Chapter 5
Ethan
So far, the interviews have all been duds.
Jordan and Mike are looking for a stand-in, someone who can take instructions and is not completely clueless. I think their standards are non-existent. They think I need to give the candidates a break.
The last candidate, Owen Foster, has just left the room. He was better than the rest but still a flicker of heat when I’m looking for a raging inferno.
I’ve been called a perfectionist a few times, but this round of candidates has just made me feel like I'm wasting precious time that I would much rather be investing in something else.
“Not bad, actually,” Mike says as he scratches his stubbled jaw.
I suppress a snort, careful to keep my expression neutral. I see Jordan’s head bob from the corner of my eye, meaning he agrees with Mike’s assessment.
Today is the final day of interviews. In Mike’s words, we either shit or get off the pot. Someone is getting shortlisted today, whether I like it or not.
The first round of interviews was two weeks ago, and our deliberations afterward almost ended in a brawl because I wouldn't budge.
None of the candidates made the cut in my opinion. Even though each of us had a vote and I was outvoted by both of them, I threw such a hissy fit that they had to give in.
They resented my blatant disregard for their majority vote but were also aware that carrying two-thirds of the company’s workload means that I call the shots, and once in a while, I get to throw my weight around.
I know they’re just waiting for me to act up today.
“Ethan?” Jordan prompts, daring me to contradict them.
On paper, we are recruiting mid-level executives, but the job description is uniquely Jordan’s, and whomever we end up hiring would be directly under his supervision, able to take over his duties over time.
We’d decided not to let HR handle the interviews since we were looking to fill an unusual role, but maybe we should have just left this to HR because I don’t see this process not ending in another argument.
“Well, I suppose it wasn’t a complete disaster,” I allow. “He did figure out the bug in the end and worked it out.”
“But?” Jordan prompts.
“His confidence and delivery could be better. We don’t want to be losing deals to competitors because he’s not selling his point hard enough.”
“Ethan,” Mike explains patiently, “Jordan is the one going part-time. I’m still here, and the last time I checked, I handled those high-level negotiations. It’s Jordan’s shoes we need to be filling, not mine.”
I grudgingly accept that he has a point. Owen Foster could maybe fit into the role.
If we beat him into shape hard enough.
“Sajid, what do you think?” I ask. Before inviting candidates up to stand before the panel, Sajid thoroughly vetted each to ensure that their program writing, web and software development and ethical hacking skills were up to par.
“You know, I like him. He’s smart and teachable. I think the nerves got to him a little bit, but he is more confident than he appeared today, Ethan. I would give him a chance.”
“Can’t argue with that assessment. Fine. Owen it is,” I concede.
I expect to see Jordan’s sigh of relief at my compliance, but instead, he asks, “How many more to go, Sajid?
“Three.”
I shrug. “As far as I’m concerned, let's just conclude here. Owen is the best of the twenty-two people we’ve seen in the past two interviews combined. I doubt we'll find anyone else as promising.”
“Hey, we’ve waited this long, we might as well finish. We may yet find gold dust in these muddy waters,” Jordan says cryptically.
I narrow my eyes at him, but he keeps a stupidly straight face. Jordan has an annoying tendency to always have something up his sleeve. For some reason, he never keeps secrets from me, even going as far as telling me things that I'd blissfully live the rest of my life not knowing .
But I'm sensing this is one of those moments when he has an agenda and this time, he's left me in the dark.
I’m about to find out very quickly what it is.
As Sajid leaves to bring in the next candidate, I check my email for updates. I’m in the middle of replying to an email when I suddenly look up and suck in a deep breath in shock.
Is that…? It’s her.
The fuck is she doing here?
I remember our very first conversation in Cancun.
I’m a freelance tech and security expert…
…if you piss me off, you might wake up to find your precious Acercraft all pwned up.
It’s Bonnie. She must indeed have those skills if she's somehow found her way into this room.
I check the document in front of me to see a B. Russo. How blind could I be not to recognize that name? You’d think that name would stand out to me considering how much she’s lived rent-free in my head for the last four months.
And here she is now. Black glossy curls shot through with purple piled on top of her head and falling over one side of her temple. That face that Aphrodite herself carved and finished off with full, pillowy lips.
She has a delicate frame, almost skinny. Her silk shirt is tucked into the tiny waistband of a ridiculously short leather skirt, which highlights shapely thighs and calves, and her feet are encased in heels. My fist curls.
Those fucking legs.
My gaze swings back up, and I meet eyes that remind me of dark chocolate. She smirks.
Yeah, it’s her, alright. Smirking, sassy, little thing. Even though Bonnie is a dream to look at, she’s too damn prickly.
I notice Jordan has a triumphant smile on his lips.
I'm going to kill him . He knows there’s no way in hell that I’d let this woman in here. He saw what happened in Cancun and admitted he’d never seen anyone annoy me like she did.
In as much as I don't do well with chaos and lack of control, I'm particularly less tolerant of it happening where I work, and Jordan knows this.
