Chapter 5
Adrian
Another dud. They keep sending me fucking duds.
I pace the length of my office, which is roughly the size of my first apartment.
Some people are comforted by coziness, but I require space.
My windows stretch floor-to-ceiling, overlooking the city in its late afternoon light.
My Italian leather loafers make almost no sound on the polished concrete.
The furniture is minimalist and excruciatingly uncomfortable.
Exactly how I like it.
It means people come here and then get the fuck out.
My eyes jump to a thin red folder sitting dead center on my desk, full of applications and resumes. Marissa left it before slithering out.
I’m tempted to pick it up and see who’s next, but I stop myself.
The last three interviews have been useless.
I told Beck as much, but he’s on a fair-hiring crusade and insists that every candidate gets a fair shot.
It’s the most ridiculous strategy I’ve ever heard, and considering the last candidate didn’t even know how to operate Microsoft Office, I don’t think this approach is working.
I check my watch and it’s 4:05.
“This one can’t even show up on time,” I mutter under my breath. I hate lateness even more than I hate incompetence.
Two minutes later, there’s a subtle knock. The door opens two inches and a woman’s face appears, eyes wide as she takes in all six-foot-five of me. I tend to evoke that kind of reaction, especially from women.
“Ms. Williams?” I cock a brow and ask.
“Yes, sorry,” she says quickly, stepping in and clutching a slim manila envelope against her chest. “Maddy Williams. I hope I’m not—”
“Late?” I finish for her, gesturing at the clock on the wall. “Well, you are.”
She glances, lips pressed into a line. She breathes out, her brown hair bouncing slightly against her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I got turned around at reception,” she says, her voice quivering just a little. “The building directory isn’t very helpful.”
And I hate that I agree with her.
“Noted.” I motion to the chair. She sits, careful to keep her black skirt from hiking up.
I move behind my desk, pull out the paper with her name at the top, give it a quick once-over, and then lower myself into my chair.
“I’ll be direct. Your resume is mediocre.
” And it is. That’s the truth. She’s twenty-five with a bachelor’s degree in marketing, and not a single job that’s given her any kind of decent experience.
She blinks, suddenly looking confused. “I… well, thank you for the feedback.”
I nod, for some reason enjoying the way she shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Can you tell me anything about this position?”
I watch the gears turn in her head.
She inhales, smooths her hair behind one ear, and then meets my eyes, “I noticed how many times this job has been posted over the last three years. I assume there’s a high turnover rate for the position. Maybe that’s why you accepted my mediocre resume.”
Well fuck. I was expecting a nervous ramble about how being detail oriented is important. Not this.
Maddy blinks again, then looks back at me. “This means you’re either very hard to work for, or everyone who gets the job thinks it’ll look good on their LinkedIn and then immediately burns out.” She raises her shoulders, feigning casualness. “Or both?”
I could fucking kiss her for the transparency, and that thought has me internally reeling as my mind considers what those plump lips would feel like against mine.
But instead, I slide the job requirements across the desk. “Why should I believe you’d do better than the others who have taken this job?”
She takes it, skims the printout, but I can tell she’s not reading it.
She’s thinking. And I like that.
After a few moments, she drops it to her lap. “To be honest, I don’t have a perfect track record. But I do learn fast. And I don’t scare easily.” She glances up, meets my eyes. “Though maybe I should.”
Once again, not what I expected. I lean forward, fixated on her wide eyes. “And why is that?”
She doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Because you’re clearly the kind of boss who’s never satisfied.”
Who the hell coached her on this?
I keep pushing. “You’re not wrong. Most people want to be liked. I want things done correctly. I don’t give a shit if you like me or not.”
She crosses her legs, and I can’t help but notice her toned, tanned legs. “May I ask what happened to the last assistant?”
I take a moment to answer, my eyes running up the rest of her body and landing on her red lips that match her blouse.
When I meet her eyes, her gaze is steady.
My cock twitches. Fuck.
I clear my throat and ignore my body’s reaction to her. “The last assistant quit after a week with a very dramatic email. She sent it to everyone here at the firm.”
I can tell she’s holding back a laugh. “And the one before that?”
“Lasted six weeks. I hear she’s a yoga instructor these days.”
“So, resilience is the number one qualification you’re looking for.” She folds her hands in her lap, mirroring my posture.
“Resilience. And accuracy,” I continue the thought. “Most people are incapable of both.” I watch her for any sign of intimidation, but she only nods.
I pick up her resume, and scan through it again. “You were at your last company for three years. Why aren’t you still there?”
