Silence greeted me. When I raised my head, I instinctively knew I’d hit a raw nerve. She’d paled beneath her natural skin tone, and there was an appearance of defeat… no, not defeat. Pain, anguish, alarm, maybe.
How intriguing.
I steepled my fingers under my chin and waited. Seconds passed, and her expression changed to one of pleading. She wanted me to let this go. Her face begged me to ask another question. A different one. Too bad. I wanted an answer to the question posed.
“Is there a problem?” I asked, narrowing my eyes, forcing the issue.
She shook her head, the movement barely perceptible. “I needed a change,” she said, her voice so quiet I could barely make out her response.
I barked a laugh. “Bullshit.”
Her eyes snapped to mine. I expected to see submission. Instead, they held a hint of defiance. I shifted in my seat as my cock twitched with interest. Damn, that’s fucking sexy.
“I’m here for a job interview, Mr. Somers, nothing more. If the price of admission is to lay my soul bare, then I’ll bid you good day.”
She got to her feet, set her shoulders in rebellion, laid her coat over her arm, then slung her purse diagonally across her body.
She’d barely taken a step when I found myself saying, “I can’t offer you the job you’ve applied for, Ms. Adams. You don’t have the necessary qualifications. I can, however, offer you a different position.”
She drew to a halt then pivoted slowly. “And what kind of position would that be?”
I pointed to the chair she’d vacated. She hesitated, then sat, knees together, spine erect.
“Like I said, you’re underqualified for the job you applied for. Your agency shouldn’t have sent you here.” I scribbled a note on my pad to find out who that was. Last time I’ll be using them.
“Don’t blame the agency, Mr. Somers. I begged them to send me. This is the twentieth position I’ve applied for, and I admit I was desperate.”
Her sudden candidness seemed to surprise her as much as me because her eyes widened.
She distracted herself by picking nonexistent fluff off her skirt, avoiding the sharpness of my gaze. “I’m smart and I’m diligent, Mr. Somers. All I’m asking for is a chance.”
I let the silence linger while tapping my fingers on my desk, waiting for her to lift her head. When she did, I nodded. “We have an apprenticeship program that’s garnering a lot of attention,” I said, keeping my tone matter-of-fact. “It’s aimed at those without a degree, but with enough hunger to do whatever is necessary to succeed. There’s a set of tests you’ll have to do, but if you pass them, then I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.”
She pressed her palms to her cheeks. “Really? Oh, my goodness. You won’t regret it, Mr. Somers. I promise.”
I ignored her gushing response to my offer, although it secretly pleased me. “I’ll have a link to the tests sent to your email address. You have twenty-four hours to complete them. Don’t underestimate how difficult they are, or you’ll fail.” I stood, signaling the end of the meeting.
Christa rose to her feet and held out her hand. “Thank you.”
We shook, and a shiver of delight rushed through me. I held on for a second longer than appropriate, but she seemed not to notice.
I watched her as she left my office, closing the door behind her. I walked over to the window and waited. Five minutes later, she appeared. She raised her hand to flag down a cab, then changed her mind. She set off in the direction of the subway, and when she did a little skip, I couldn’t stop my lips quirking up at the edges.
Looking forward to seeing more of you, Ms. Adams. Much more.
5
Christa
I bounced Max on my lap trying to settle him down, but nothing seemed to work, and he was too upset to tell me what was wrong. He’d been cranky since yesterday, and I wondered if he was coming down with a cold. It had been damp and miserable for a few days, so it wasn’t a huge stretch to think he might have picked up a virus. I placed my hand against his forehead. He felt warmer than usual, so I took his temperature. It was slightly elevated, although nothing to worry about.
Another loud wail almost burst my eardrum. I stood with him in my arms and paced around my small living room, rubbing his back. “There, there, baby boy. Momma’s here.” Not that Momma was having much luck soothing him. I padded into the tiny kitchen and grabbed some children’s Tylenol. After a little wrestling, I got a spoonful into him.
