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“Let’s begin,” he said, unbuttoning his blazer before taking a seat.
The redhead began by putting on her glasses.
“Good morning, I’m Clair Sullivan, Chief of Human Resources. On the other end of the table is Susana Anderson, our Housekeeping Manager. On my right is CEO and Parker Villas owner, Matthew Parker.”
Fucking hell. Not only was this man the owner, but he was my brother’s ex-best friend. The number one man on this planet who hated Ryan St. James because he had embezzled millions of dollars from his business.
And I had just disrespected him in a hundred different ways since we met in the elevator. Shit. I told him his hotel sucked!
He smiled after Clair had introduced everyone and lifted a palm in the air in greeting. His eyes scanned the line, and when his cold gaze landed on me, my stomach dropped, and I swallowed hard.
He rested his elbows on the table and placed his chin atop his clasped hands as he eyed every employee in the line. My palms started to sweat when his lips stretched into a wicked, mischievous smile.
“You’re here,” Clair started. “Because amongst the two-hundred-thirty people who submitted their applications, you stood out from the rest. Unfortunately, there are only ten vacancies for the housekeeping department, as I said in the email.”
I tried listening to Clair’s speech, but I could feel Matthew’s eyes on me like a laser slicing my skin. I licked my lips, which, thankfully, hadn’t gotten chapped from the heat. The heat wasn’t even a problem right now because I was about to break into a cold sweat at the fact that I had embarrassed my boss by saying that he should have a fucking fountain in his lobby.
“How about we start alphabetically—”
“No,” Matthew cut in, his eyes still glued on me. Could the universe just eat me up alive right here, right now? “I want to start with you. In the pink dress.” He untangled his fingers and leaned back on the cozy-looking chair, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Please step forward.” Matthew’s voice echoed in the empty hall, and the loudness sent a shiver down my spine. But I managed to still gracefully step forward, thankful that my years of ballet and piano recital helped develop my confidence in front of a crowd. “What’s your name?”
Fuck. Goodbye, Parker Villas. You were a great, short-lived opportunity.
“Reagan St. James,” I answered, and I felt like I was under a spotlight, interrogated in front of an audience.
I heard a soft murmur behind me from people who knew my last name. Clair and Susana’s face remained unfazed. But Matthew’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and the amusement in his expression evaporated as his now-angry eyes narrowed at me.
The ginger searched for my folder in the pile, and once she found it, she handed it to Matthew, who gladly took it and opened it.
“A degree in music,” he announced, not looking up from the document in front of him. “Juilliard. Interesting. Hosted countless charity galas. Can work under pressure. Good attention to detail, resourceful, and creative. Good leadership qualities, good communication—”
He was shaking his head when he got to the last part. Then he abruptly gave Clair a look, probably wondering why I was considered for a job as a hotel housekeeper when my résumé didn’t fit the qualifications. The woman only shrugged, smiling at him.
“Tell me, Ms. St. James,” Matthew began, massaging the bridge of his nose. God, he was going to embarrass me before he’d break the news that I wasn’t going to be hired. “How important is time to you?”
“Well,” I stammered. “Time to me is valuable. It’s a crucial part of productivity and efficiency in both my personal and professional life—”
“Do you think showing up to this interview almost thirty minutes late shows you value the time of others?”
“Well, I have an explanation for that, sir.” Sir? Mr. Parker? God, I didn’t know what to do. But I coached myself to be graceful, nonetheless. Have poise, Reagan.
“Please, share it with the room, Jellybean.” Huh? Jellybean? When my forehead scrunched, he raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get the reference?”
“No, sir.”
“Do look it up later tonight. You know, research. Something you should’ve done before you applied for this job. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have talked so bluntly with people in the elevator.”
Clair was enjoying my discomfort, and Susana was so disinterested that she was now yawning, probably tired of the little show Matthew was putting on.
“So please, share with the room your explanation.”
I swallowed, laughing nervously because my explanation was as pathic as this entire thing. Me? I applied for a housekeeping position when I didn’t even know how to do laundry two months ago.
Fuck it! I was going down. This application had been far-fetched anyway. I might as well go down gracefully.
“I didn’t know how to commute here.” It was the truth. I didn’t know how to fight my way onto a bus, and I’d probably would have gotten lost navigating this hotel itself if it weren’t for Apple Maps.
