A soft knock and the screeching of the door cut through the silence. “Mr. Griffin?”
Laia’s voice was soft like a lullaby. It surprised me, even the first time I heard it.
“Devon, not Mr. Griffin. But please come on in, Laia.”
Laia pushes the door ajar and enters. Her brown eyes quickly meet mine before she drops her gaze to the floor. She keeps it there as she bustles to my desk.
Is Laia shy or just interested in the abstract patterns of my colorful rug? Perhaps she needs to watch her step in those oversized pants of hers.
Laia makes it to the chair positioned on the other side of my desk and sits down.
Her blazer opens as she leans to the backrest, and I see that I’ve judged her figure correctly. She has a perfectly normal waist beneath all that fabric.
Laia crosses her ankles instead of her knees like the other candidates did and arranges her hands into a neatly folded position.
Once settled, she raises her chin.
I might have sized up her body accurately, but I certainly made a mistake, thinking she had brown eyes. Laia’s eyes resemble something between a toffee and cinnamon hue. Like a well-brewed Earl Grey tea with a hint of lemon. There are also tiny yellow dots in her irises that somehow remind me of Cat, my cat.
“May I ask why you wished to interview me?”
Her dulcet tone snaps me out of my thoughts.
Even if her straightforward question takes me by surprise, I don’t mind it. I prefer to come to the point. “I wanted to discuss why you didn’t apply for my PA position?”
Laia licks her lips. “I…I just…”
“Please, give it to me straight,” I say. “I’ve heard enough flattery for one day from the other candidates. It would be refreshing if you tell me things as they are.”
“Very well…Devon,” Laia nods. “I think your company is amazing. All your campaigns have a fresh twist, a small wink to the consumer. But I only learned on Friday that you were looking for interns.”
My brows drift high. “Didn’t you apply to our internship earlier than that?”
I checked Laia’s application, and it said that we received her resume ten days ago.
Laia shifts on her chair. “I didn’t apply myself. Chelsea Anderson, the blonde candidate you spoke to, is my friend. She sent in my documents without my knowledge.”
Okay, so Laia does understand what honesty is. “I see. Interesting. Why is that?”
Laia swallows.
I give her an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, it’s not a crime if you didn’t file your own application. The important thing is that what’s on your paper is true. I assume your degree isn’t a farce, is it?”
Laia’s eyes widen. It makes the yellow speckles drift into a new pattern, almost as if I were watching a kaleidoscope.
“No, of course it isn’t a farce.” Her face moves into a grimace of horror. “I would never lie about my education. I graduated summa cum laude last year.”
“Great.” I nod. “So can you share with me why your friend sent your documents instead of you?”
“To be honest, your company simply wasn’t on my radar when I started my job search. I mostly contacted publishing firms. I didn’t think my profile would be considered at a company like yours. Chelsea had more faith in me.”
“You don’t think a master’s in literature would be useful in an ad agency? Do you know how I founded Hudson Communications?”
“Yes.” Laia bobs her head and begins to recite almost word for word the information published in the history section of our webpage.
She knows how I single-handedly built the company, and even mentions that I worked from my favorite wooden armchair when I scored my first successful project with a significant sports brand.
“I see you did your homework. You’re missing only the small detail about my dog.”
“A dog?” Laia’s cheeks tint a delicate pink that suits her creamy complexion.
Her eyes move to the ceiling as if she’s checking some internal database, then she blinks back at me. “There wasn’t anything about a dog on your website or in any of the newspaper articles I googled.”
“You even googled articles on us? Didn’t you say you learned about your interview on Friday?”
Laia squares her shoulders, which makes her shoulder pads stand out even more. “I might not have applied to your company myself, but I’m very motivated to work for you. So I gathered and digested all the information I could find. What is this info about the dog that I missed?”
“You saw the statue at the reception?”
“You mean the giant, white porcelain bulldog?” She smiles. “It’s hard to miss.”
This is the first smile she’s given me, and it makes her look a tiny bit like Salma Hayek in that old movie she did with Antonio Banderas. “Yeah, well, that’s Hudson. The name of the company comes from him. He was my dog. He died four years ago.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss. Losing him must have been hard.”
Laia’s reaction surprises me. I mentioned Hudson during all the other interviews, and none of the women reacted empathically like this.
“Well, it wasn’t easy at first. But having Hudson at the entrance and petting his head each day before heading up to my office keeps his memory alive.”
Laia’s mouth moves into a circle. “You caress that statue every morning? That’s…”
“Weird? Childish?”
Why did I reveal this personal detail to her? It must have been the compassionate glint in her eyes that made it slip.
“I wanted to say sweet and unexpected.” Laia smiles.
I’d like to inquire what she means by unexpected, but I realize we’ve deteriorated from our original topic, so I steer the conversation back. “You prepared well for your interview, for which you didn’t apply. Does that mean you would like to work for us?”
My hunch that Laia could be the perfect assistant is cementing with each minute.
