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“The ‘we’ is privileged information. I need an assistant. One with the skill set you already have to help with a few of my high-end clients.”
“You're offering me a job.”
“A good one.”
“And I’d be your assistant?”
“Handler, assistant, or a concierge, if you will. I'm not just offering to pay off your debt. I am offering you the chance to continue to perform favors for people around town in exchange for training. Knowledge. Experience. Not just a loan and repayment. A future. Possibilities.”
Hellena sits there glaring at me for several seconds. “I… I’m not sure.”
“Come on. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.”
It’s all worth it if nothing else to see the look of outrage on her face.
10
HELLENA
“Idoubt it.”
Obnoxious does not even begin to describe DeSante.
What’s worse… he’s also unbelievably good-looking. Just like he said.
And magnetic.
And arrogant as hell.
Somehow, despite the fact that we're sitting at eye level, he manages to look down on me over the ridge of his perfect nose. That sits above perfect, full lips, above his perfect, squared chin on his whole perfect fucking face.
Like take your fucking breath away hot. Crisp clean, and effortlessly gorgeous. Too bad he's also a prick. I can't tell whether he's toying with me, teasing me, or if he's just an asshole.
He looks across the desk at me with… disdain. I’ve never seen a look that embodies that word better. I do my best not to squirm under his gaze, but it’s a challenge.
I won’t let him win.
Too bad I already feel like he has, sitting there like a male model fantasy. Usually, I don't go for these kinds of guys, so well-trimmed, but he's just… wow. His attitude contrasting with the way he looks makes me want to simultaneously slap the look off his face and strip him down and let him have his way with me.
And now I’m scrambling, because where the hell are these thoughts coming from?
Control! Focus.
That’s just it, though. It’s his control, mastery of himself and the situation, that has me riled up and competitive. I want that kind of control. He’s pure control.
It’s absolutely enthralling the way he commands the room, maneuvers through our conversation.
“Hellena?” I stare for a second, realizing he asked me a question. “Do we have a deal? I have other appointments.”
I give myself just a few seconds to think it over before I snap back at him with what I really want to say. Which is, I think you're a pretentious prick. And I think you can take this job and your magical little favors and shove them up your ass.
Something about him fires me up. Makes me want to show him. It makes me snap back every time he prods. And it makes it impossible for me to turn this down, even if I didn’t need the money.
What he does is exactly what I want to do.
But I’m done rolling over for people.
“Your other appointments can wait,” I start, and his eyes widen a fraction. “First, I don't do anything I’m uncomfortable with. I’m simply expanding my field, my client base, if you will. Second, you teach me everything you know. I want to know everything about this place. About you. Third, I make a livable wage since this job is my form of paying my debt to you. And finally, you know people. I need assurances that I’ll be left alone by my… would-be assailants. For good.” I raise my chin, straightening my back. He said negotiate. Fine.