It took thirty minutes, but the medicine seemed to do the trick, and Max fell asleep in the crook of my elbow. As carefully as I could, I laid him down in his crib and stroked his hair until I was sure he’d settled, then crept back into the living room. I opened the lid on my laptop and checked out the email program. It had been three days since I’d submitted the tests sent by the HR department at Somers Tech, and… nothing. If I didn’t hear from them soon, I’d have no option but to start up the hunt for a job again. Urgh, what a depressing thought.
Although my initial reaction to Dayton Somers had been to run—mainly because the power he’d exuded reminded me far too much of Sutton—I actually dared to get excited about the opportunity he’d offered. But now I couldn’t help wondering if I’d flunked the tests. He’d made it clear that he’d predicated the job offer on me passing them.
I set the laptop to one side and nibbled on my lip. I had to get this job. I needed it. I got to my feet and paced. Maybe I should fire off an email querying the results. I returned to the couch and searched for the original contact email My heart plummeted when I spotted No Reply. Damn, they’d sent it from one of those mailboxes that wasn’t monitored. I picked up my cell phone intending to call, then lost my nerve. I had no choice but to wait. And hope. And pray.
In search of a distraction, I decided to cook a batch of baby food. I preferred to make my own, rather than rely on those found in the grocery store. They were a good fallback, and one I’d be forced to use a lot more when I started full-time work, but while I had time on my hands, I’d rather know exactly what was going into Max’s food.
There wasn’t a lot of workspace, but I laid out the ingredients and started cutting up the vegetables. Halfway through chopping carrots, a knock sounded on my door. I set the knife down then wiped my hands on a towel. Whoever it was knocked again.
I dashed to the door before a third knock woke Max. If he was coming down with something, then he needed his sleep.
I looked through the peephole. A woman stood there. For a second, I didn’t recognize her, and then my pulse jumped. It was the same lady who’d been sitting outside Dayton Somers’ office, likely his PA. Oh my God, this could be it, although if she was here with a formal offer, it was an odd approach. Then again, Dayton Somers struck me as a strange man, especially for one so young. Thirty-two if his Wiki page was accurate. Yep, I’d checked. Who wouldn’t?
I drew back the door. Stay cool. Let her do the talking. “May I help you?”
“Ms. Adams. I’m Angie Walker, Mr. Somers’ PA.” She held out an envelope. “Mr. Somers asked me to bring this by personally.”
I frowned. It was far too thin to contain an employment contract. I took it from her. “Thank you.” I went to close the door, but she stopped me, with her foot of all things. Bewildered, I simply stared at her.
“He asked me to wait for an answer,” she said by way of an explanation, then promptly removed her foot.
My confusion deepened. I slipped my thumbnail underneath the flap and opened the envelope. Inside was a card, six inches by four. I removed it.
Mr. Dayton Somers requests the pleasure of the company of
Ms. Christa Adams
at a gala to celebrate the launch of his latest product, Afterlight.
October 17th at 8 p.m.
Black Tie
R.S.V.P.
My mouth dropped open. Firstly, October seventeenth was tomorrow. Secondly, I had nothing suitable to wear to such an event. And thirdly, what the actual fuck? Oh, and fourthly, I wasn’t g
oing. Even if I wanted to, Max wasn’t well. The whole idea was ridiculous anyway. Even if my baby had been in perfect health, why would I accept such a… a… crazy offer from a man I didn’t know? A man who reminded me of Sutton. Ruthless, blunt, controlling, too used to getting his own way. Exactly the kind of guy who sent me running in the opposite direction. I shivered. “Once bitten, twice shy”, wasn’t that the phrase?
I handed the card back to Angie. “Please tell Mr. Somers thank you very much for the offer, but I’m afraid I’m otherwise engaged.”
I didn’t even allow Angie time to reply—or give her a chance to stick her foot in my door again—before closing it firmly in her face. I pressed my eye to the peephole, watching. She stood there for a few seconds, biting her lip. Then she sighed and walked away.