She doesn’t flinch. “Downsized. Office politics.” She says it like she’s telling me about a dead houseplant—something you can’t get sentimental about.
“Yet your references are impeccable.” I tap a finger on the page. “Would any of them lie for you?”
“They might. But not very convincingly.”
I let the resume drop to the desk. “Here’s the deal. You’re overqualified for the secretary part, but underqualified for the people part. What makes you think you can handle the politics here if you couldn’t at the firm you were just at?”
“I don’t know,” she says, surprising me with the admission. “But I’m willing to find out. Unless you want to keep interviewing and making bad hires. It looks like you’re just as desperate as I am, honestly.”
I’m instantly pissed at the jab. But also… damn, she’s good.
I stand and walk to the window. I try to imagine her outlasting the meat grinder that chews through most hires here. She has a hungry look about her, but not a desperate doormat vibe.
Still, I could be wrong.
When I turn back, she’s watching me. Her posture is perfect. Her eyes are so blue they almost look translucent, and I suddenly can’t imagine not seeing them again.
Fuck it.
I clear my throat. “Can you start Monday?”
She stares at me, surprise settling into her features. “Yes.”
I nod. “Great. I’ll have HR email you a packet to complete over the weekend. Welcome to Modern Edge.”
“Thank you.” She stands and as she offers her hand, I see the relief on her face.
I take her hand, which is warm and soft against mine. I have to force myself to let it go.
“See you Monday,” she says, gives me a quick smile, and leaves the room.
I wait until the door shuts, then sit down and stare at the folder. Her floral scent hangs in the air.
The intercom pops, breaking my moment of reflection. “Beck’s on his way,” Marissa comes across the speaker.
I push the button. “Thanks.”
The door swings open immediately, no knock. Beck fills the doorframe, broad-shouldered, sleeves rolled up, an easy smile that I’ll never be able to achieve. He’s the most happy-go-lucky asshole I’ve ever met. And my best friend and business partner.
“Dude,” he grins, “I heard you just hired someone.” He saunters to the couch, drops into it like it’s a hammock.
“Word gets around fast,” I deadpan.
He picks up the resume sitting on my desk, his expression difficult to read as he pours over it. “Maddy Williams. She’s a little green for the big leagues, isn’t she?” He peers back up at me.
“She’s got bite. You know I like that.”
He nods and then sets the paper back down. “So are you going to tell her about the three-month curse, or just let her figure it out?”
“She’ll figure it out.” I say with a shrug. “And if it happens to her, well… whatever.”
Beck grins, throws one ankle over his knee. “Wow, sometimes I forget how fucking brutal you are. It’s amazing how high your expectations are.”
“If they can’t handle pressure, they don’t belong here.”
He snorts. “You sound like my high school football coach. Except you’re scarier, twice as big, and you don’t give a shit about teamwork.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I care about results. That’s all that matters.”
He cocks his head and studies me, his green eyes lingering on mine. “You sure this isn’t about finding someone who reminds you of yourself? Because I think you see an executive assistant as a mini-me or something.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous.” I tap Maddy’s resume. “But she is interesting.”
He leans over and looks at the paper again. “Bet you five grand Maddy Williams doesn’t make it to her first performance review,” Beck says, eyes gleaming.
I narrow my gaze at him. “You seem extra confident.”
He sobers for a second and gives me a funny look. “Shit, I’m always confident.”
I shake my head, amused. “Fair enough.”
“Just…” Beck glances back at the paper for the third time. “Maybe just try not ruin her self-esteem entirely?”
I frown. “I don’t ruin self-esteems.” He gives me a look, and I sigh. “Okay, yeah. Fine. I’ll try not to traumatize her.”
“Good, but…” He leans forward, hands laced. “Seriously, what’s your read on her?”
I pause before I speak because I want to answer with words that won’t sound like a fucking HR violation. “She seems smart and she’s not afraid to push back. She wants something. I haven’t figured out what yet, but I like it—even if it’s just a paycheck.”
Beck nods, then smirks. “Huh, seems different than the last one.”
“The last one was a pathological liar,” I remind him.
“That’s a honed skill in our line of work.” He winks.
I grab the resume and tuck it back into the folder.
He stands, stretches, and heads for the door. “Let me know if you want to get drinks later.”
The door swings closed behind him, and I lean back in my chair, my eyes drifting to the window. Somewhere out there, Maddy Williams is probably freaking out right now about getting this job.
Which is fucking perfect. That’s exactly where I want her.