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CHAPTER3
Daddy Material~Olivia
Once I leftthe coffeehouse yesterday I went straight home to fill out the application for the job Mia told me about. To my surprise someone from HR called me at 8 a.m. this morning. The woman on the other line of the phone said that the CEO was in desperate need of an assistant and asked if I would be willing to come in for an interview this morning. The phone screening was brief, and luckily, I was able to answer a few simple questions.
Oreo peered up at me as she circled my feet. I spent all morning rummaging through my clothing in search of something decent to wear. Moving into my new shitty apartment drained what little savings I had and swiping my credit card wasn’t much of an option either since I’d maxed it out.Feeling like I struck gold when I spotted a black pencil skirt and a cream-colored blouse near the back of my closet, I snatched them off the hangers and tossed them on the bed.
“Well, what do you think?” I swirled on my heels toward Oreo, who was too busy licking her paws to be interrupted.
I smoothed out my skirt and prayed to the stocking goddess that the waistband wouldn’t roll down. Gliding the brush through my tresses once more, I put a fresh coat of gloss on my lips and headed out the door.
The drive over was swift. Stonebridge didn’t have hectic traffic like the big city that was located three hours away, and I was thankful. I parked in one of the visitor’s spots in front of the building and swallowed my resolve as I headed toward the glass doors in the distance. My little car stood out like a neon peacock among the luxury vehicles. The bottom of my flats glided beneath the shiny tile, and I stopped in front of the information desk.
Fussing with my wallet, I shoved my driver's license back inside and followed the guard to the silver elevators. He swiped the key card and gave me a dismissive nod as the door shut. I closed my eyes and counted to ten as I tried to calm my nerves. It’s fine. You're going to do great, and if not, there’s a broken espresso machine calling your name.
“Getting off?” a man asked.
I nodded, not realizing the doors had opened, and hurried past him.
“Good luck,” he said as he wiggled his brows.
The hallway was mostly quiet, with only a few conversations coming from open office doors. The man at the front desk told me that the interviewer was ready for me and to wait outside the door. Nearing the end of the hall, I stopped in front of a large, frosted glass door. Unsure if I should wait, I extended my arm to knock when the door swung open. The greeting that I practiced all morning dissolved on my tongue, leaving me with a pile of jumbled syllables.
A man with steel gray hair and penetrating hazel eyes stood before me. My spine melted at the sight of him, and my brain fogged. He quirked a brow and turned on his heels. With my movements frozen, I tracked his leopard-like grace across the room. I wondered if he remembered me from the coffee shop the other day. Probably not. The only people who remember me are bill collectors and my crazy ex.
“Are you going to come in, or do you want me to interview you from the hallway?” His voice's smooth yet deep baritone made my pulse jab in my neck.
I stepped from the hard tile onto the soft carpet and eyed the two large chairs sitting in front of his desk. His titan shoulders and barrel chest filled out the fabric of his shirt, which became tight around the biceps as he extended his arm, motioning me to take a seat.
“Resume?” he asked.
I slipped my fingers into my purse, retrieving a folded piece of paper, and slid it over as I avoided his gaze. Forgetting to remove my hand, the pads of his fingers brushed against mine, and I snapped my hand back when a surge of electricity surged between us. He leaned back in his chair, and I placed my hands in my lap. Lances of sunlight seeped in through the wide windows.
I waited draped in a veil of silence. The temptation to chew on the inside of my jaw possessed me, and I swallowed down the coppery taste of blood that trickled on my tongue. The top of my resume cut off just below his eyes, and I hated I didn’t look away in time before our gaze locked once more.
Lifting a brow, he shifted and lowered my resume to the desk. “You have no experience, you’re highly unqualified, and there‘s a stain on the corner of your resume.”
He slid my resume back over, and I stuffed it back into my purse. Gearing up to thank him for his time, I stood, but the look on his face made me sit back down.
“Unfortunately, I’m desperate, and I don’t have time to keep interviewing candidates. So, do you know how to read a calendar?”
I stilled my movements before nodding.
“Good. Do you have a good memory?”
I nodded again and slowly leaned back into the chair.
“Can you start now?”
“Um, well. I have a shift at the coffeehouse later today and—”
“A medium americano with an extra shot of espresso, a dash of heavy cream, one pump of vanilla syrup, and served extra hot,” he said, interrupting me.
“What?” I asked, caught off by his response.
He rose, and I raised my chin to meet his gaze.
“You said you had a good memory. That’s my coffee order. Don’t forget to mention you quit after you order my drink.”
He winked, and I flew out of my chair and was out the door. Fidgeting with the contents of my purse, I retrieved my car keys and slammed my palm onto the elevator button. I was only in his office for minutes and sweat covered every curve of my body, but the wet sensation in my panties blindsided me.
