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“You won’t?”
I shake my head, feeling miserable that I spent the money on the bus fare. “I’m not capable of lying. It’s a problem, actually. I was hoping to work here because the position said I couldwork on my own. I don’t have a lot of people skills, which isn’t something I should tell someone who works here, I realize. I don’t know if you know anyone in the hiring department, but?—”
“Isabelle,” he says roughly. “Being honest is a highly-valued trait in this company. If you want the job, it’s yours.”
“You mean it?”
“Yes, of course I do. Honesty is a virtue.”
The elevator doors open.
As soon as we step out, three people snap to attention. He guides me past the reception desk, barking an order to have Wesley come to his office immediately. I recognize the name as the hiring manager who I’m interviewing with.
Now I feel really dumb. “Are you Wesley’s boss?” My cheeks flame. “I’m so sorry about everything I said. I would?—”
“I’m not his boss. Wesley reports to the director of human resources, who reports to a vice president.” He’s walking so fast it’s hard to keep up with him, and I have to run every third step.
We approach a wide open area with another reception desk, and keep going. The carpet here is even more lush than in the first part of the office.
He stops in front of a heavy-looking glass door, frowns, and pushes it open. Inside is a desk, a wide bookshelf, and another door, all taking second place to the incredible view of the city out the floor-to-ceiling window. “This will do.”
“For what?”
“For you,” he says at the same time as the door bursts open again and a man—who is maybe the same age as my stern self-appointed guardian, but he looks older and more tired—rushes in.
“Mr. Emerson,” the other man says. “I’m sorry, there’s been some kind of mixup.”
My head swivels between them, and I repeat the name. It comes out as a confused question. “Mr. Emerson?”
“Mack Emerson, please. And it’s not a mix-up. I met Ms. Bright downstairs and realized she was exactly who I was missing in my life. I’ll be conducting her interview myself, Wesley. You can go.”
Chapter 2
Mack
Even as Ilead her into my office, I know I’m putting myself in an impossible position.
Isabelle’s cheeks are bright red as she passes through the adjoining door I hold open for her. The outer office was designed for an assistant, but I haven’t liked any of the candidates we’ve hired lately being that close to me.
This girl, though…
I need her as close as humanly possible, and I’m not prepared to explain why. Not to anyone else, and not even to myself. I just know—this young woman is mine.
Which she can’t be. She’s young enough to be my daughter, if I’d ever thought of children. I haven’t, of course. You don’t get to be the head of a multinational company like Emerson Industries with distractions like a family.
I should know—my own father was a tycoon who abandoned me and my mother to focus on his business. Taking over his company and firing him was my singular focus as a young man. After I accomplished that, I buried myself in making a difference in the world.
Standing here now, trying desperately to come up with a reasonable excuse for Isabelle to work for me, with me, under me, in my hands, on my lap, on my face… I’ve got nothing.
I’m one of the most accomplished men in the world, a shrewd negotiator, and I?—
“Did I do something wrong?” Isabelle asks nervously.
Fuck.
“No, never,” I assure her gruffly. “Do you have a resume, Ms. Bright?”
“I submitted it electronically.” Her voice pitches up, panicking. The high note is like a live wire attached to my cock. I like that stressed out warble more than I should. I imagine Isabelle Bright would do anything to make up for a transgression like not having a paper copy of her resume on hand.
