Chapter 2
Chapter Two
J ack knocked once and opened the door. Sure enough, it was a fish tank just like I expected. Except that these windows were lightly tinted where everything else in the building made sure to leave people off-balance with the clarity.
It was like a dimmer switch had been activated. Well, until I got to the edge of the carpet, and then there was nothing but air.
The floor was made out of glass.
“Holy crap.”
“Yeah, it takes some getting used to,” Jack said with a grin. “Good luck.”
I glanced over my shoulder. His lowered voice incited a flood of anxiety in my belly. He was just a man. I’d been around powerful men all my life. Okay, they were usually wearing wrinkled linen shorts on a golf course or boat, but I still knew how to handle myself.
I straightened my shoulders and stepped onto the glass floor. It made me feel weightless and even a little dizzy as the panoramic Boston Harbor opened under and around me. What kind of man needed to be this on display?
Silly, Grace. He’s not on display—he likes to watch.
He’s hidden away like a coward.
Speaking of coward…where the heck was he? I turned around. The entire room was glass. I could see the whole office from this vantage point.
Yeah, he definitely liked to watch.
Was he watching from some secret room right now?
Trying to figure me out?
I lifted my chin. Well, let him watch. I didn’t have anything to hide. Okay, except that I lied to get in here, but that was just semantics. All I needed was five minutes with him, and then I could figure out how to handle the situation.
Surely, he’d be reasonable.
What if he wasn’t?
Shut up, Negative Nancy. I shook my head. I couldn’t think that way. Not and keep my world together. Because I couldn’t lose that house. I was willing to do anything to keep it. Even stand here and beg a stranger.
The little voice that kept trying to pipe up finally shut up when a door opened out of the seamless glass. My jaw dropped. Had we been transported to a spaceship between the time Mr. Hollister had shown me in and now?
My teeth snapped together. A very tall man walked in, and I knew he wasn’t expecting me. He had the stem of a pair of glasses between his teeth and he was buttoning the cuff of a crisp white dress shirt.
Was that ink swirling up his arm?
He cleared his throat, and the flash of deep sepia tones were gone. My gaze shot to his face, and I had to swallow. He was deeply tanned and sharp-featured. Young. Surprisingly young.
He took the stem out of his mouth. “I was unaware I had another appointment.”
His deep voice was commanding and clipped. I managed to get my tongue and lips to work. “Last minute addition.”
His dark brow rose as he slid the glasses on his face. They instantly changed his features into something more serious and somehow older. His hazel eyes were startling behind the lenses. There was no polite interest there. Actually, there was nothing there.
Not displeasure.
Not humor.
Not even a drop of friendliness.
How the hell was I going to approach him?
“Let’s hope you’re more competent than the last eleven applicants I’ve seen this afternoon.”
My breath stalled. That wasn’t good.
He moved to the large glass and chrome desk by the window. He flipped through papers in a file. “Which agency are you from?”
“No agency.”
His gaze flickered. “Oh?”
I wanted to clear my throat so badly, but I didn’t want to show any sign of weakness. He needed to see me as an equal. All my plans to make him see reason slid away. I wasn’t exactly sure he’d give a fuzzy puppy a chance, let alone a woman playing the needy card.
I wasn’t needy.
But I wasn’t exactly sure he’d see it that way.
I licked my lips and played up my confidence. It was just like selling to a very rich, very entitled asshole. Now I was going to lie for all that I was worth.
God help me.
I crossed to him and held out my hand. “Grace Copeland.”
Just before he took my hand, he frowned. “Copeland?”
“Yes.” His hand was firm, dry, and huge. The man was big everywhere. I was petite, but I was wearing four-inch heels, and he towered over me.
You can do this.
His brow smoothed. “Your name is not on the list.”
“You need an assistant, don’t you?” Before he could open his mouth, I released his hand and sat down in the dove-gray chair across from his desk. I folded my hands in my lap to hide the tremble. I was just going to have to wing it.
He was a man who liked his power, if his office was any indication. I tipped up my chin to meet his gaze, making sure to be slightly submissive. We were not equals, as far as he was concerned. “If your lobby is any indication, then you need more than that.”
Forgive me, George.
He sat behind his desk. “Oh, really?”
“Your lobby is stark and unapproachable. Your desk security needs training.”
“Obviously, since he let you upstairs without an appointment.”
“Don’t blame George.”
“George?”
“That’s his name. George. Your seventy-ish-year-old security guard of one of the most security-conscious glass companies of our age.”
His fingers drummed against the glass before he sat back and steepled them together. “I know who my security guard is, Ms. Copeland. I want to know why you do.”
“Because I talked him through the login of his iPad.”
He tapped his two forefingers together. “You weren’t on the list. And still, you’re sitting in my office. Why shouldn’t I call said security and have you escorted out?”
“Because you need me.” I leaned back in my chair, mirroring his stance. Well, except for the fingers thing. Only hot guys with long fingers could pull off that look without looking like Smithers from The Simpsons .
“Is that right?”
“Is it your standard practice to have your reception area manned by Mr. Hollister—who is probably one of your top executives,” I prompted.
