“Probationary period?” Wynter asked, thinking it rather annoying that after not interviewing and yet hounding her to accept the role, the boss man would still appreciate the opportunity to get rid of her should she not live up to his expectations.
“Just in case,” Marcus countered with a look of satisfaction on his stoic face, “it’s better for everyone if you’re given the chance to try the job out before you commit to anything.”
Oh. That was a surprise. So it wasn’t for them to get rid of her, but the other way around? Wow, it really did seem like the sort of workplace that took over your life. David hadn’t been kidding after all.
Wynter took a steadying breath and peered across at him. Marcus was powerful, she could tell. He liked that power and had an intimidating element to him she could sense. He didn’t seem like he’d be uneasy in delivering their boss’s demands. Not gentle and inviting, like David had been, but she appreciated that he might at least be honest with her, perhaps brutally so at times.
“First thing’s first,” she told him before taking a sip of the water she realised he’d poured them both without even asking her. “I’d like to know why he chose me? What made Mr Cole pick me out and decide to know more? And does he make a habit of hiring random people just because he finds them intriguing?” she asked, using the term David had relayed to her the night before when trying to lure her upstairs at Mr Cole’s request.
Marcus grinned and leaned forward in his chair, where he linked his hands in front of his chin and rested it on them, all the while watching her with a devious twinkle in his eye.
“Mr Cole has very particular tastes when it comes to all aspects of his life, whether business or pleasure,” he told her, “something about a person will grab his attention and he will not stop until he acquires them for whatever position he has in mind. As you may well know, there’s no such thing as an opening within this company, Wynter. He creates roles for the people he wants to come and work for him. He dictates their working hours and their salaries. He makes demands of their time and effort in whatever way he sees fit, and not a single one of his employees has ever complained or left his employment.”
“Why?” she asked again, feeling overwhelmed. There had to be more to it. In what world would she be plucked from a crowd and given an offer that might change her life? This sort of thing didn’t happen. Not to her anyway.
“Because he can read people. Know what they need and how hard they’re willing to work to get it. He saw it in you, too. And when you work for him, everything changes. You become one of the elite few who can walk on water simply because his name gives you the power to do so. He opens doors others only close and it’s like a drug. One each of us wants more and more of.”
His comment hung in the air, making the silence tense and yet seductive.
Could it really be so amazing working for one man? And who in the hell was he? Wynter was still scared, but knew she had to find out.
Two
Wynter reached her hand forward and held it out to Marcus. She was hesitant but also curious, and wanted to find out just what this strange new boss had in mind for her. Plus, it couldn’t hurt to take a look at the proposal. Nothing was set in stone and wouldn’t be until she was ready to sign. She would walk out of there no problem if the deal and its terms weren’t right, but hoped that wouldn’t be the case.
“Then let’s see what he has to say about me,” she told him and was met with another of Marcus’s devilish grins. Those eyes of his were mesmerising and when teamed with that smile he was dangerously mysterious. He was hot, she couldn’t deny it, and Wynter quickly found herself wondering what the rules were on inter-office liaisons.
But first, she had to keep a clear head and see what she was potentially getting herself into.
Her interviewer handed her the file and she read the first few pages. It was indeed some kind of dossier and within was a brief overview of her current career path and income at Marsden and Carmichael. The phrases ‘face doesn’t fit’ and ‘lacks the proper reputation’ jumped out, and were like a kick in the teeth. They were there in black and white, taken from copies of emails sent between her boss and line manager. The pair of them had discussed her personal life at length and called her a ‘cold and distant sort. Not right for a position higher up within the company.’
If she weren’t so cold and distant Wynter thought she might be upset reading their words. Part of her was, but like any emotion, she pushed it down and turned the page.
It didn’t get any better. Whoever had delved deeply into her life had pulled up her bank records and gone so far as to plot her sorry state in a graph. It had her current net worth in bright red letters at the bottom with a minus sign before it.
Further down it got even worse. There were bullet points. Her personal life outlined so simply. So coldly.
Relationship status – single. Never married. No children. No prospects.
Casual sex – yes, frequently plus masturbation.
Uses sexual protection – yes, condoms and pill.
Number of sexual partners – approx. 30-35 in the past year.
Medical history – nothing significant.
Allergies – none.
Current medications – oral contraceptive. Past – anti-depressants.
Wynter went through a range of emotions at reading through her file. She was angry, ashamed, and then disgusted. How could they know some of these things? And what about her medical background, unless they’d hacked into the records held by her GP? And even worse, how could they possibly know about her sexual habits and number of partners, unless they’d snooped on her social media and perhaps even her phone records?
This was worse than trying for a job at MI6, or so she believed.