I blew out a breath I wasn’t even aware I’d been holding. And then crushing disappointment rushed through me. I’d failed. He hadn’t offered me the job. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the door. Maybe it was for the best. Not good enough to work at his damn company, but fine to decorate his arm.
Arrogant bastard.
That left me with only one option: back to the drawing board of searching the internet for jobs and badgering my recruitment agent—if I still had a recruitment agent after failing to get this job.
I fetched my laptop. After searching for an hour and coming up empty, I gave up. It was time I faced facts. I needed work, and if I couldn’t get a job in software development, I’d have to do something else. The thought of going back into the personal assistant field filled me with dread. Dayton Somers proved that guys at that level were all the same. A smooth, professional façade hiding a ruthless drive to win, no matter who they hurt. I shuddered.
Screw him and his job. Maybe I’d been looking at this move out east all wrong. It could be a great opportunity to try something completely different.
With renewed energy, I returned to my job search, this time casting the net much wider. A plethora of choices appeared before me. School bus driver, real estate broker, bartender, waitress. None of these roles were in my preferred field, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The money wasn’t as much as I’d have earned in software development, even at the entry level Dayton Somers offered. I’d have to cut back and move. Living in Manhattan wouldn’t be as crucial, though, and it wasn’t as if I’d made any friends in the short time I’d lived here. I could head out to Queens, or Brooklyn, somewhere cheaper. Maybe even look farther afield into the suburbs.
A lightness spread across my chest. Yes! I could do this. A real fresh start. I applied for seven jobs and closed the laptop with a sense of accomplishment. Tomorrow, I’d apply for more.
I checked on Max. He was still fast asleep, his plump cheeks rosy, his hair damp. I felt his forehead again. Definitely not as hot as before. The medicine must be doing its job. I smiled down at my precious boy, my heart bursting with love for him. In the days following the attack, I was certain I’d miscarry, but my little soldier clung on. Then, following his birth, came the terror that the doctors would find some kind of defect caused by the injuries I’d suffered. Now, two years on, Max was happy, healthy, developing in exactly the same way as any other child. I counted myself among the lucky ones.
A loud banging on my door woke him. He opened his mouth and let out a loud wail, his fists clenched, indignant at being woken up before he was ready. Goddammit. If that was Angie back again, I’d give her a piece of my mind she wouldn’t forget in a hurry. I lifted Max from his crib and murmured reassuring words in his ear. The knocking started up again, and Max’s cries increased in volume.
I stomped across the room, my inconsolable son squalling in my arms. I flung the door open, ready to let whoever was on the other side have it, both barrels.
Except not one word escaped my mouth, because standing in the hallway was Dayton Somers. Suited, booted, and as out of place as a vegan in a steakhouse.
He took one look at the screaming child in my arms, shuffled back a couple of feet, and frowned.
“Ah, um, fuck,” was his opening gambit.
I glared at him. “What do you want?” I shouted over Max’s cries which had progressed into full-on wails.
Before he could answer, my next-door neighbor, a woman I’d barely shared pleasantries with, poked her head around her door.
“Shut that kid up,” she barked. “I’ve got a night shift in three fucking hours.” She disappeared inside, slamming the door.
I sent another dirty look in Dayton Somers’ direction then stood back. He followed the silent invitation and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. If I wasn’t so furious at the manner of his arrival waking Max, I’d laugh. Dayton Somers was clearly used to the finer things in life, and my tiny one-bedroom apartment did not fit that description. His disdain and discomfort were evident.
I left him in the living room and took Max into the bedroom. After I’d rocked, bounced, kissed, and pleaded with him, he finally settled. A few minutes later he’d fallen back to sleep. With infinite care, I popped him back in his crib and tucked the covers in tight, then heaved a sigh.
Time to deal with my unwanted guest.
I found him sitting on the edge of the couch as though to park any more of his expensive suit on such a cheap piece of furniture might result in catching some terrible disease. I snorted a laugh.
