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On the inside, I wanted to jump up and shout at her,A fake name? Of all the—
That was something I would do if I could get away with it. I simmered with outrage as I pretended to study her resumé, then looked up and smiled benignly. If there was one thing I’d learned how to do over the last year and a half, it was to hide my true feelings. I barely blinked as she stammered out a greeting and all but fell into the chair Alfred offered her.
“So, Violet, what makes you want to work for a publishing firm after spending so much time in marketing?”
She opened and shut her mouth a few times like a landed fish. After a few seconds, I could see it slowly dawning on her that I didn’t recognize her and that was when a deep, red tinge crept up from the collar of her shirt to her hairline. Good. A taste of her own medicine.
She was so flustered that Alfred repeated my question. She jumped in her chair and, to her credit, got herself under control, though her voice was pinched when she spoke. Yes, I’d really stung her pride. Revenge was certainly sweet, as small as this revenge was.
“I’ve always been passionate about publishing,” she said. “It’s always been the industry I wanted to end up in. I think your goals and the goals of a marketing firm aren’t so different. You’re both trying to convince people to buy something.”
“So you think my magazine solely exists to sell things?” I asked, actually slightly pissed. “Not to educate or entertain?”
Watching her swallow hard was quite satisfying, but when her tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip, I felt the same tugging down below as I did the night before. She still had the same effect on me.
“Absolutely not,” she said, leaning forward. She most likely did it out of anxiety, but the glimpse of creamy skin at the top of her blouse didn’t help ease my unwanted lust and put me in a worse mood. I motioned for her to keep explaining herself. “I loveNew York Style and Lifeand it’s both educated and entertained me.” She shrugged mildly, getting far too comfortable when I was bursting at the seams. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with selling things, though. Especially when advertising basically keeps companies and magazines afloat.”
Well, she definitely knew how to give an opinion. Was I even more turned on by that?
“Thank you, Ms. Shandy. Someone will let you know our final decision,” I said dismissively, watching her face fall when she knew she’d somehow blown it but not sure how.
It took all my willpower to tear my eyes away from her and not look up again until she was almost out the door. I only glanced up then because I had to get a glimpse of that juicy ass swaying. Damn it. Why did she have to be so sexy?
“Probably a bit too forward,” Alfred sighed. “Shall we get right to the next one?”
I shook my head. “Cancel the others. I’m hiring her.”
“Eli?” he asked, confused because anyone who knew me as well as he did would have thought I couldn’t stand her. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
I wanted to see her again. And I also needed more revenge.
Chapter 4 - Violet
Holy shit, what was that? Could fate really be that cruel? In a city of eight million people, how could my dream job end up being for the same man who was hitting on me just the night before? And that I blew off in a not-so-kind manner. I kicked at the sidewalk as I trudged back to my apartment, not wanting to waste my dwindling savings with an unnecessary cab fare. It turned out my instincts about him were right after all. Here I had thought a player like him wouldn’t remember my name, but it was so much worse.
He didn’t remember me at all.
How was that possible? He’d acted so interested, practically drooling down my dress, staring into my eyes with that soulful, intent look. All of it lies. Just ticking boxes to try and get in my pants. I was sure the jerk had a different woman every night, so it wasn’t personal, but I took it personally. How could he not remember me at all? Not even a glimmer of recognition, not a stutter or a blink to let me know he was just trying to save face. I was fuming as I passed my favorite deli, knowing that their turkey club sandwich and a slice of carrot cake would help ease my battered pride. I decided since I hadn’t taken a cab that I could afford it, and sat there trying to get my priorities straight, still more upset that Eli hadn’t recognized me than the fact I wasn’t getting that job.
I dug into the cake before taking a bite of the sandwich, and scrolled through my list of old work colleagues to see who I could ask for new leads. I could have another job in the marketing field by tomorrow if I wanted, but breaking into publishing was the reason I originally moved to New York. Three years was already a long time to put that dream on hold, but it was expensive here, and I did learn a lot. My bank account told me I could hold out a little longer, but anxiety gnawed at me every day I was unemployed.
The only thing remotely close to what I wanted was an entry level job at a daily newspaper that was rumored to be on its last legs. Taking a job that I was overqualified for and might not have in a few months anyway almost made me lose my appetite. Still, I grudgingly emailed over my resumé since I was running out of options.
My finger was still on my phone when it rang an unknown number. My heart seized up, hoping it was someone from one of the many interviews I’d been on in the last few weeks that hadn’t called yet.
“Ms. Shandy, this is Alfred, Mr. Crenshaw’s assistant.”
My tattered heart nearly stopped. “Yes, hello. How can I help you?” I didn’t even know what to pray for, my mind was so blank.
“Mr. Crenshaw would like to offer you the position as his executive assistant.”
“He would?” My voice came out as a disbelieving squeak.
“Are you still interested in the position?”
I cleared my throat and tried to sound less shocked. Not even an hour had passed. “Yes, absolutely.”