She wanted to shout her mouth off and storm away, but then took another look at the whole sum of her life’s efforts. No family. No husband. Just a life of proclivity and crippling debt. The only person she should be angry with was her. She had let herself get that way and now, sitting opposite her was her chance to change all that.
Wynter let out a sigh and lifted her gaze back to Marcus. “Wanna know my shoe size too?”
“We have to be thorough,” he answered without a hint of an apology.
“Why?” she demanded, albeit half-heartedly.
“I can tell you once you’ve signed the contract,” he replied cryptically, “don’t like it? You know where the door is.”
Marcus then waited a few seconds and when Wynter didn’t take the offer to leave he grinned across at her. “Good. The full dossier on you will be handed over once you’ve signed the contract. We keep only one sealed copy for future records.”
More like for leverage, she thought, but realised they didn’t have any on her anyway, so figured she wouldn’t let it bother her.
Wynter let out a huff and flicked over to the next page. At least the invasive part seemed over with. On the second page was a summary of her proposed job role. It was finally some good information and made her flush with excitement to discover that she would be given an office of her own, and the title of Marketing Manager.
She would apparently be working alongside the IT department to produce materials for both public viewing, and those accessing the club’s exclusive member’s only sites for the specialty themed nights in between. This was interesting, but at least it explained why the nightclub was only open to the public on a weekend.
She wanted to know more, but there was nothing about it in the role description. Wynter guessed perhaps there was a dark underbelly to the nightclub scene that wasn’t common knowledge to those outside of certain circles, which included her as long as she still hadn’t signed off on the job. It intrigued her to know she would find out the truth about what was going on behind the closed doors of the club during the week though, and she could tell she was moving closer to accepting the job offer already.
The document then went on to describe how she’d also be moderating private groups and begin buil
ding an online presence, for both the club she was in and Mr Cole’s many others across the globe. Plus she’d be in charge of the marketing campaigns as well as dressing the club in whichever colour schemes she saw fit for whatever occasion.
Now that sounded perfect. Putting her web design skills to use while also being the head of the marketing team was a dream come true. No more monotony of sitting behind a desk working on nothing other than simple designs while those above her got to do the exciting work, and of course take all the credit.
Wynter was ready to know more, and turned the page where she found her anticipated working hours.
“Seven days a week?” she asked in surprise, and looked up at Marcus, who nodded.
“Absolutely. You’ll be working from six o’clock in the evening until two-am every night. We all work those core hours, but others come in during the day as well to do overtime at Mr Cole’s behest. He has asked that you add some specially designated hours to your working week, but they are outlined later,” Marcus replied, still seeming utterly at ease with the terms of her employment, and just how much was expected of her.
“And what’s the setup there?” Wynter replied, thinking how working every evening was going to be hard work, especially if she had to be up and out again for nine-am to go and work at her other job. She needed as much money as she could get, but it was doable, at least for a short while. She’d be able to work both jobs until she had enough money saved, or until her probationary period was over. Once she knew whether or not she wanted to stay with Mr Cole she could easily quit one job or the other.
“Later,” he insisted, and Wynter dropped her gaze back to the page, figuring it’d be pointless to waste time pursuing it when all she had to do was keep reading.
She took a moment to let the details sink in. The job seemed wonderful. The hours long, but acceptable. The club was prestigious and after working here, she’d have her pick of future placements. Slave was somewhere everyone she knew would die to work in, and she’d kick herself for not jumping at the chance to work there. Even the people were lovely, or at least the few she’d met so far.
Wynter knew there had to be a catch somewhere. She had to keep looking. Keep reading between the lines. She turned another page and frowned when she found more details regarding the level of commitment expected by the company.
“No sick days and no annual leave?” she asked, shaking her head. “Surely it’s the law to provide those things?”
“Not if mutually agreed,” Marcus countered, “Mr Cole wants to know every corner of his domain is covered at all times and doesn’t want to have to employ temps or cover absences. You’re to turn up every day without fail, or else face dismissal. Your salaried pay will more than make up for it. Keep reading.”
Wynter didn’t like the sound of their absence policy one little bit, but she held her tongue and did as Marcus had asked and carried on through the lengthy contract.
When she reached the next page outlining her proposed pay, she was surprised to find the box blank where her yearly wage should be.
She looked up at Marcus and frowned. “This part is up for negotiation,” he informed her before she could ask. “How much do you think you’re worth?”
Wynter gulped and gawked at him, but it appeared he was entirely serious and was ready to hear her answers before providing his counter offer. She knew she had to propose more than she’d anticipated to allow for some room to barter and so doubled her current salary and then doubled that too, just for good measure.
“One hundred thousand pounds per annum,” she announced, thinking it ludicrous, but without hesitation Marcus fixed his immense gaze on hers again and nodded.