He touched his lips with the side of his fingers. “CEO.”
“Exactly. Your CEO is not supposed to be fielding your assistants for an interview. In fact, your CEO’s assistant should probably be handling that.”
He dropped his hands to grip the arms of his chair. His fingers were distracting. “And what qualifications do you have? Since you aren’t with an agency, do you have a résumé?” He inclined his head. “You seem to be a stickler for the rules, and yet you’re breaking every single one.”
My heart slammed against my sternum. I tried to pull any details I could remember about Blake Carson out of my head. Brilliant. Runaway success with his glass innovation. Took Boston by storm. That was about it. I was more of a sea town girl. I liked my little corner of the world. I was close enough to Boston to get culture when I wanted it, but for the most part, I just wanted to be in my workshop.
His face remained impassive, but those golden hazel eyes were finally firing. The indifference had fallen away, and I knew that I had one chance to impress him. He was new money. He was still proving himself.
Probably would be until he was fifty in this city.
“I’ll leave you alone to be brilliant. You will run this place like the billion-dollar company I know it is. I’m organized, personable where you obviously are not, and can read a person within five minutes of meeting them.”
“So, your interview technique is to insult me?”
I swallowed, and though I was pretty sure it was audible, I lifted my chin. “Yes. Because obviously, you’re a bear. Or you’d have an assistant sitting out there right now. And you wouldn’t have papers scattered on what is usually a pristine desk. Am I close?”
He stood, and I prayed the jackrabbit who had taken up residence in my chest couldn’t be heard. He walked around the desk and sat on the edge in front of me. He peered down at me, and I suddenly wished for his impassive eyes again.
Being scrutinized was not my favorite thing. I’d never acted like a typical rich kid. Evidently, that was a good thing since I wasn’t anymore.
He glanced at my hands, and I curled them into my palms. Chipped nail polish and burn scars did not say office manager. I was more comfortable with my iron frames and blow torches than I was a computer, but I could use one—and use it well.
I’d only killed a few keyboards over the years. Not the whole computer or anything.
“And why do you want to fix me?”
I opened my mouth. He really hadn’t asked me that, had he? “Excuse me?”
“If I’m such a bear, as you’ve said, why would you want to come in here and fix my office?”
Right. Office.
Not him.
I thought of all the old panes of glass I worked with, the renovations I’d specialized in, the salvaged glass that I used to make my stained-glass windows. “Because it’s what I do. I fix the ugly and make it beautiful. In this case…the world around you so you can do what you love.”
He stood, and I had to fight to keep still. He was way too close. Close enough that I could smell mint and citrus with a hint of spice. And when the silk blend of his pants whispered across the side of my hand, I closed my eyes.
What the hell was I doing?
He walked to the door and opened it.
Obviously, he was showing me the door. Of course he was. I was insane to think I could waltz in here to talk to him, let alone con my way into a job. And for what? A chance to show him I was worthy of my grandmother’s house?
If I sold my entire inventory of glass, I might be able to make six months of payments on a mortgage. If I was lucky. Maybe I should just come clean and ask him.
I scrubbed my palms down my thighs and stood. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Carson.” I had to pass him to get out the door. My skin prickled and nerves jittered the closer I got to him.
Everything about my trip into Boston had been a bad idea. This was just the topper. Having him near me was like playing with my patina mix on copper—too volatile and leaving me a moment away from ruin.
I lifted my chin and had to turn to the side to get through the door.
The customized doorway should have been more than enough room for both of us if not for his extremely wide shoulders. I was very tiny. Okay, not very, but compared to him, I felt like a child—with not-so-childlike reactions.
Yep. Time to go.
I couldn’t look at him. Not now. I wasn’t sure I could deal with those arctic eyes buried under what should only be warmth. Who created anything gold and green only to end up with frostbite?
Okay, I really needed to get a grip.
My eye-line was level with his tie. Now that I was this close, little details came clear. The perfect knot was slightly askew as if it had been loosened in frustration. When he’d come out of the other room, he’d been a different man. Tired and almost…defeated. Then there was that alarmingly interesting flash of sepia ink under the staid layer of businessman.
The guy was the definition of a dichotomy.
Okay, wow, I needed sleep. Since my grandmother had died, I’d been spending endless hours in my workshop, only falling onto the old twin mattress I kept in the corner when my mind was too numb to work.
I needed to blink out and gather my resources again. It was even more apparent now since I was having very warm feelings toward a burgundy tie and the man who had swept in and stolen my house.
The heat coming off of him was obviously melting my brain.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.” His voice followed me out the door.
I stopped and turned on my heel. “Pardon?”
“Probationary. I’ll have a packet on your desk by morning with your salary and benefits. If that works for you, then we’ll see how it goes.”
“You’re hiring me?” Was that a squeak in my voice? And did he say benefits ?
“Yes, Ms. Copeland. You’re the only applicant the least bit interesting. Let’s see if you continue to be after an hour.”
“Gee, thanks.” I slammed my molars together. Shoot .
But he didn’t say anything more. And the door shut in my face.