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Seating herself opposite him, Desirae couldn't help but notice the way his eyes fixated on her legs as the knee length skirt crept up her thighs, and she tugged at a hemline that had never bothered her in the past. Damn the man for making her feel like this.
Shaking herself, Desirae got straight down to business. "Your CV is quite impressive, Mr. Oliver."
"Yes, indeedy," the man replied arrogantly, still not taking his eyes off her legs.
Desirae pursed her lips in irritation. "In fact, if anything, you seem somewhat overqualified for this post."
"I'm just happy to help old J.W. out." She found the way Eric casually dropped her CEO's initials to be inappropriately over familiar as his eyes finally crept up but didn't make it past her chest, and Desirae felt her temper rising.
"But would you be satisfied in a position that leaves your credentials so underutilised, never mind that the pay grade for this position is quite a way below what you're used to?"
In fact, according to Charlotte's memo, Eric was a complete slacker who routinely forced his subordinates to bear responsibilities way beyond their proficiency and then abandoned them to shoulder the blame when things inevitably went wrong.
"I'm sure Johnny boy and I can come to some agreement over the pay." Eric slouched backwards with his arms over the back of the office sofa and crossed his legs at the ankles nonchalantly, as if he'd just popped in to shoot the breeze. "And I'll probably be a godsend to Universal, especially when a woman of your age holds the CFO position…whose biological clock must be ticking," he finished smugly, finally raising his eyes to her face.
Desirae bristled, her eyes shooting daggers and her façade stony. "I can assure you that that scenario is highly unlikely," she said icily as she rose from her seat to conclude this farce of an interview. Throughout the entire meeting, Eric had evaded questions about his involvement in his father's company, avoided enquiries about the true level of his responsibilities and blatantly found a scapegoat for a couple of serious instances that she brought up where the buck clearly should have stopped with him. The man obviously had no respect for women who held positions of authority, like herself, and had spent so much time mentally undressing her that Desirae didn't think she had ever felt so blatantly objectified, even during those times she'd spent bound and naked at Club Risqué! Thankfully, he hadn't appeared to have recognised her. For that, at least, she was eternally grateful.
Eric just smirked, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he sauntered to the door behind her. Desirae turned and held the door open for him to leave, only to find him ogling her backside and rubbing at his semi hard cock through the fabric.
Fighting the urge to gag, she called for Laurel to see him out with a breath of relief.
"I look forward to working with you." Eric saluted her cleavage cockily with two fingers before turning and focussing his attention on Laurel's rear.
"Over my dead body!" Desirae couldn't help muttering under her breath as she stormed back into her office and closed the door with as much of a resounding thud as the soft seal hinges could achieve.
She was still fuming, twenty minutes later, as she collected her belongings, ready to leave. With her long, wool coat on and her handbag over her shoulder, she was about to shred the documents she had obtained from Charlotte when John Williams, himself, came in unannounced, followed by a tall, well-built man in his early to mid-thirties.
"Desirae, I'd like you to meet Connor Griffin." The vast, bear of a man stepped forward, and as he engulfed her palm in a firm handshake, she took in his sharply cut, sandy hair and expensive suit and wondered if this was Laurel's 'huge hunk of eye candy'.
John didn't offer any further insight on the good-looking visitor before peering myopically down the corridor. "Is Eric Oliver still in the building?" he asked. "If he's still about, why don't you ask him when he can start? We need that position filling asap."
Desirae stilled and looked steadily at her CEO. He wasn't exactly her boss. Their positions within the firm were close to equal, but it had always been quietly accepted that his was the last word, and when it came to board room disputes, his was the casting vote.
"I'm not planning on offering him the job," she said carefully, schooling her features into a neutral mask. "In fact, I've already instructed Laurel to draw up contracts for one of the other candidates. I believe Luanna Morgan has already accepted the position."
"Are you sure you haven't had a lapse in judgement there, Desirae?" the older man blustered, and Desirae instinctively clenched her jaw and straightened her spine at that abhorrent suggestion which had ice snaking through her veins even while fire sparked in her eyes.