“Done,” he replied before throwing her a pen. “Write it in there and initial it.” Wynter grabbed the pen and went to do it, but then looked back to him and chewed her bottom lip for a second while trying to figure out the best way to ask if she ought to have demanded more. She didn’t want to appear greedy, but figured she might as well get the best offer she could. “Something wrong?” Marcus teased and it was clear he knew exactly what was on her mind.
“How much do you think?” she replied, her voice a little shaky.
“I’m glad you asked,” he said with that smile of his again. “The budget is two hundred thousand. As long as you said there or beneath it, I was advised not to negotiate.”
“Perhaps I could make a counter offer then?” she asked him, mirroring his smile.
“I think rounding it up to two hundred would be more than acceptable, but don’t tell Mr Cole I told you so,” he told her, having known exactly what she was going to say.
Wynter wrote the numbers and initialled it with a shaking hand. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it’d be like to earn that kind of money, but she clung to the idea all the same. This might actually be happening. It might really be real.
She was about to turn over onto the final page when Marcus reached forward and put his hand over hers so fast it was like a blur. Wynter would normally pull hers away whenever someone touched her like that, but this time, she didn’t. Instead, she peered up into his eyes again and took a steadying breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him, her voice a mere whisper.
“I’ve a feeling the final page is going to make or break this decision for you,” he said before leaning closer, seeming worried. “I want you to be aware before you read it, and know that, like the rest of it, everything is up for negotiation.”
He lifted his hand away and she turned the page, not knowing what on earth she was to expect to find there. Wynter couldn’t imagine in a business that seemed to thrive on making its employees a fair offer she would find something terrible there, but the look on Marcus’s face told her there was some kind of powerful demand awaiting her. Something that, if she agreed to it, would mean a complete change in how she was going to view her new job proposal.
Three
Marcus released Wynter from his gaze and sat back in his seat, watching her read over the final page with an enforced blank look on his face, but inside his guts were churning with need for her. Would she say yes? Or would she refuse the final proposal and storm out?
Might she like the challenge he’d set out for her and rise to it? He couldn’t tell, but he wanted her to see it for what it was—a promise as well as a test. He knew she was special. There was no doubt about that. He could smell her from across the room and practically taste her scent in the air. Wynter was to be the perfect addition to his now thriving team and he couldn’t wait to make her his. And all she had to do was sign on that final, dotted line.
It wasn’t like he had lured her in either. Far from it. She’d been drawn to his club for a reason. Perhaps one she herself didn’t yet know, and while it pained him to have to wait patiently for her answer, he also knew he had to remain calm and let her have time to react to the specifications outlined on that final page. He’d let her say her bit, and then hopefully she’d tell him yes and sign her life away.
Would they have offered her enough money? Enough security? Had he been a gracious enough host during their time together so far? He damn well hoped so, because he knew that if he failed today, he’d be done for tomorrow. Fresh blood had needed recruiting and he was damn sure that with her beneath him their businesses both legitimate and otherwise would get the revitalisation it so desperately needed.
He was counting on her. That sweet and desperate little thing who so needed what he was more than willing to offer. Wynter was cold and lonely. Shut off from the rest of the world because she’d been broken too many times, but he was going to change all that. Marcus was going to give her somewhere to belong, but only if she agreed to give him what he needed in return.
***
Wynter read and reread the page to make sure she was clear on what would be expected of her if she agreed to the final terms of her employment.
‘The employee is expected to undertake extra duties as laid out by her employer when called upon, and s
hall set aside the hours of 2:01 to 17:59 every Saturday and Sunday to facilitate all tasks as and when given to her by Mr Cole directly. Overtime benefits are negotiable and will be paid accordingly, as well as added benefits for the extra time spent at the companies’ behest.’
“What does that mean? I have to work overtime at weekends?” she eventually asked Marcus, whom she caught glowering over at her from the opposite side of the desk.
It was ever so odd. He seemed poised, like he was ready to pounce or something, and was having to force himself back against his seat.
He let out a gruff sigh and ran his hand through his dark grey hair, clearly disgruntled, but Wynter couldn’t understand why. It seemed clear enough to her, she was just asking for clarification? “I’ll gladly work extra, it isn’t a problem!” she assured him, and then peered down at where she needed to sign and complete their deal.
Wynter waited for a reaction from him before signing the page off, but was met with still stony silence and stared back down at the page. Overtime wasn’t any hassle, plus it was still outside of her other job so would be fine. She could attend some meetings or do extra work if it were required of her, and knew this was what she wanted. No part of her felt ready to refuse this epic deal just waiting to be done, and so she signed her name, completing her contract with Mr Cole and making it final.
Wynter then ran her thumb across the embossed paper and marvelled at the finery of it, but then hissed when she caught the edge and was rewarded with a small paper cut.
The Beginning Page 2