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“Then why did you?”
“I had nowhere else to go,” I insisted. “You were in my way.”
“So you needed to.”
I bit my tongue. I knew where he was going with this.
“You wanted to.”
“How is this related at all to the job you’re interviewing me for?” I snapped. My fingers tightened around the hard wooden arms of the chair, the pressure pushing against my nail beds. “Is this even an interview? You can just tell me right now if you’re not going to give it to me instead of wasting my time.”
His brows rose high, little wrinkles deepening on his forehead. “If this were an interview, you’re not being very professional, Ray.”
I was going to kill him. Right there in his office, blood everywhere, just like how it dripped from my nose onto the pristine snow yesterday morning. I’d do it with his own damn trophy that sat on the bookcase behind him.
I breathed in deep through my nose, then slowly out through my mouth, the same way I did when Mom wasn’t doing well and I needed to keep my cool. “Neither are you, Wade.”
His jaw hardened, his tongue rubbing against the front of his teeth. “Then maybe this isn’t going to be a good fit after all.”
“You haven’t even given me a chance. You’ve barely asked me any questions, nor have you given me the opportunity to ask questions of my own. I haven’t seen you look down at my resume once?—”
“Because I don’t need to.”
“Humor me, then. Ask me an actual interview question so I don’t feel like every second I’ve spent in here has been entirely worthless.” I didn’t bother to hide the venom in my voice. Anger bubbled in my blood, and I wasn’t going to leave without at least giving it my best shot, even if I’d most likely ruined my chances before we’d even begun.
He grunted as he tore his gaze from me, looking instead down at my resume. “Why did you leave your last place of employment, Ms. Harleson?”
God fucking dammit.
“I didn’t,” I answered. I released the arms of the chair, my nails and muscles thanking me, and sat back. “I was fired.”
“You’re really not selling yourself,” he mumbled.
“I was late twice and had to leave early a handful of times with minimal notice,” I explained. “My mom has special medical needs. They weren’t very understanding, to say the least.”
Wade glanced at me through thick lashes, his fingers thumbing the edge of my resume. “I know James well enough to believe that.”
Shit. He knew my old boss?
“He was always an asshole to his employees. We’ve picked up a few of his spares over the years, mostly to run the hotel side of the resort. But you were working quite closely with him, weren’t you?”
I nodded. “Same role as I’m interviewing for now.”
“Oh, so you do think it’s an interview then?” He lifted his eyes back to me, his smile crooked. “Interesting. Do you have any questions for me?”
I bit my lip, my thoughts starting to mingle together. Should I be honest? Forward? Meek? “Salary. I want to know the salary.”
“I believe it was listed on the job post.”
“It was. I want it confirmed.”
“The current salary for the role is seventy-one thousand,” he explained. Fuck, I need this job. The sound of a drawer opening made me jump, and I watched the way his arm moved as he rustled through it. “Overtime is paid at two and a half times the base rate.”
“And what are the hours?”
The tendons in his hands flexed as he pushed a small packet of papers across his desk toward me. “It’s all in there. Ideally, I’d have you five days a week. I’m flexible on which days those are, but I’d prefer if the days off could be taken together as we have another assistant to fill those.”
“You work seven days a week?” I asked, the words falling from my lips before I could stop them. You need this. Don’t ask unnecessary questions.