She has a good degree and an excellent memory, which she demonstrated when she chanted, ipsissimis verbis, my company’s mission statement. She’s honest, seems modest and kind, and is definitely not here to tempt me. What more could I wish for?
“Yes, I’d love to be your copywriting intern.”
“And not my assistant?”
Before Laia can answer, my cell phone buzzes.
“Excuse me for a second.” I stand up and walk to the corner of my office, then press reply. “Hi, Sarah.”
“Hi, Devon. I’m calling to give you my impressions of the two candidates for the creative department. I’d come up in person, but there is an emergency with one of the training schedules, so I’m a little short on time.”
“No problem, just tell me on the phone. How did Laia and Fu do? What’s your verdict?”
A slight creak behind me tells me that Laia must’ve heard her name, and she may have shifted her chair in an attempt to eavesdrop.
Sarah clears her throat. “I think the woman is the better option. But the man isn’t bad, either. If we had two intern positions, I’d take them both.”
I exhale. “I see. Well, we might find a way to get around that. What about the accounting internship? Do we need to repost that position?”
“Not necessarily. I know Chelsea Anderson applied for the PA position, but I think she would be a great fit for the accounting internship with her business degree. Plus, she knows a lot about how our company is run, given that we featured in her thesis work. So, unless you really want her for your assistant, we could make her an offer.”
I scratch my head as the image of the attractive blonde flashes through my mind. Her manners were too coy for me to consider her as my PA, but her resume was valid, and she might spice up the accounting department with her tight pencil skirt. That wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
“I think I have a better candidate in mind for the PA job, and I trust your judgment, Sarah. Go ahead and propose Chelsea the accounting position. I’
ll get back to my interview now. Thanks for checking in.”
“Of course, Devon. Thanks for your time.”
Sarah hangs up, and I turn to Laia.
She peers up at me while frenetically chewing on her lower lip. “That was your HR manager, right? What did she say about my interview?”
I slowly amble back, but instead of sitting, I circle around to stand in front of Laia. I lean my hips on the desk and cross my arms in front of my chest.
I could easily lie. If I tell her that she wasn’t accepted to our creative department, she might be happy with the PA position. After all, she did say she would like to work for my company.
The thing is, I don’t want to dupe her.
If she decides to work for me it must be because the job sounds interesting, not because it’s her only option. Otherwise, she might not put the dedication and zeal she showed me a glimpse of into her new duties.
“Sarah said you’re her preferred candidate. However, were you to choose another option, like working for me, Fu would get the internship. He was good too, but you’re Sarah’s first choice.”
Laia’s face illuminates. “That’s amazing. Does it mean I get the job?”
“Yes, unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you decide that you’d prefer to be my assistant.”
A confused frown settles on Laia’s face. “You have five women practically dying to work for you. My friend, Chelsea, for example…”
“Your friend will be offered an internship in our accounting department, and I assume she’ll take it because I already told her that she isn’t suitable to be my PA.”
“Wait, you ruled out Chelsea?” Laia sounds like she can’t believe what I’m saying. “But…she would have been perfect.”
I smack my lips. “I think I’m in the position to decide who would be the perfect candidate. And I don’t think it’s your friend. By the way, I ruled out all the other candidates too. Except you.”
“Why me? I’m not more capable than the others. I might not even have the skills you’re looking for.” Laia shakes her head. The hairpin keeping her dark locks in an up-do gives way, and her hair comes cascading down.
Wow, does she have long hair.
Her mane reaches below her elbows and with it down her similarity to a young Salma Hayek is no longer an opinion—it’s a fact.
“Can you read?” I ask.
“Of course I can read,” she snaps at me with an almost offended tone. She starts twirling her hair and fastens it back up into a low ponytail. “How do you think I got through my degree without reading?”
I let out an amused snort. Laia tilts her head, and her lips curl up as she realizes I’m teasing. “But I make terrible coffee.”
I wave. “To be honest, my secretary takes care of that. It was only a jest I made to cover up my preference for female assistants in front of Fu.”
“Why female assistants?” Laia inquires.
I shrug. “I find that I work better with the opposite gender when under pressure. My assistant will see me sweating over deadlines. Women tend to deal with my grumpy self better than men do.”
“So, you’re saying you’re a grumpy boss? It’s not exactly the most attractive argument in favor of this position.” Laia tries to hide her smile.
I chuckle. “You’re right, it isn’t. Let me tell you what you’ll be doing if you decide to work for me. You won’t be handling my administrative tasks, that’s done by my secretary. As my assistant, you’ll do extensive research to build new client portfolios. There will be a good chunk of writing involved, because you’ll need to prepare client briefs, write proposals, and support current projects. You’ll also help control my public image, so preparing my speeches and press communication will be your responsibility. Finally, you’ll act as a filter for anything that reaches me, so all internal reports will be first read by you, and you’ll provide me with your key takes on them.”
Laia’s eyes widen as she listens.
I can tell that she didn’t even read the PA job description. She’d merely assumed it was boring phone-answering, calendar-tidying work.