"Eric is without question the perfect candidate for the job. I golf with his father, so I can personally vouch for his credentials. I insist that you reconsider!"
Desirae's stomach plummeted and heat prickled at the back of her neck as her simmering fury came close to erupting at having her judgement questioned, in front of an outsider, no less. It had been a long, shitty day. She had already put in several twelve-hour days this week; she was already trying to avoid second guessing herself and stressing too hard about the Blackwood takeover and all its emotional implications, and she wasn't accustomed to having her decisions all but overruled. Gritting her teeth so hard she was surprised she didn't crack a molar, Desirae took a controlled breath while her manner became positively glacial. She hadn't risen to the height of her career by being a wallflower, and as much as she respected John Williams and his wealth of experience, she would never be cowed into making catastrophic amendments on somebody else's whim. Not even the CEO's.
"If you feel strongly enough that you need to overrule my judgement, John, then feel free to go ahead and offer Mr. Oliver my position while you're at it, because I'm afraid that I take exception to working with a man who couldn't even keep his eyes above my neckline for the duration of a forty-minute interview."
Desirae's arctic expression gave no quarter and her usually well-modulated voice was clipped and stilted. "Before you make that decision, however, I suggest you read Mr. Oliver's background check. Be sure to pay special attention to the fact that your 'perfect candidate' installed his mistress as his PA in his father's business and permitted her free access to very important information that allowed her to embezzle such a vast amount that the company hit the verge of bankruptcy and only saved face from imminent bankruptcy by appealing to another 'family friend', namely Joseph Blackwood, for a buyout." John's eyes were wide and his face had drained of colour and Desirae couldn't help the tiny, uncharacteristic stab of satisfaction that accompanied his dawning horror.
"Add to that a marriage with no pre-nup, which cost him dearly, followed by a second failed marriage which, while covered by a pre-nup, had produced several children so that the courts ruled a substantial maintenance allowance, since the breakdown was due to the afore mentioned mistress, and you will find that Mr. Oliver has managed to squander almost his entire personal wealth by making catastrophic financial decisions in his personal life, as well as his father's business."
Desirae slapped the sheaf of papers she had printed from Charlotte's email into John's hand, then turned to pick up her briefcase. "It's a pity your 'golfing buddy' didn't see fit to warn you that his son's not even capable of balancing his checking account, far less a corporation!" Desirae couldn't keep the derision out of her voice as she made to leave.
"Oh, and one other thing," she swung back as an afterthought. "I happen to know that Joel and Jake Blackwood shared a house with Eric Oliver while they were at University together. While I would have expected them to send someone with rather more competence, I really wouldn't rule out that Eric Oliver might very well be on their payroll. As you have just attested, the jolly old boys network has deep roots and the timing is rather more than questionable," she contended frostily. "Breaking us down from the inside would make their takeover very much easier…and who knows, maybe someone with less morals than a crooked politician in a crack house is exactly the kind man you need for that type of deception," she spat contemptuously.
In fact, that scenario had only just occurred to her, but the more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. She shook her head, unwilling to spend any more time on the matter. She felt vilified by John's lack of faith, and on the heels of her confrontation with Eric and the painful memories of Joel that he and the takeover announcement had stirred, it had bought old insecurities to the surface. Right now, she was so done with it all that she couldn't muster the enthusiasm for any further dispute. She'd walk away if she had to, rather than put her dignity on the line ever again.
"I'll see you on Monday, unless you let me know otherwise," she challenged, ignoring the fish impression the CEO was imitating with his silently open and closing mouth.
With a last glance and a polite nod to Connor Griffin, who appeared to be struggling to keep a straight face, she turned on her heel and left. Desirae wondered briefly if he was laughing at her outburst, but she really couldn't be bothered to worry about it. There was a very large glass of wine with her name on it screaming to her, and right now, all she was interested in was claiming it.
Chapter Three
