AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"You wish," she says finally, and I watch her playing with her fingers again.
I study her face. She looks different today, older and more professional. I guess it's because she's wearing a suit. I look down at the chair she's sitting in, and I notice that her skirt is riding up, and I see her bare thigh through the slit that’s almost inappropriate. I bite down on my lip. I remember being between those thighs. My eyes go up to her face again and I notice that one of her buttons is coming undone on her shirt. I wonder if she's done that on purpose to remind me of when I ripped the buttons off in the elevator or when I took her in the hotel room.
"Are you trying to seduce me?" I ask her, raising a single eyebrow. Was this her game to try to get my story by getting into my pants again?
"Are you trying to make me puke?" she says in answer, shaking her head like what I've suggested is crazy, like I haven't made her come multiple times.
"So, why do you want this job, Zara?" I ask her, leaning back in my chair. I’m curious to hear what she says. What reasoning is she going to come up with to want to go from being a journalist to being an executive assistant?
"I don't want to work with you." Her chin tilts up, and there's defiance in her eyes. "It would be an absolute nightmare to work with you. I don't want this job anymore."
"Liar!" I stand up and walk around the table over to her. She stands up as well and glares at me. I can feel fire sparking from her eyes, and all I want to do is kiss her.
"How badly do you want me right now?" I say, looking at the vein that's pulsing in her throat. I move closer to her face and see that she's blushing. "How badly do you want me to lock that door right now and fuck you?" I whisper in her ear, and her face grows bright red.
"You are…" She swallows hard and presses her hand against my shoulder. I'm not sure if she's going to push me back or bring me in to kiss her, but we're both startled by a loud banging outside and shouting.
"What is going on?" I say, stepping back and heading toward the door.
"What the hell, Kim?" I say as I open the door and see two kids running up and down, throwing paper all over the place while screaming and shouting.
"Whose kids are these?" I shake my head. Someone is about to get fired. Zara lets out an exasperated strangled sound from behind me and runs out the door, pushing past me.
"Luke, Charlotte," she calls out to the kids and they both stop and look up at her, guilty expressions on their faces. I am shocked. Of all the things I had expected, this was not one of them. Zara is a mom? Zara has two kids? How could she not have told me this? How could I not have known? And how could she have been so irresponsible to bring her kids to an interview, unless that’s just her way of trying to get into the office? Maybe she’s so determined to get this interview with me, so determined to find out my business, that she doesn't care about using her kids. Maybe this is some way to guilt me into hiring her.
Zara grasps their hands and whispers something to them that I can't hear.
"Hey," I say, feeling angry. "Ms. Hathaway, can I have your attention?" She looks up at me with a startled expression, and for a moment, I feel sorry for her. She looks overwhelmed, but I steel myself to ignore my feelings of compassion. She's the one who’s trying to use me. She's the one that wants to make her journalist career flourish based on my and my family's story, and that's not going to happen.
She isn't as smart as she thinks; if she thought she could come to an interview, I'd hire her and then give her access to everything about me. Does she think just because I think she’s hot and want to bang her again, that I will let my guard down? Most probably. I noticed in the past that women seem to think that their sex appeal could win me over. They didn’t know that sex won’t make me do anything.
“Yes?” she snaps as if she’s the aggrieved one.
"Ms. Hathaway, there's one thing I have to tell you." I clear my throat and lean back against the doorway.
"Yes," she says, in a resigned tone, gripping her kids' hands.
"You are not hired. This job is not yours." I smile at her. "You can leave now. Unfortunately, for you, getting my story is not going to be that easy." Before she can answer, I head back into the conference room and slam the door shut. I know I need to walk away from her before she bats her long lashes at me and reminds me that my heart isn’t entirely made of ice.
15
Zara
Dear Sandra,
I need you to get me into the witness protection program.
Now.
Do not pass go.
Do not collect $200.
Contact the FBI and get me on a plane out of JFK within the hour.
Please.
PLEASE!