“It doesn’t have fleas. I’ve checked.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His response was to sit back, casually resting one ankle over his other knee. Talk about one extreme to another. I sat on the adjacent chair. When he didn’t speak, I figured I’d have to.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry for waking your son.” He quirked an eyebrow. “He is your son, correct?”
I nodded. “Max. He’s two.” I suppressed my shock. I didn’t understand why I’d volunteered that information to a stranger.
“He has your eyes.”
Irritation pulsed through my body at his overfamiliarity. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to comment on my son’s physical attributes, which, by the way, I’d rather you didn’t.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “My apologies.”
Yeah, sounded like it. I expelled a huff through my nose. “The reason for your visit?” I snapped, positive that was the third time I’d asked. I had the distinct impression this man was an expert in swerving anything he didn’t want to answer.
He reached into the inside pocket of his designer suit, cufflinks that probably cost five years’ rent on my dump of an apartment catching my eye.
He pulled out the invitation. “Angie returned with this, and the wrong answer.”
I widened my eyes. “I beg your pardon?”
“Tomorrow is a very important launch for my company. Afterlight will transform the video game industry and the way people play when on the move.”
I had heard of Afterlight. Anyone interested in software development or applications for mobile technology would have to have been living under a rock to miss it. The rumors were that this launch would raise Dayton’s company to dizzying heights—and see him break the top twenty on the Forbes Rich List.
“And that’s important to me because?” I left the question hanging in the air.
Dayton’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Because I was under the impression, Ms. Adams, that you were interested in employment at the very company launching this product.”
Shit. I hadn’t intended for it to come out like that. I meant the gala, not the product. Time to back pedal, Christa.
“I-I am. What I meant was… I mean… I’m not sure—”
“Good.” He dropped the card in my lap. “I’ll have a car come by for you at seven-fifteen sharp tomorrow.”
He rose to his feet, brushing a hand over his pristine suit jacket, while I sat there, dumbfounded. He took three steps before I found my voice.
“Hang on a second. Are you saying my offer of employment is based on whether I accompany you to th
is gala or not?”
He turned around, a wolfish grin causing crinkles to form around his eyes and fear to run riot in my guts.
“You catch on quick, Ms. Adams. That bodes well for progression through the ranks.”
He moved off again.
I dashed in front of him, barring his way. “Even if I was willing to prostitute myself for the chance of an apprenticeship at your company, I can’t go anywhere with you or anyone else, because my son is sick.”
Okay, I didn’t know one hundred percent that Max was unwell, and I wasn’t proud of using him to help me wriggle out of this situation.
Dayton narrowed his eyes and took a menacing step forward. I shuffled backward, putting a few precious inches between us once more. I wasn’t ashamed to admit Dayton Somers scared me. All men in powerful positions intimidated me after what Sutton had done, but that didn’t mean I’d let him walk all over me either. Never again would I allow a man to control me, not even one as formidable as the man standing in front of me now.
“You are not prostituting yourself whether or not you accompany me to the gala. I don’t ever want to hear you use such an ugly word again.”
My face heated from the telling off he’d given me, but I refused to back down. “Okay then, what would you call it?”
He clenched his jaw, drawing my attention to a tic in his cheek. I couldn’t stop staring at it.
“I’d call it a negotiation. I need an attractive woman on my arm, one who offers no complications, isn’t going to spend the night fawning all over me, and won’t expect a fuck at the end of the evening.”
I blanched at his crude language.
He didn’t even break stride. “And you need a job. Sounds to me like a win-win scenario, Ms. Adams.”
I stared directly at him and crossed my arms over my chest. “Did I pass the tests?”
His eyes smoldered as his gaze roved over my face. I didn’t know what he was searching for, but my heart stuttered anyway. This might not have been the first time I’d met Dayton Somers, but I’d avoided looking at him too closely. I’d seen all I needed to in his office, namely a carbon copy of Sutton. But now, standing here in my apartment, I noticed my breathing had escalated and I felt warm, too warm, given the chill. I couldn’t afford to be wasteful with the heating.
Tempting Christa: An Irresistibly Mine Duet - Book 1 Page 3