Chapter 6 Sophia
Sophia
This man is distracted as hell.
He’s acting like it’s a gigantic headache to have to ask me these perfunctory but relevant interview questions, like I’m putting him out by even being here. It seems he’s forgotten his insistence on “first dibs”, which, it irks me to admit, I’ve given him.
Not that he needs to know that.
As he paces back and forth, he fires questions at me that I lob back easily while my head turns to and fro like I’m at Wimbledon. Finally he stops and grips the back of his chair so tightly his knuckles turn instantly white.
‘You’re obviously qualified,’ he snaps. ‘Frankly, the only thing I’m concerned about if I hire you is your attitude.’
‘What a coincidence. The only thing I’m concerned about if you hire me is your attitude.’
That gives him pause. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Look. We both know I’m well qualified to do this job.
We both know I’ve got the relevant expertise and skills.
And, while I have no concerns at all about being able to handle all the steaming piles of shitty personality defects you serve me up every day, the question I’m asking myself is whether I want to.
Whether you’ll make it worth my while. Because, honestly, I can go somewhere else tomorrow and work for someone who doesn’t have his head up his arse and treats his EAs with the basic human decency they deserve. ’
I primly uncross and recross my legs, and he tracks the movement. Of course he does. He’s been staring at them for the past twenty minutes. He opens his mouth to speak, but I shake my head.
‘Nope. I’m not done. Nothing you’ve said or done since I’ve walked in here has dissuaded me from what I’ve already inferred from Talia’s take on you, which was very diplomatic, by the way: that you’d be a gigantic pain in the arse to have as a boss.
‘Your attitude stinks. I’ve done you the courtesy of coming in to see you as soon as I can, which is what you basically demanded when we met, and you’re acting like I’m wasting your time.
If you think this interview doesn’t work both ways then you’re sorely mistaken, pal, because I have far more options right now than you do, and I’m sure Camille’s told you as much. ’
He glares at me as if my very existence is the height of effrontery, and I couldn’t care less. I extend my hand in front of me and pretend to admire my immaculate red nails.
‘Can you please explain to me why Camille can’t find me an EA who’s prepared to do exactly what I ask without either running off to the loos in tears or being unacceptably impertinent?’
I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, seeking inner strength. It would be lovely if he could show just a soupcon of self-awareness. ‘I already did, last time we met. That kind of woman is called a submissive, remember, and you should really consider hiring someone like that.’
I open my eyes and fix them on him. Just like that, I’m uncomfortably reminded that, no matter how allergic I am to his particular brand of people management, I am definitely not allergic to the sight of his body or, alas, his face.
He looks even more fine in daylight, and all this pacing is giving me an excellent opportunity to enjoy his leanly athletic physique, the broad shoulders flexing against the crisp white cotton of his shirt and, of course, the deliciously toned arse in those expertly tailored dark grey trousers.
Even worse, no matter how much I despise myself for it, my pussy is loving his obnoxious power plays just as much as the rest of me is hating it.
If this entitled douche wants his very own sub, all he has to do is look up my dress.
He gives a little shake of his head, like my opinions are too ridiculous to give oxygen to. ‘Look. I’m not asking for much, just someone who can stay professional, rational and respectful. Is that such a stretch?’
I lean forward. ‘Same, bruh. Like I said, this needs to work both ways. You may be paying my salary if I work for you, but this will work much better as a partnership than a permanent stand-off. Am I right?’
Okay. Perhaps bruh-ing a potential employer was excessive, even for me. But if I blow this, I don’t give a crap.
He sighs, and I think maybe I’ve hit a nerve. ‘Look.’ It seems he’s the kind of guy who prefaces every law he lays down with look. ‘It’s been a rough day. I’m under a lot of stress.’
‘Yes, and you mentioned you’re about to get thrown into a work crisis, so clearly things will get far worse before they get better.’
He glares at me.
‘Look.’ Two can play that game, mister. ‘I don’t want or intend to add to your stress.
