King of Chaos
Gigi
I apply another layer of coverup over the dark purple bruise around my right eye, my hand shaking. “Good enough, you think?”
Erika squints, assessing the makeup. “It’ll have to be.”
I turn, without warning, hugging her.
She is the entire reason I made it out of my marriage alive and that we are safe now. We met at a support group for battered women, we didn’t even use our real names.
But we connected right away, our stories so similar. Married to handsome powerful men who ended up…
I turn back to the mirror, doing one last touch up on my eye.
Erika gave me and my daughter a place to stay when I left my ex, and she took us in again when he found me two weeks ago, and now she’s helping me find a job.
I’ve got an interview in an hour. The position would be a dream for so many reasons.
First because there are onsite apartments and daycare facilities within the New York high-rise that holds the New York corporate headquarters for Smith Brothers’ Real Estate.
Which is the second reason the position would be ideal. My ex, Vigo Sinclair, isn’t intimidated by many people, but I could tell by the way he spoke, even a year ago, that the Smiths have got him worried.
Anyone who can scare Vigo is all right in my book.
And both reasons make this job ideal. Which means I can’t mess this interview up.
“They’ve just opened the offices on the east coast, so they have loads of positions to fill,” Erika murmurs as she touches my shoulder. “You’re going to do fine, promise.”
She knows I’m nervous. And not just because I really need this job.
The name, degree, and even the social security number on my application are fake.
Erika’s brother is connected with some underworld identity thieves who got me the documents.
But I’ve got to start by just getting my name right when I talk to the hiring director.
I kept my first name, or some version of it. My family is Italian-American, and my mother named me Giulia, the Italian version of Julia, because she wanted to bring the old country into our family.
When I was a teen, I made my dad change it to Julia, because I wanted to sound more American. That’s the name that Vigo knows.
My dad let me do it, because he never called me Giulia anyway. It was always Gigi. He died right before I met Vigo.
That’s the name I picked for my new life. Gigi. I answer to it like I breathe, without thinking, which makes it a good choice.
For a last name, I chose…Hope. Corny? Maybe. I’m not woo-woo by nature, but I’m trying to send some message into the universe.
I need all the help I can get.
“Ready?” Erika asks.
I nod with a shaky breath. “Are you sure you’re all right to watch Em for me?”
“Of course,” she answers, squeezing my shoulder. “Just stay calm, remember to smile, and stick to the truth as much as possible.”
I want to hug her again, but I’ve creased my borrowed silk dress shirt enough. Instead, I check the tuck of the silk into my pencil skirt. “I owe you big time.”
“Please.” She squeezes again. “You’re the only person who has kept me from feeling completely alone. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Same.”
I smooth the skirt over my hips and then brush a stray blonde hair back into my bob.
I have naturally dark hair that I’ve always worn long.
But after what happened a couple of weeks ago with Vigo, new hair is part of the hiding-in-plain-sight plan. With a deep breath, I grab my legal notebook and stuff it in the bag with my laptop.
Leaving Erika’s corporate apartment, I hit the elevator button to head down to the lobby.
Erika is the administrative assistant for three of the lawyers on the legal team for Smith Brothers’ Real Estate.
She took a reduction in pay to be allowed a discounted rent in the building. If I don’t get the same offer, Erika already said we could stay with her. But I’d rather have my own place. Living with an almost four-year-old child is a lot to ask, and I don’t want to overuse her generosity.
But if I get the job, and the apartments are all filled, I’m just hoping that I can get a spot in the building’s daycare.
Not only would it be convenient, but I also see the teachers with the children, and they are wonderful. At three years old, it’s time for Emma to start spending time with other kids.
In general, it’s just time for us to build a real life, not like the one we were living.
The elevator opens, and I cross the massive lobby to the receptionist’s desk.
There are almost always three women stationed there, all looking polished and professional. I hear they are really well paid, but I would not want to be at the front desk like that. Too visible.
Keeping my shoulders straight, and head high, I move toward them. One sees me coming and returns my smile. “Hi,” I give a little wave. “Gigi Hope here for my one o’clock appointment with Ellen Masters.”
“Hi, Gigi,” she dips her chin. “I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.”
“Thank you.” I step to the side, letting out a long breath of air. Saying my new name out loud helped me clear out the jitters. I can do this.
The receptionist picks up the phone, speaking softly for a minute. “Ellen will see you now. Fifteenth floor, her assistant will greet you at the elevator doors.”
I nod before I cross the lobby once again, returning to the large bank of elevators that service the building.
The apartments are between the sixteenth and twenty-fourth floors. The twenty-fifth floor is the offices of the Smiths, and the twenty-sixth is the private residence of the CEO, Rushton Smith.
His name is only ever said in whispers.
I’ve never seen him, though I can confess to being a touch curious. Like I said, there aren’t many men who get the better of Vigo.
I press the pad for the elevators and step back, waiting for one of them to open. The doors just to my right slide apart and I move toward them, stepping inside and feeling more confident with each step. With another fortifying gulp of air, I choose the fifteenth floor.
“Hold the doors,” a male voice barks, making me jump. My hand automatically shoots out to obey, even as I turn to see who was speaking.
My jaw drops as I stare.
Striding toward me, his long, powerful legs eating the ground between us, is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
Dark hair waving back from his face, square jaw, broad shoulders, he is the picture of strong masculinity with the perfect touch of elegance.
