by Lia Lee
She must have paced for a few hours, at the very least. When a knock came at her door, her feet ached and her legs were unexpectedly sore. Peeking through the peephole told her that it was Mrs. Rhodes from across the hall and not an ax murderer, and she reminded herself that was a good thing. She opened the door, because at the very least, she could be polite.
“Hon, it looks like the super's going through and making sure we're using our storage lockers, so you should probably send him a note to say...”
Natalie thought she was doing a good job holding it together, but apparently she wasn't, because her elderly neighbor frowned at her.
“Hon, what's the matter with you? You look like someone drowned your hound dog.”
Mrs. Rhodes's words were so hilariously awful that Natalie had to choke back a horrified laugh.
“Oh God. No. No, nothing like that. It's just...”
The whole sorry tale came out as her widowed, across-the-hall neighbor stood in the doorway. Natalie was vaguely proud that she didn’t cry throughout it, but somehow by the end, Mrs. Rhodes led her to her own apartment, a place she had never been, and settled her onto a couch that was significantly more comfortable than her own.
“And...and I just don't know what to do. I mean, I have some savings, and I can coast along for a while, but what if I don't find a job, or I get sick or...”
Mrs. Rhodes had busied herself in the kitchen while Natalie was talking, and now she returned with a plastic jug of something dark and suspiciously lumpy. She poured out a tall tumbler and firmly handed it to Natalie.
“Things like this, you should have something sweet to help you with the bitter,” she said kindly. “Here, drink up. Sangria's good for you, anyway.”
Natalie didn't know about good for her, but the fruity drink had beautiful, ripe blackberries floating in it. Before she knew it, her glass was empty, and Mrs. Rhodes was pouring her another.
That was when the blurs started getting really bad. She remembered stumbling home after it had gotten dark, and instead of going to bed, Natalie set up her computer and switched on the webcam. At some point, she must have gone to sleep, because she woke up in bed.
It wasn't Natalie's phone that woke her in the morning. She hadn't set an alarm, and the pounding in her head nearly made her turn it off just so she could get a few more hours of sweet oblivion. The thought occurred that perhaps it was Mr. Browning calling to tell her that there had been an enormous mistake, of course there had been, and that she was welcome back as soon as possible.
Natalie blinked at the forty messages on her phone, and then it vibrated in her hands, making her drop it.
What the heck...
Unnerved, Natalie picked the phone back up and opened her voice mail. The message made her dark eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, and with a muttered curse, she stumbled to her ancient laptop. She waited impatiently for the machine to wake up from its sleep mode, and as she did, she belatedly downed some painkillers for her aching head. God, maybe sangria was so good for trouble minds because it just wholesale destroyed them...
The computer was still queued up to the page she had been on last night, a site that was meant to allow people to talk about their accomplishments, and a place where headhunters and employers alike could browse for prospective employees.
Like we were cattle, Natalie remembered thinking. She could remember how desperate and hopeless she had felt sitting down at the computer last night, but what had she typed?
She scanned the page, found the pertinent text, and then as she read, her mouth dropped open and she stared in shock and horror.
“Oh no,” Natalie whimpered. “Oh God, oh no...”
She went to take the ad down, but as her phone rang again, she realized it was far, far too late.
***
Nathan was half-certain that Melissa would have left the restaurant by the time he showed up, but to his surprise, the gorgeous redhead was still at the table his faithful secretary had reserved. Absently, he noted how lovely she was as he walked up to the table, flashing her a smile as he sat down next to her.
“Melissa,” he said warmly. “Look, I'm sorry that I got delayed, I was just...”
“It's about time, you Irish bastard,” Melissa said through gritted teeth. “I didn't want to do this over the phone.”
He had a bare moment to process what she was saying, and then her hand reared back and landed a slap on his cheek so sharp that it momentarily stilled the action of the restaurant. Everyone stopped to see who had gotten slapped, and when they saw that it was him, they quickly went back to their own business, though he knew that they were certainly listening. One of the little perks of his glamorous lifestyle, he supposed.
Melissa must have liked slapping him so much that she reared back to do it again. This time, he had the presence of mind to grab her wrist, looking at her coldly before he let her go.
“If I were you, I would not try that again,” he informed her. “Now do you mind telling me what in the world that's all about?”
“It's about you and five months of missed dates, things being more important than me, nights where you don't come home at all, and ugh.” Melissa shook her head as if she could shake thoughts of him right out of it. She stood, looking down at him with anger.
“I think I liked you better when you were the asshole playboy,” she hissed. “At least you were honest about not being around long and just wanting to have fun. Now that you're all reformed... God, what's the point?”
Nathan had several things he could have said to that, but she was turning around to storm out. He thought about chasing her, but why bother? She wasn't a woman who was easily swayed, and he had to admit she was right.
The waiter somehow managed to get up the courage to approach him cautiously, as if he was worried that Nathan would turn on him like some kind of deadly animal brought to bay.
