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“I’m told you work in Payroll.” I come around the front of my desk, taking a seat on the edge and folding my arms across my chest.

She hasn’t taken a single step closer, keeping a careful distance of ten, maybe twelve feet between us. Either she’s quietly intimidated by me or she’s got a thing for personal space. If it’s the latter, we already share something in common.

“I do,” she says. “Going on three years next month.”

“And you love your job?” I ask.

Without pause, Sophie answers, “Of course.”

I don’t buy it.

Her brows meet. She’s confused. Understandably so.

“Tell me, Ms. Bristol, what are your long-term goals here at Westcott Corporation? Where do you see yourself in five years? Ten?” My attention shifts to her glossy pale waves and the glistening lips that deliver her words on a breathy velvet cloud.

She’s a walking, talking juxtaposition of vulnerability and confidence.

An enigma.

I’m too distracted by the way she carries herself to listen to the words coming out of her mouth. Besides, her answers don’t matter. I’ve already chosen her. Once my mind is set, there’s no changing it.

Sophie is in the middle of waxing on how long it took her just to get an interview here when I lift a palm to silence her.

“Thank you for that information, Ms. Bristol,” I say. “I’ve heard enough.”

She half-squints before righting her posture.

“I’m going to cut to the chase,” I say, drinking in her Coke-bottle figure. The subtle nip at her waist, the elegant way her heels lift her calf muscles, the shiny, flawless set of teeth I’ve yet to see overtaken with a full smile, the regal posture—either she’s pedigreed and hailing from a respectable family or incredibly self-assured and disciplined.

Either way, I’ll take her—she’s perfect for what I need.

“I’m relieving you from your current position,” I say, the way I’ve said to countless souls who’ve stood in her very position. I never apologize. I never break eye contact. I never sugarcoat.

The only difference now is I’m about to dump the opportunity of a lifetime into her lap, and she hasn’t the slightest.

I resist a smirk.

A sharp intake of breath passes between her open lips, but her expression is impossible to read. Her eyes—a steely Atlantic blue—don’t show a hint of emotion. Still as a statue, she lingers. Or maybe she’s hardening herself. This is a girl in complete control of her emotions. So much more than a pretty face and a marathon-sex worthy body.

“May I ask why?” she finally speaks, voice unbroken.

“Because I have another job for you. One I believe will suit you better,” I say. “Not to mention the pay and benefits will beat anything you could ever make on your current track.”

She winces. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Are you firing me or promoting me?”

“Both.”

I reach for the stack of papers on Westcott Legal Department letterhead and slide them toward her, along with a pen. “Before I get into the details of this new position, I’m going to need you to sign this NDA. It’s a standard, boilerplate contract. I just need to know that the offer I’m about to make you won’t be shared outside this room, beyond the two of us.”

Her inquiring gaze dances over the fine print, and a moment later, she reaches for the pen —albeit reluctantly, makes a few elegant loops, and signs on the line.

“This would be a personal position,” I say. “You’d work for me. With me. And only me.”

“Like a personal assistant?”

“No. I have five of those already.” I roll my eyes, realizing how fucking ridiculous this proposition is going to sound. The words haven’t so much as left my mouth and already I’m cringing on the inside. “Before I elaborate, I’d like you to know that I’ve had my personal attorney dig up your file, and I have to say I’m impressed with your background. Four years at Princeton. Dual degrees in international business and accounting. President of three collegiate clubs. Founder of two charities. Fluent in multiple languages. A laundry list of remarkable references … All of this by the age of twenty-seven? I have to ask: why are you wasting your time working in payroll here?”

“As I said earlier, Mr. Westcott, it was quite difficult to get an interview at your company and, when I finally did—I took what I could get. I’ve actually received two promotions since I’ve been here. From what I understand, the opportunity to move up is worth the wait.”

It’s true. It’s a steep climb but the view is incredible. Many will try. Few will reach the pinnacle of Westcott success. That’s the secret to maintaining a ball-busting team that comprises the core of my company.

“There are a few blanks I need to fill in—mostly concerning your familial history—but given your extraordinary background, your work ethic and loyalty, I’m confident I’ve made the right decision, and I believe you’ll be much happier in this new position.”

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