For someone who studied my company’s entire website by heart, it seems an incongruent behavior.
Why wasn’t she as thorough with this part of her application as with the rest? Was it because she didn’t want to compete with her blonde friend? That’s the type of thing my sister would do for her besties.
I raise a finger to drive home the final two arguments. “All in all, I’d say there will be more creativity and writing involved in what you would do than what Fu, assuming he gets the internship, would get to see during his five months in my company. Don’t forget the assistant position has long-term potential, and it’s better paid than the other two internships.”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t done many job interviews. I might not know the rules but…” Laia furrows her brows. “Are you supposed to be selling me this position? Isn’t it usually the other way around?”
“Not all interviews unfold identically. I’m a pretty peculiar CEO.” I shrug. “Let this encounter be your first taste of that. What do you say? Would you like to become my assistant?”
“If I say no, will I still be able to do the internship in your creative department?”
It’s not the answer I was hoping for, but if that’s what she wants… “If you say no, it won’t influence the outcome of your interview with Sarah.”
Laia’s thumbs roll in rapid sequence around each other, but she doesn’t say a word.
I watch her tensed posture patiently, but I can deduce her answer already. It seems I’ll need to take Katja’s suggestion after all and hire a headhunter to find the right assistant for me. It’s a pity, though. My gut tells me Laia would have been a darned good option.
Chapter 5
(Laia)
I stare at Devon, my thoughts scrambling faster than the Thrust SSC race car in the Black Rock Desert.
What he tells me about the duties I’d need to perform as his PA exceed any expectations I had about the copywriting position. Not at all the tedious job I’d envisioned.
If I work for him, I’d be able to write all sorts of exciting things, not just ad copies. I would acquire much-needed business skills that would improve my hireability for the future. Plus, the position comes with long-term potential and a better salary.
I’ll be able to pay back Alicia and refurbish my entire bedroom in no time.
So why am I hesitant to accept? The decision should be a cakewalk.
Except, for my risk-averse nature, it isn’t. My palms are sweating, and my ears are buzzing like an untuned radio.
Although I’m determined to get out of the rut I’ve been dwelling in since graduation, Devon’s proposal scares me.
With more exposure comes more possibility of failing. If I screw up as his assistant, I’ll be doing it right under the watchful eyes of the CEO.
Am I ready for that?
“Leap and the net will appear,” Devon murmurs.
I jerk back at his unexpected comment. “Excuse me, what did you just say?”
Devon smiles. “It’s something my sister loves to say. Your torn expression made me remember it.”
His phrase strikes a particular chord in me. It reminds me of the Chinese proverb the author of Success Lies Within Us quotes repeatedly in the book.
“Pearls don’t lie on the seashore. If you want them, you must dive for them.”
A determination settles in me.
I’m not going to let my past insecurities corrupt my future. I can perform with flying colors as Devon’s PA. Anything that I don’t know, I can learn.
I clear my throat. “You know, I think my answer is…a yes. I’d like to become your assistant.”
His jaw drops and his eyes bulge, but he recovers fast, clapping his hands. “Excellent. Then, Laia, there is only one thing to say. Welcome on board.”
His enthusiasm makes me realize what I’ve just done.
> I came into this building doubting whether I’d be good enough for a five-month internship, and I’m leaving as the CEO’s PA, the most coveted job among all the candidates.
I should be pleased with myself, but my stomach harbors mixed feelings.
I accepted the job Chelsea originally wanted. What will my friend think of me? Will she be upset?
Devon said he told her she wasn’t the right choice for him, and that Chelsea will be offered the accounting internship. Will she accept it?
Before I dwell on my culpability any further, Devon tears me from it by moving closer and stretching his hand to me.
I jump up to shake it and, in my haste, step on the hem of my pants, losing my equilibrium. My blazer billows out as I trip.
Before I can officially land on my bum, Devon’s hands close around my waist. His palms are firm, and an agreeable warmth seeps from his touch into my ribs, despite the relatively thick cotton of my blouse.
“I’ve got you.” He straightens me back to my feet.
“Uhm, thanks,” I mumble. I don’t dare to blink at him.
My face must look like I sunbathed on the Grand Canyon’s highest peak without protection. At midday.
“No problem. Do you want me to assist you out, or can you manage?” There is a teasing edge to his voice, but his expression is serious.
“No, Mr.—” His eyes narrow, and I correct myself. “No, Devon. Thanks. I’ll be fine on my own.”
His blue irises illuminate when he hears me switch to his first name. He flashes me a smile that would be heart-melting if I were into the all-teeth, plump lips, and dimples kind of look.
Which I am not.
Not one bit.
“I’m glad we’re starting out on a friendly basis,” he says. “I hope our relationship will only improve from here.”
“Sure. I hope so too.” I smile. “I might not have much experience, but I always aim to please.”
My last word comes out with an unintended hitch. I try to stop it from rolling off my tongue, but it’s too late. Even as I pronounced it, I realize my innocent expression could sound ambiguous to a man of Devon’s reputation.
Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love) Page 4