I don’t even have to ask to know that this is one of the Smiths. If the Armani suit didn’t give it away, the words he’s barking into his cell phone most certainly do.
“The Jersey waterfront deal is the lifeblood of our New York holdings. What do you mean you didn’t make it to court on time?”
I would hate to be whoever is on the other end of that line. Being married to a man like Vigo, I’m used to hard men.
Which is why I have the sense to step back out of the elevator, while keeping my hand over the door so it stays open.
“Get the documents in the necessary hands today, or your fired.” He finishes, hanging up the phone. I blink back the trickle of fear that makes me want to hide.
I wanted a look at a Smith. I got one. And now it’s best to steer clear of the powerful and irritated man closing the distance between us.
His gaze catches mine and for a moment, I freeze.
It might be attraction, or maybe it’s just fear that zips down my spine. But either way, I lower my gaze, dipping my chin as he passes me by.
He stops just in front of me, my breath holding in my lungs. “Getting in?”
“I’ll take the next,” I answer, and drop my hand so as not to impede the elevator any longer.
This time, it’s his hand that covers the doors. “Get in. I insist.”
I ignore the tremor that slides through me, and on shaking limbs, I step in. He follows.
There are a lot of rules to living with powerful men.
Staying out of their way when they are in a mood is one, but obeying a direct command is another.
The door closes behind him. “What’s your name?” he asks as he moves to the back corner, while I hover by the panel with all the buttons. We still feel unnaturally close.
My tongue darts out to wet my dry lips. “Gigi Hope.”
He pockets his phone, leaning casually against the handrail. “What are you here for, Ms. Hope?”
“Interview,” I answer weakly. “Administrative assistant.”
“Qualifications?” His brow draws together as he looks me up and down. He doesn’t look like he’s happy with what he sees.
“I have a bachelor’s degree in history from Stanford University.”
He snorts and I stiffen. It’s the not the first time someone has intimated a history degree makes me qualified for nothing. “And two years of law school at the University of Chicago.”
I doctored my original transcripts to match my new name. If anyone digs, I’ll be in big trouble, but hopefully, no one does.
“Law school,” he repeats, sounding less judgmental. “Type?”
“Real estate.”
“Why didn’t you finish?”
I turn my head to the side, not sure how truthfully I want to answer. But I remember Erika’s advice. “My father died.”
He makes an indistinct rumble that I don’t know how to interpret as the doors finally open.
A brief glance up reveals that this is my floor.
A rush of relieved air leaves my lungs as I turn to step out, glad that the most painful elevator ride ever is finally over.
As promised, a woman stands by the doors, a wide smile on her face.
A smile that completely slips when she looks behind my shoulder. “Mister Smith.”
So, I was right.
He steps out next to me, with barely a nod, as he walks by us both and disappears down the hall to the left.
We both watch him go.
“It isn’t right for a man to be that handsome,” the other woman mumbles under her breath.
I drag my eyes away from the hall where he’s disappeared, back to her. “At least he balances the good looks with…” I was about to say a bad attitude. But I want to work here so, I change tact, “A serious work ethic.”
“He’s had three assistants in the last three months,” she whispers. “He’s a nightmare.”
That’s an even better way to put it.
She recovers herself. “I’m Madeline. Pleased to meet you.”
“Gigi,” I answer, shaking her hand.
“Come, Gigi, I will bring you back to meet Ellen—”
But Mr. Smith strides toward us again, an older woman trailing in his wake.
“Ellen,” Madeline bounces on the balls of her feet. “I was just about to bring Gigi back to meet you.”
Ellen has kind eyes. The sort that put me at ease even as Mr. Smith brushes past me as he says, “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Hope.”
“And you, Mr. Smith,” I answer with a demure nod. A lie. I can honestly say that I hope never to share a room with this man again.
Even our brief interaction has shaken the bit of confidence I’d gained in the lobby.
But I do my best to pull myself together and follow Ellen into her office.
The questions she asks during the interview are easy enough. Experience. Gaps in my resume, thinks like that. I answer them honestly.
I know, that in her eyes, I’m a risk. I had begun working at a law firm in an administrative role when I met Vigo and then got pregnant.
He promised me the world, and I was foolish enough to believe him.
My job now is to impress upon Ellen that I will never, ever be so stupid again.
“You’re divorced?” she asks with a frown.
“I am,” I answer honestly. Because I walked away with nothing, no child support, no alimony, I was able to move the proceedings at lightning-speed.
That didn’t stop Vigo from crashing into my apartment last week and giving me a black eye. Which is how I ended up back at Erika’s apartment, and at this job interview. “But I can assure you, that I am not interested in dating, and I will be committed to this job.”
She frowns, and I see her eyes flick to my eye, where I’ve tried to cover the dark bruise with concealer. “It’s going to take commitment, Ms. Hope, there is no doubt.”
My brow furrows as I attempt to puzzle out what she means.
She doesn’t keep me waiting long. “Mister Smith has requested that you take the position of his administrative assistant, beginning immediately.”
My mouth drops open as I stare. “Oh. But…”
Her lips press into a firm line. “If Mr. Smith has requested you, there is no other option. Unless you do not wish to work here.”
My shoulders drop. Working here is essential. “I very much wish to work here.”
“In that case, Ms. Hope, congratulations on becoming Rushton Smith’s newest assistant, and welcome to Smith Brothers’ Real Estate.”
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