“Would you like to see a menu, Mr. Thomas?” he asked, and Nathan grinned mirthlessly.
“Nah, just the wine menu, please. Something in a red seems about right for this bloody business.”
The waiter laughed politely, but he returned with first the menu and then a large bottle of something that was almost a claret in color and very expensive. Despite downing most of the bottle, Nathan was mostly in control of himself when they poured him into the back of his Mercedes.
“Where to, sir?” asked his chauffeur.
“Home,” Nathan replied, stretching his long form across the broad back seat. He watched the bright Chicago lights go past as his driver pulled into traffic, his mind unsettled despite the pleasant buzz of the alcohol.
As much as he had tried to block out her words, there was a grain of truth in Melissa's vitriol. He had taken a stab at a normal life, and he had learned that at the end of the day, it wasn't for him.
In his mind's eye, he could see the progression, and he knew Melissa had seen it too. They would date, get engaged, get married, and have a beautiful set of children, among them one that would carry on the Thomas name and fortune. It was a duty and a trust that his father, grandfather and great-grandfather had laid on him, and at age thirty-five, Nathan knew it was time to take it seriously.
However, over the six months he had been dating Melissa, Nathan had come to the conclusion that there was something missing in him. Melissa was beautiful, rich, well-connected. She was everything he should have wanted in a mother for his children and a companion for his life. However, though the passion had been strong at first, it had died quickly, and there was even a small glimmer of thankfulness in the back of his mind that Melissa had ended things.
Nathan realized with crystal clarity that if she hadn't, he would have done so, likely before the month was out, and he had to shake his head in disgust.
There really is something wrong with me, he thought, but then he shrugged. So what? He had never settled for what was normal or boring before. When he had a problem, he solved it, and this was just one more problem to solve. He needed an heir, children,
but there was something in him that made actually living with a woman and being a real lover impossible for him. He lacked the inclination to be a real lover in anything except the most physical way, and if he wanted to reach his goal, he had to find a way around that.
Idly, he thumbed open his phone to catch up on the latest news. A story caught his eye, and almost without knowing it, Nathan found himself drawn in. He laughed at first, because it was ridiculous, but then he read the ad again more closely.
A germ of an idea was starting to grow in his head, and by the time he made it back to the Lake Shore Drive penthouse, he knew he had calls to make.
In the back of his mind, Nathan knew this was insane, but he shrugged it off. There were worse things to be called than crazy, after all.
At the end of the day, he was a man who got what he wanted, and right now, he realized that he wanted Natalie Baker.
Chapter Two
Natalie wished for the thousandth time that she had managed to wake up on time. Instead, her alarm never went off, and she was left scrambling for clothes before she dashed out the door. The end result was that she had wound up dressed in an olive green dress, which she supposed was dull enough to suit any office she might find herself working in. However, either she had gained a few key pounds or the damned thing had shrunk in the wash, because it clung to her slight curves, cutting off well above the knee. Natalie thought she was downright exposed in it, and the lingering leers of the men on the bus only confirmed it. She buttoned the cardigan all the way to her throat and grimly concentrated on what she had learned the night before.
Thomas Corp was a multinational finance firm, and in another world, one where she hadn't sent off the ad she had, she would have been thrilled to get a call from them. Even now, she was willing to go to the interview because the opportunity was too good to miss, but she was already tensed for the worst.
In the two weeks since she had posted her desperate job ad, she had received dozens of calls, and only two of them had been for jobs. Given that those jobs had been at a strip club and a restaurant where the waitresses wore very tight shorts and T-shirts, her hopes were dying on the vine.
She glanced up at the marble statue of the Thomas Corp logo as she walked in. Perhaps they had found her resume off one of the many sites she had posted it on. There was no reason to think that they had seen the job ad she had posted, even if some two hundred thousand people had...
She was escorted to a small room that looked far too cozy for an interview room. It looked more like a library, with a few comfortable chairs here and there, a skylight above, and a small cart laden with a coffee machine and creamer cups nearby.
"This is one of the employee break areas," said the friendly woman who had guided her there. "It's off limits for your interview, but on normal days, employees come here to refresh their minds and their spirits."
That sounded good to Natalie, and after her guide left, she looked around in appreciation. Thomas Corp was a company that she would be proud to work for. Perhaps this wouldn't be too bad after all.
She thought that until the door open and a tall, lean man dressed in a sharp-cut, dark blue suit came in. She blinked. With his black-as-sin hair and bright blue eyes, he could have been a model. What was he doing serving as human resources, even for a company as prestigious as Thomas Corp?
He entered the room as if he owned it, an assured confidence in his gait and posture. He stopped short of Natalie, which made her feel both relieved and disappointed, though she didn't really understand why.
"So you're Ms. Baker," he said thoughtfully, and she nodded, standing and holding out her hand to him.
"Yes, thank you so much for giving me this opportunity," she said, but he cut her off before she could go on.
