Page 26 of Deceived Wrath

When he doesn’t answer, I swallow the last of my pride and utter the word I never thought I would say to Lorcan Sullivan.

“Please.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

I choke on a sob as the line goes dead.

What the hell did I just do?

Chapter Six

CORMAC

I sitbehind the enormous glass desk in my new office, staring at the stack of resumes like they're a personal affront.

It's Tuesday morning, and I've got a full day of interviews lined up for my new assistant.

I tap a pen against my teeth, already bracing myself for the parade of polished but soulless candidates about to traipse through the door.

For me, it's not about what college scholarship they managed to land or how many hours they've spent volunteering at a homeless shelter. What matters to me is if they can keep their mouths shut.

I realize I can't let paranoia make me overlook someone who might be competent. But every time I picture one of these strangers knowing about the inner workings of my life, of myson, I feel as if someone is cutting off my air.

The first candidate arrives, and I blink.

She barely looks old enough to have graduated high school, let alone college.

I will say she is impeccably dressed in a form-fitting black dress, and her face is glowing with nervous enthusiasm.

However, the moment she sits down across from me, I barely finish asking my first question before she launches into her well-rehearsed spiel about attention to detail and multitasking that has my teeth grinding.

"Do you have children?" I finally manage to ask.

Her brow furrows.

"Uh...no, sir. I'm looking to establish my career before settling down."

I nod as I pretend to take notes.

"Good. You'll need flexibility when it comes to your work hours. Sometimes, I might need you to come in on the weekends and stay after hours."

She nods eagerly. "Yes, sir."

At this point, I'm pretty sure I could tell her she'll be required to scrub the toilet, and she won't drop the smile from her face.

"I'll be in touch," I say as a way of dismissal.

The moment the door closes behind her, I scratch a line through her name and call in the next candidate.

She's another young girl with a perfect resume, perfect smile, and perfect answers to every question I fire at her. And yet, every time she opens her mouth, I find myself picturing Scout.

Whoever I hire doesn't just have the ability to disrupt the delicate balance I've been trying to maintain in my work life, but also in Scout's life too. By the time she leaves, I'm already drafting a mental list of reasons she won't last a week.

As the hours pass, each candidate is somehow worse in person than they were on paper. Some are overly aggressive while others are painfully meek. But what they all have in common is that they all seem to be oblivious to the fact that this isn't just a job they can clock out of at the end of the day, and that's the part of the job description that matters most.

By late morning, I've only seen half the candidates, and my blood pressure is already sky-high.

When another knock sounds at the door, I fight the urge to tell whoever it is to leave me the hell alone.