2. Arsen
2
ARSEN
I place the toy in the center of my desk and point to the leather chair opposite mine. “Sit.”
Her eyes shift from the toy to the door and back again like she’s running calculations, trying to figure out how quickly she could snag her belongings and make a daring escape.
“Security would catch you on the way out. I don’t think you want to be frisked with that in your pocket.”
“I’m mortified.” She drops into the chair, her hands fluttering to her knees and then folding in her lap, only to end up on her knees again. “That was never, ever meant to happen.”
She has no idea. I’d been this close to ordering Malcolm to cancel her interview altogether. I don’t know how she made it here in the first place; her resume leaves a lot to be desired. The woman has an outdated undergrad degree in marketing and virtually no relevant work experience
What she does have are sultry eyes, legs for days, and a sex toy in her bag. That earns her five minutes of my time.
She’s also a dead ringer for my wife. That earns her five more.
“So, Ms. Barnes… tell me why you’re here.”
She attempts to pull her focus from the vibrator to my face, but can’t quite manage to make the leap. “Are you just going to leave it sitting there?”
“Yes. Answer the question.”
She pushes back a lock of feathery blonde hair. If leaving her hair loose was an attempt to hide those shoulder pads in her jacket, it failed. But if wearing the shoulder pads was an attempt to hide her body from my gaze…
Well, that failed, too.
“Mr. Adamov—” She takes a deep breath and launches into what’s obviously a rehearsed speech. “—I know my resume must seem pretty weak compared to all the other applicants that has walked in your door, but I am a hard worker and a fast learner.”
“You and every other person I’ve met with today.”
She edges to the corner of her seat. A little farther and she could drop to her knees. Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind seeing her beg. “Well, unlike all of them, I don’t have a life. That means I can devote every last second of my time to this job.”
“I could’ve guessed that.” Despite myself, the corners of my mouth turn up. “Your purple friend here doesn’t exactly scream ‘thriving social butterfly.’”
Her blush goes radioactively red. It’s cute. Endearing, even, if I were the sort of man who fell for the blushing innocence act. “I would really, really appreciate it if you didn’t hold that against me.”
Now, I’m the one distracted. Hold it against which part of her?
I watch her for a moment. Her lips slightly parted, nervous breath trickling in and out. She smells faintly sweet. Vanilla, I think. It suits her.
With a sigh, I open her paltry resume. “You haven’t worked at all in the last year.”
“I’ve been working at a temp agency called ‘Fresh Start.’ I needed a flexible schedule.”
“And you’re no longer in need of a flexible schedule?”
She hesitates, her fingers digging into her knees as she leans forward. “Well, not exactly. It’s just?—”
“You say you have no life and yet you require a flexible schedule. You say you have time to devote to this job and yet you seem reluctant to commit to it. Which is it?”
“It comes down to what I need more. Right now, I need money more than I need flexibility.” She cringes. “God, this is coming out all wrong. I had this all planned out, but I dropped Seth and it got me all turned arou?—”
“Who?”
She freezes, a deer in the headlights if I’ve ever seen one. I can pick out flecks of indigo hidden amongst the blue of her wide eyes. “… No one.”
“You said, ‘Seth.’”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“You said, ‘I dropped Seth.’”
Her mouth opens to lie again, and then she drops her face into her hands. “Can you pretend you didn’t hear that?”
No, I can’t. Not only will I not forget this, I’m going to think about it often. I’ve been in soul-sucking interviews all day. This has been an amusing bright spot.
“This is an interview, Ms. Barnes,” I remind her. “Answer my questions or leave.”
Her chest is rising and falling rapidly like she might take flight at any second. Through the door if possible; through the window if not.
But if she leaves now, my fun will be over. Fortunately for me, Ms. Barnes isn’t a quitter. She lifts her head and meets my eyes.
“Seth is… someone who meant a lot to me,” she admits, her cheeks flushing in a way that tells me he was more than a friend. You don’t name your vibrator after a friend , after all.
My fingers twitch as I imagine wrapping my hand around the throat of this “Seth” who seems to have made such a deep impression on Ms. Barnes. It’s unlike me to have such a strong reaction to a man I’ve never met. Especially over a woman I barely know.
The vanilla is messing with my head.
“He was my middle school crush,” she continues. “And the first boy who ever kissed me.”
Grudgingly, I decide to let the man live.
“Must have been some kiss.”
“It wasn’t about the kiss. He was a sweet guy. He made me feel special.” She winces, then clears her throat. “Anyway—you were asking me why there is a gap in my work history. It’s because I quit my previous job when my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”
“When was this?”
“Almost a year ago.” Judging from the catch in her throat, she’s not making it up. “Pancreatic cancer. They claimed they caught it early, but we’re two rounds of chemo deep and things aren’t looking any better.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She lifts her chin even higher. “I’m not playing the sympathy card; I’m just answering your question. Mom needed someone to drive her to chemo every day, and we couldn’t afford full-time help.” Her voice softens. “That’s why there’s a gap in my work history.”
“She is why you need money so badly.”
“I’m not asking for a handout. I’ll work hard for it. I’ll do anything if it means I can give my mother a comfortable life.”
I’ll do anything. And with those three magic words, I sense opportunity. All the possibilities that shrank and withered the day I was forced to slide this cursed wedding band on my finger start to expand and bloom again.
This pretty little roza may be the solution that I didn’t know I was searching for.
“I’m not getting this job, am I?” she asks suddenly.
“No, Miss Barnes. You’re not.”
She nods stiffly, like she expected no less, and rises to her feet. There’s a proud defiance in her posture that I find myself admiring. “Thank you, Mr. Adamov. I won’t waste any more of your time.”
She steps forward and just when I think she’s about to offer me her hand, she reaches for the vibrator instead.
I snatch it off the desk before she can. “Our interview is not over yet.”
She pauses, head tilted to the side in confusion. Her cheeks are red like roses. “You just said I didn’t get the job.”
“You didn’t get this job. But there is another position available. One I think you might be uniquely qualified for.”
A hopeful smile flickers across her face before she controls it. “There is?”
Fuck knows I’ve never seen Natascha smile, but if she did… She and this woman could be twins.
“It pays well. Better, actually. It includes an expense account, a personal chauffeur, and medical insurance for you and immediate family members.”
Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets. “What— Where— How am I ‘uniquely qualified’ for it?”
“Because from what I can see—” My gaze slides down the curves of her body, shoulder pads and all. “—you have the hips for it.”
She recoils. “What the hell does that have to do with a job?”
“Everything— if you choose to accept the position.”
“What position?”
“My wife and I have been married a little over a year, Ms. Barnes, and we’re… unable to have children.” I walk around the desk, turning the wedding band around and around on my ring finger and wishing, like always, that I could tear it off and melt it away. “I’d like you to be our surrogate.”