"You look good," he commented as casually as if he was commenting on the weather. "Turn around."
A faint blush came up on Natalie's cheeks, but she was so stunned by this man's words that she did as he said. With her arms down stiffly at her sides, she revolved in place under his gaze. Perhaps there was a public face duty that went with this position? Perhaps he was making sure she would suit their customers?
Instead of introducing himself, the man watched her with a gaze that she couldn't quite decipher. There was something slightly predatory about it, but buried well underneath the menace and the curiosity, there was something almost sad and wistful about it.
What a strange thing to even think about pitying someone like him, she mused, but then he was stepping closer, so close in fact that she now had to look up in earnest to meet his eyes.
"I have to say, Ms. Baker, your photos did not do you justice."
"Photos...?"
"The ones you posted on your social media," he said smoothly. "Or did you think we weren't going to be checking?"
"Oh, of course," she said, stuttering just a little bit as he circled her. "Um, can you tell me what this position is for? The recruiter was very unclear on the phone."
"All in good time," the man said absently. "I'm still deciding what I think."
She stared at him. She might not have had a great deal of experience in the work force, but she was beginning to get the idea that this was no normal interview.
"I...I think I might need to leave now..." she murmured tentatively.
"No you don't," the man said, still eyeing her as if she were a piece of candy. "You're desperate, you need a job, and believe me, you want to hear my offer."
His offer, as if he owns the company, she thought, preventing her lip from curling with contempt. But...he's not wrong. I do need the money.
She supposed that he had seen the video too, and perhaps hiring her would be a private joke, something he put over on the older, stodgier members of the company.
She was just thinking that she could live like that when she realized he had somehow managed to get around behind her. His hands came down on her hips, making her squeak in surprise.
"You're not very broad here," he murmured. "Birthing might be difficult for you."
"What the hell!" Natalie cried out in shock. She lurched away from him, barely staying upright on her interview heels. She stared at him, ready to spit and claw if he thought he could take more liberties than that.
"Dear God. If I didn't want to work for the restaurant or the...the strip club, what makes you think that I want to work for you?"
"I think that two million dollars might do it," the man said smoothly.
Her jaw dropped, and he only grinned at her.
“Are you ready to listen to me now?”
Natalie wanted to be proud. She wanted to turn on her heel and stalk out, perhaps giving the terrible man the finger before letting the door slam behind her. Instead, she knew exactly how desperate she was. Natalie crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him balefully.
“If you touch me again without my permission, I am getting the hell out of here, and then I'm calling the cops. Bet your boss wouldn't like that, would he?”
To her irritation, the man only laughed, shaking his head. God, he was probably some kind of trust fund kid and never had to work a day in his life. He probably thought her problems were hilarious.
“All right,” he said. “I'll take that as a yes.”
“What in the world kind of job could I take, even here, that would give me two million dollars?”
“You wouldn't be working for Thomas Corp, Ms. Baker,” he said. “You would be working for me.”
“Uh-huh. And what kind of work would I be doing?” She thought she was ready for anything, but still, his next words brought her up short.
“You'd be having my baby and then signing over all rights to me,” he said, and she stared at him.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Natalie was so frazzled she barely noticed the fact that she had basically sworn at her prospective employer.
“Exactly what I said,” he stated so calmly that she wondered if he had rehearsed it. “I've had you investigated. Not a lot of ties, hea
lthy, and of course your references are impeccable. And I have learned that you are available.”
With a slight twinkle in his eye, he showed her the screen pulled up on his phone. She winced when she read the ad she had insisted they post.
Hello world! This is Natalie Baker, and I'm here to tell you that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make it. Maybe you want to be a part of that! Please...please, I'm begging you, be a part of it. I've just been fired, and I need something to hang on to. If you have a job, let me do it! I don't care if I'm an eighteenth-century hat-trimmer or some kind of futuristic...cyborg...assassin thing, I just need someone to give me a job! Take a chance on me! I promise I'll give you everything I've got!
It was ridiculous, desperate and now viral, and she pushed his phone away. She had spent enough time writhing in humiliation at that message, and she didn't need to do it again.
“I saw that, I saw all the take downs and analysis, and I suppose I saw something special in those words.”
“You mean you saw someone so desperate and drunk that she made herself into a goddamn Internet meme?”
“I mean I saw someone at the end of her rope,” the man said, and for the first time, she wondered if he could be kind. “I saw someone who needed help, and I thought perhaps we can help each other.”
Natalie paused, because there was the crux of it, wasn't it? Even the strip club had wanted something from her, something that no one else could provide. She was here for a reason, but as her eyes swept up and down the man's lean frame clad impeccably in a suit that cost more than six months' rent at her apartment, she had no idea what that might be.
"All right," she said. "I'll bite. How could I possibly help you?"
He took a seat in one of the chairs. She couldn't help thinking that there was something lordly about him, utterly authoritative.