On the contrary, a large part of my role would be helping you manage it.
’ I pause to let that reminder sink in. ‘But I also won’t be your punching bag.
I have far too much self-respect for that. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Crystal,’ he mutters, but he’s looking like he sees me a little more fully. Like I’m an actual participant in this conversation rather than just an audience member of the Ethan Kingsley show.
He strolls back around the desk and motions for me to push my chair back, which I do. With his arse resting on the front of his desk, he towers over me and crosses his arms over his chest. I don’t hate it. ‘Tell me this, at least. Are you this much of a pain in the arse in bed?’
‘God, no. You can be as bossy as you like in bed. I lap that shit up.’
A little huff of what I think is amusement leaves his mouth, and his face softens slightly. ‘That’s a major relief. Why don’t you show me?’
People don’t often take me by surprise, but my eyebrows wing up. ‘Excuse me?’
‘You heard me.’
Now, Seraph has a strict interviewing process, and for good reason.
The first round is purely professional. If—and it’s a big if—both parties are happy that they’re a good fit professionally and would like to move forward, the interviewer places twenty-five thousand pounds into Seraph’s bank account.
The second round is usually a hotel dinner during which the sex stuff is discussed, after which we retire to a suite for the “audition”.
Make no mistake: the guy is auditioning just as much as the seraph is, and it’s usually we who walk away after the first or second round.
Either way, if we fuck them, we get all the money.
It’s a proven way to ensure that no one tries to work his way through the seraphim during the audition rounds without paying handsomely for the privilege.
‘You want to skip the dinner and just roll straight into the audition?’
Another hint of amusement. ‘I didn’t realise you were such a stickler for process.’
‘I’m a stickler for my wellbeing.’
He shrugs. ‘The money is already in Seraph’s account. By all means, call Camille and ask her. Unless it’s not about the money.’
I look at him properly then, and I can’t imagine there’s anything in my expression that suggests I’m not shamelessly up for this. Because the truth is that arguing is my absolute favourite form of foreplay, and having a dick-swinging competition with this dude has majorly given me the horn.
He’s dysregulated and obviously not in control of his stress levels, which should be a red flag and is in fact a gigantic green one, because I want him to work it out on me.
I’d rather he was like this, all wound up and in clear need of an outlet, than the coldly impassive man I met on that roof terrace.
I can definitely have some fun with this one.
He presses on. ‘Look at it this way. You asked me if I could make it worth your while to work for me, and I’m telling you I can.
Every fucking day. But I’d very much like to show you while I have the chance.
Because we both know that if you walk out of here after this conversation is done, you won’t sign up for the next round. What do you say?’
Oh my fucking God, he is so hot. In an instant, I understand where this guy’s sexual power lies, what form his hold over me will take.
It’s simply this: he looks so disdainful, so utterly underwhelmed by everyone and everything, that when he acts like he really wants you, it’s the most potent narcotic ever.
Supply and demand, baby. When someone withholds their regard so meanly, it’s impossible to withstand the temptation to pry it from them.
Without a word, without breaking the beseeching, hungry gaze in those beautiful pale grey eyes of his, I lean forward and pull my phone out of my bag. I glance down for a second as I pull up Camille’s name and hit dial. Once I have the phone to my ear, I settle back in my chair and gaze up at him.
She answers on the first ring.
‘Sophia. All okay?’
‘It’s fine. I’m in the interview with Ethan and he wants to proceed to the audition round while I’m here.’ Hopefully that’s a classy way to tell my colleague that my potential future boss wants to bang me on his desk post-haste.
‘Oh.’ She falters. ‘Are you sure everything’s going well? Are you comfortable with this?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. Honestly.’
‘Well, as long as you’re happy and comfortable, you should go ahead. We’ve already received his funds.’
‘That’s all I needed to know. Thanks.’
I disconnect the call and drop the phone back into my handbag, luxuriating in the heat of Ethan’s gaze, in the warmth of his rapt attention.
‘So. How do you want me?’