I clear my parched throat. “Well, Ms. Russo. You have the floor.”
“Thank you, Ethan.”
I look up sharply at her casual use of my first name . It’s Mr. Hawthorne to you. I bite my tongue and grind my teeth.
If Sajid or Mike are surprised by her lack of formality, they don't show it.
“Gentlemen,” she begins, looking around the room like we’re her minions, “I know you've seen this code debugged repeatedly by other candidates, and I have also done the same. But I thought to make things a bit interesting by introducing to you a program I've just now created that will redefine the way we approach debugging.”
Hey, hang on, a program? She’s only meant to provide a corrected code!
“Imagine if we had a tool that not only automates the process but also continuously learns from the code itself. This prototype,” she says and makes a sweeping motion towards the screen, “is BUG-fix.”
As she continues, I look around to see their reactions to what Bonnie is saying. They’re hanging on to the edges of their seats.Cocking my head, I look back at her.
Good God. This is what you call a fucking presence.
The moment she opened her mouth, she had the room by the throat. The only other person I know who holds that kind of command over an audience is Mike Waldrow, and he doesn't wear a belt for a skirt, have killer legs, or possess lips made for sin, which happen to be encased in red lipstick at the moment.
I watch her with grudging admiration. There’s something lethal about Bonnie. Strong, seductive. I look at Mike, Sajid, and Jordan halfway through her presentation, and I know the gig’s over.
Do they even hear what she’s saying?
Not that it matters. Even if she were talking gibberish, they’re goners. But she’s not. She’s brilliant.
She solved the problem and even created a version control system so that it never becomes a problem again. By the end of her fifteen minutes, Jordan looks like he’s discovered a treasure. Mike and Sajid may as well have had an eargasm.
Okay, this is mildly embarrassing. And annoying. She makes us look like the tech team that the company sent over to attend her training session.
Bonnie Russo. Who does this sassy woman think she is, waltzing in like she owns the place?
Jordan looks at me and inclines his head, lifting a single eyebrow. It’s a thing between us, and it means, 'Take that.'
Oh, I will, jackass.
“Thank you, Ms. Russo. That was quite interesting, if a bit ambitious. Any questions from the panel?”
Sajid pipes up. “Not a question, but a request.”
“Sure,” Bonnie says.
“Would you mind if we used this BUGfix as a VCS template for trainees?” Sajid looks at her with puppy eyes and I want to smack him.
“No, of course not. Consider it complementary for your trouble, moving things around for me despite my tardiness, which I apologize for. If you like I could attach some training prompts to it, just so it's fully adapted for it's intended use.”
So, she came late, too. She didn’t even have as much time as the others had to prepare.Wow.
That inexplicable need I had to speak to her the first time I set my eyes on her returns. Only it's more acute now.
Having seen what she's done here, what I know she has the capacity to do, that need has just morphed into something else. Something darker. Something that is too ludicrous to even be contemplating.
I want her by my side.
My cock twitches at the thought and I viciously yank it from my head. This is exactly why I need to get her as far away from me as possible before the thought takes root.
Bonnie looks at me, a soft, almost pleading look in her eyes.
Waiting for something.
For what? The rest of your interviewers are drowning in drool. What the fuck do you want from me. Applause?
Something squeezes in my chest but I’m not falling for that look. Especially with that almost permanent smirk still on her face.
Okay. Time to shut this down.
“I do have a question, Ms. Russo,” I begin. “We utilize a number of programming languages in Acercraft. Surely you must know that this prototype would infinitely make more sense if it were written in Xerif. Do you even know the language?”
Jordan and Mike look at me like I’ve gone mad, but I ignore them, motioning to her to answer the question.
And to my utmost surprise, she fumbles for a moment, and a flush steals over her exquisite cheeks.
The question is unfair and completely irrelevant to the interview. I just wanted to ask her what she wouldn't know the answer to because somehow I suspect that doesn't happen very often to her.
I wanted to see how she'd respond to being annoyed and put on the defensive. I fully expected her to lash out given what I've seen of her, but I just wanted to put that theory to the test.
And instead of handing my ass over to me in pure Bonnie fashion, she blushes furiously. Fuck, I love that color on her. Although, I do hate myself for getting her flustered.
She finally says almost meekly, “I’ll have to admit, I haven’t had much experience with Xerif, but I’m sure it’s something I can learn on the job.”
I'm taken aback by her response . That's all you have to say, Bonnie? I literally offered you a chopping block with my head on it, you went all acquiescent on me.
And I need to stop trying to figure her out and send her away.
“That depends on if you’re successful in your interview." I say, "But thanks for your time today, Ms. Russo, we’ll be in touch.”
She looks at me, and something flashes in her eyes before she averts her face. It’s fleeting, but I know it’s not anger. Possibly hurt pride. She leaves the room like a queen, and I feel like the heel that snatched her crown.
“What the hell, Ethan?” Jordan whirls on me.
“What?”
“Even I don’t know jackshit about those other code languages, and I own this company.”
“Yeah, you and me both,” Mike growls.
