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Chapter 1
The Interview
“How many sexual partners have you had in your life?” Mr. Stone browsed my college transcript and then flipped to my resume. “That’s including oral and anal.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
Did I hear him correctly?
I’d been prepared to answer several questions for this job interview: What are your strengths and/or weaknesses? Are you okay with the straining time commitment of an executive assistant? Will you be comfortable being the only black person in an all-white corporation?
Time to brush up on sexual harassment laws for private companies. And do I really want a job where the boss wonders about my sex life? Dang it. But, do I have other options?
Mr. Stone tossed my resume on the table and picked up a folder with my name on it. “Did you understand the question?”
“Yes.”
“How many men have entered you?” He opened the folder, turned a page, and then targeted me with green eyes that boasted amber hues around the irises. No blemishes, wrinkles, or splotches decorated his tan skin. Midnight-black waves framed his face. Interrupting my ogling, he said, “Do I need to draw diagrams or bring out visual aids, Ms. Montgomery?”
He’s gorgeous, but he’s an asshat.
“No.” I twisted my lucky copper ring on my pinky finger. “I’ve had two partners.”
“Only two?”
The redheaded woman next to him covered her mouth and snickered. The other panel members wore neutral masks on their faces—from the old graying men in designer suits to the stunning women coated in make-up and expensive perfume. Each person was the head of a multi-million dollar company Stone owned. All of them had been his or his father’s executive assistants. If I got the job, my future would be laid out with sparkling platinum bricks and a servant to guide me through my career, bearing wine and pricey caviar.
Just get through the interview, Jasmine. No rash decisions. No cursing him out and stomping out of the office. At least see where this goes.
“Yes.” I twirled the ring. “I’ve only had two partners.”
“Any female partners?” He curled his lips at the edges. His cheeks quivered a little, as if he were holding in laughter.
Oh, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
I kept a straight face. “No women.”
Stone set the folder on his desk and knitted his fingers together. His hands screamed manicured—nails filed even, a gloss of clear polish, and no bordering cuticles or abrasions.
Those are billionaire hands. I’ll bet he has a servant who wipes his behind after he goes to the bathroom.
He trapped me in his gaze. “Are you with the second partner?”
“I’m single.” I tapped my right foot. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of my face. I didn’t wipe it away, in fear that I would reveal my shaking fingers.
“What happened with your last boyfriend?” Stone glanced at my shoes.
I hid the shoe with the scuffed tip behind my other leg. “I caught him cheating on me with my best friend.”
“Besides breaking up with him, what did you do when you found out?”
“Nothing.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Are you still friends with both the ex and best friend?”
“Yes.”
“Have they married?”
