence is so larger-than-life, I can’t think clearly enough to come up with a suitable getaway plan. I’m stuck between this building and this tower of testosterone who shouldn’t be here. Why is he here, exactly?

Okay, maybe this has nothing to do with you, girl. He probably has business with somebody here, and the fact that he’s here is a mere coincidence. Just walk on by like you don’t see him.

I’ll try the walk-by approach. It’s all I’ve got at the moment. I’m looking down at my shoes, slowly making my way closer and closer to where he’s standing when he asks, “What are you doing here?”

I glance up quickly to see who he’s looking at – to determine if the question was directed at me.

It was.

His eyes are locked in on me like he has a score to settle.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, tossing the question back at him.

“I posed my question to you first. Answer it,” he says brusquely.

My mouth slacks open and I’m nearly at a loss for words at his demanding tone. The nerve of him. Either he’s not aware of his offensive nature, or he just doesn’t care how it’s received by the recipient.

I tell him, “I don’t have to answer anything. Why do you think you have total control over people? How’d you even know I was here?”

My questions go into one ear and straight out of the other. He says, “You were here for an interview and by the smile I saw on your face when you stepped outside, you got the position. But here’s the thing – I’m going to need you to turn down the offer, Ms. Bailey. The position at my company is better suited for someone with your qualifications.”

“Oh, please. How do you know anything about my expertise? You didn’t get to hear me talk about my skills or anything else. All you did was harass me and kicked me out of your building.”

“I didn’t kick you out, and I didn’t harass you, Ms. Bailey.”

“Okay. Belittle—is that a better word? You know what—I’m not doing this. This is sad. It really is because what it means is, you’re so much of a jerk, you don’t realize when you’re being one. It all comes naturally to you, doesn’t it?”

I keep on walking to my car when I hear the soles of his leather shoes keeping up with my pace. I’m tempted to take off in a full sprint, but I don’t want him to think I’m running from him. Who is he that I should run away and not stand my ground?

He says, “I will double whatever they offered you, plus three paid weeks of vacation and sick leave.”

I roll my eyes. While his offer sounds tempting, I’d be making a deal with the devil if I accepted anything this man threw out at me. Plus, I’d have to work in the same building as him, and that’s just unacceptable. I can’t stand being this close and we’re outside. The very thought of being in the same building, even if we were on different floors, would make me shudder.

I say, “No, thanks.”

“You’re being unreasonable, Ms. Bailey.”

“No, you’re the one being unreasonable.” I unlock my car door and continue, “And you should not be here. You have no business here. I am not your property. Go find someone else who fits the mold of what you’re looking for.”

“If you would be quiet—”

“You be quiet!”

He pauses at my sharpened glare for a moment, then continues, “You won’t be working directly for me. You’ll be working for a department that desperately needs you. You’ll report directly to that department head. I’ll hardly ever see you if that’s any consolation.”

“It’s not. Let me tell you something, Mr. DePaul. I came here to Dominion this morning for my interview and it was drama-free. It started on time, I didn’t spill coffee on myself, no one called me a liar, I didn’t break a heel and most importantly, the CEO didn’t disparage me. I think here is the better option.” I pull the door handle to open the door.

“Then give me your price,” he says, pushing the door back closed as if I can’t leave because he hasn’t dismissed me yet.

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