Jordan knows because we wrote at least one of them together, but I get that he's annoyed right now. Sajid is definitely aware.
“Sajid?”
“It’s true, Ethan you may have a point.” I don't have a point, but Sajid is too nice to say that. Besides as senior partner and the head of I.T. he should have been asking the questions, not fawning over a fresh, new VCS and I think he's realized that.
“Still, it looks like a great program. And what a presentation, guys!” Sajid announces and Jordan and Mike agree. They launch into a discussion about the things they love most about it.
I already know where this is headed; towards hiring her.
Alarm bells start ringing wildly in my head. Bonnie is brilliant. But she's also nosy- inquisitive , I amend, and she's bold.
She only needs to work with me for a short time before she'll start to wonder, and inevitably look for answers.
Why my system is on a very separate, very secure network.
Why even for the most mundane online activity, I'm either anonymous or using an alias.
Why my phone lines and emails have added layers of encryption.
Essentially, why security around me is impregnable while Jordan who actually heads systems and security has a regular set-up.
Jordan suspects why. I know he does, but it's not something he could ever come out and ask me despite us being as close as brothers. Mike doesn't care, he chalks my behavior down to me being a paranoid nutjob and feels I need it to survive.
I actually do need it to survive.
“She's fucking brilliant, that woman, Ethan just wanted to poke holes in her interview,” Mike interrupts my thoughts, thumping the table for emphasis.
“Ms. Russo could do with some humility.”I say, wishing they’d all calm down.
“Humility!” Mike roars. “She should be fucking proud of what she's done here today.”
“And”, Sajid adds, “she wrote a prototype program specifically to solve this problem and was offering it free of charge. Think of what she could do for this company. I think Ms. Russo is head and shoulders above the others.”
I'm only too aware of that fact “So, is that why an interview suddenly turned into a celebrity meet and greet?”
Jordan, who had been silently observing the exchange up until now, says, “Celebrity or candidate, none of it matters now. One thing we can all agree on is that we’re hiring Bonnie.”
“We still have two other candidates to interview,” I protest.
Jordan throws his head back in laughter. “For what? She’s cracked and permanently repaired the code! The interview is over!"
“There are other ways to assess them.”
“Knock yourself out, Ethan.” He stands and waves his hand dismissively. “I’m out. Now, I don’t give a fuck which other candidate you pick, but if I don’t see Bonnie Russo’s name on the shortlist, I’m cutting down another third of my hours, since I’ll assume you all have too much time to delegate to capable hands.”
I know he’s bluffing, but Mike and Sajid don’t, so there’s a subtle air of panic.
“I have a bad feeling about this.” I warn.
“A feeling? I see. Do you want to share the details of those feelings with the rest of the class?” Jordan's tone is mocking.
I know I’ve lost the argument, but I can’t help making a last-ditch effort to stop this.
I lift a file from the desk. It’s Bonnie's resume, which I haven’t seen yet, but I imagine Sajid and Jordan have had a good look.
“She dropped out of school.” Not once . Not twice.
Three times.
Does my point sound as weak to everyone’s ears as it does to mine?
“So? When did we start putting the ticking of boxes over raw talent? Have you seen her portfolio? It's insane.”
“Raw talent can only get you so far. You need soft skills to sustain you, and not having them will cost us more in the end. For instance, is she going to quit on us at the slightest inconvenience?” I argue.
“I can’t predict the future,” Jordan answers. “But I know she’s qualified, she’s outgoing, she has excellent problem-solving skills. She takes instructions very well. And she fucking knows how to own a room. That woman can sell water to a fish. So again, in light of all these, tell us what your misgivings are.”
They’re right. I have now run out of sensible reasons, and I’m left with the ones that make no sense.
The ones I could never give voice to.
“Fine!" throw up my hands. "We’re picking her.”
The last two interviews were pointless. Whether it's because they performed that badly, or because after having interviewed Bonnie, our expectations had gone sky high. Jordan ended up staying, just to rub it in, I’m sure.
We decide to hire Owen and Bonnie as staff trainees.
As we leave the conference room, Jordan comes over looking really pleased with himself.
“I have to say, Ethan, your enthusiasm for selecting the best candidates in this interview is quite touching.”
“Fuck off, you sneaky bastard. You could have warned me.”
“I thought I’d make it a pleasant surprise.” Jordan smiles at my obvious annoyance.
“Anyway, I meant what I said. If she messes up, she’s out.”I say.
“Yes, boss. And just to make you feel better, she and Owen will be on probation for the first three months.”
“You’re her line manager, you can sort out those details,” I remind him.
“Absolutely. Now, I just have to share the good news.”
“That’s assuming she still wants to work here,” Saj points out, having overheard us. “What must she think of us? Performing that brilliantly and still getting knocked down in her interview. That’s already giving off the impression that nothing she does will be appreciated here.”
I wish Sajid would stop whining.
“Well, you're lucky that my specialty is smoothing ruffled feathers then. Don’t worry, Saj, Bonnie will take the job,” Jordan reassures.
God, I hope not.