“Step forward,” Mathew instructed. “I’ll pull your employee files, and then we’ll interview. The rest of you can go back to your desks. I know everything is in flux right now, but I can assure you, Mr. West has all my confidence. I suggest you give him yours as well.”
Libby swallowed back her breakfast that felt as though it was revolting from her stomach and inched toward the front of the room as almost everyone else exited. Did she have an employee file? Would this be the moment the truth came out?
“Name?” Mathew asked her as he flipped open a laptop and clicked around on the keys.
“Libby—” she stopped abruptly, “Liberty Saint-Jane.”
He clicked a few more keys and then hummed as he read. “Impressive performance reviews over the last five years.”
She hadn’t even known she’d had performance reviews. “Thank you, sir,” she forced out.
“You have good global exposure, and the projects you’ve managed are in line with some of what Mr. West is looking to move toward. Why don’t you have a seat? The rest of you can leave your names here and I’ll check back with you after this interview if it’s necessary.”
Libby sat down in the chair across from Mathew and reminded herself that her roots were in acting. Jessica had made her look the part, and now it was time to act. Obviously one of these other candidates would interview far better than she would, and with any luck she could slip out of there. In the mass changes going on in the company her paycheck might keep coming. Maybe it would go unnoticed.
“These glowing reviews speak for themselves,” Mathew said as he continued to scan the documents on the screen in front of him. Libby couldn’t imagine what might be written on them, considering she’d never worked a day in this office. “I’m going to tell you the truth, the hub that you are attached to in Europe doesn’t seem to be serving much purpose, so I don’t think it will survive the changes we are intending. I want that to be clear as we talk about this new role. It’s not necessarily a matter of staying in your current position. I thought it only fair to let you know that.”
“I understand,” Libby said flatly, though inside she was shivering with fear. She had intended on getting dismissed from this interview the way someone might be asked to leave jury duty. Thanks for coming, but we don’t need you. Go back to whatever you were doing. The problem was she wouldn’t be able to go back to what she was doing. It was this job or no job. It was this job or her mother would have to be moved out of the facility she loved. Her brother would not be able to stay in college without the extra money Libby sent him. The mortgage wouldn’t be covered on the house. A pain in her stomach spread like fire through a pile of hay. Every second of this morning had taken her by surprise. If she’d been asked an hour ago if she would pretend to be qualified for an executive assistant position to the highest person in this company, her answer would have been an unequivocal no. Of course she wouldn’t dig the hole she was in any deeper. But now faced with the reality that it was this job or no job, she knew she had to at least try.
Mathew stayed fixed on the computer screen. “So I’m only going to ask you two questions. First, why did you stay in this room? You’ve been with the company a while, is that it?”
Libby thought back to everything that had transpired since walking in the door of West Oil today. She thought of the chatter, of Maryanne’s words and how Mr. West reacted to them. It was time to be the actress she’d trained to be. In college she’d studied for a part in a show that required her to be tough. She remembered how it felt to hold her shoulders high and deliver sniping and direct lines. In real life she tended to talk quietly, nearly in a whisper. She stuttered a bit when her palms began to sweat. But when she hid behind the mask of a role she could be anything. It was the power of acting. She straightened her back and pretended to be completely unafraid. “I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Kalling,” she started as she crossed her legs in the tight navy power suit and placed her hands in her lap, “loyalty and nostalgia are not what’s kept me here today. My interest was piqued. Mr. West seems to have a strong will and a clear head, those are two things I appreciate in a leader. I’m not foolish enough to walk out on a job because my feelings might be hurt.”
She had no idea if she’d hit the mark until Mathew’s coal black eyes raised up from the computer screen, and he unsuccessfully fought a smile. “And my second question,” Mathew continued, looking like he needed to refocus. “How do you deal with difficult people?”
She knew Mathew was talking about Mr. West. How would Libby deal with a man like that? She’d never even been in the presence of a man like that, let alone worked closely with one. He was used to getting his way. He demanded immediate action. When he was backed into a corner, fight or flight, he threw punches. She had plenty of images swimming around in her mind about what she’d like to do with Mr. West, but none would answer this question in a suitable manner. “I deal with difficult people in whatever way gets me what I want,” she spat out, surprising even herself. There was an English teacher in the school she had worked at who used to say that all the time. How do you deal with troubled students? However they need to be dealt with, the teacher would always answer. Libby continued, trying to remember the words that had been used in the teacher’s meeting she’d attended. “I set my goal and then look how I can get there, no matter who I have to deal with to do it.”
“And a man like Mr. West,” Mathew asked in a leading and open-ended way, “he can be—?”
“I don’t scare easily,” Libby lied, plastering a coy smile on her face. She was absolutely channeling Mrs. Morten, the pug-faced teacher who took shit from no one. It had earned her a miserable reputation of being a bitch, but she had some great one-liners that Libby could tap into now. “Everyone can be managed if you know what motivates them.” She raised an eyebrow at him and backpedaled some, remembering her goal. “I’m not sure Mr. West and I would be the best fit for each other, but I do hope there might be some position for me in the company. Perhaps I can take it up with Mr. Wallace.” That was the other man who’d been involved with the deal made years ago. He’d be the only other person who knew that Libby was getting paid to do nothing.
“Mr. Wallace is no longer with the company,” Mathew said offhandedly, not realizing how deep of a cut that made into Libby. Instead, he continued in a surprised tone. “You aren’t advocating to be the assistant to the CEO?” Mathew asked. “It wouldn’t be a lateral move for you, we’d be talking about a very large salary increase and jump in title.”
“A title is just some words scribbled on my office door,” she sighed, piecing together something her grandmother used to say when talking about politics. She was digging deep in her memory to try to form some kind of persona based on the strong people she’d known in her life. “At the end of the day I want to be effective in my job and an asset to the company. Where I do that is a decision for people like you.”
Mathew cocked an eyebrow and looked at her penetratingly. He hadn’t quite figured her out, and she nearly laughed at the notion. She wouldn’t be easy to peg because she was making it all up as she went. She should be a mystery; she was even surprising herself at this point. “Well, you’re either going to help him immensely or be fired in a week. I can’t tell,” Mathew said with a pensive look on his face. “But I guess we’re about to find out. Meet me in Mr. West’s office in fifteen minutes. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Libby stood and took his extended hand for a shake. “Yes sir,” she said with a warm smile. He closed the laptop and tucked it under his arm as he left the conference room, leaving behind a vacuum of nothingness where she stood.
What the hell was she doing? This didn’t even make sense. She couldn’t do this job or be this person. Even if she tricked Mathew, a man like James West, Jr. would surely see right through her. She’d insulted him earlier and was pretty sure she’d be a puddle of lusty mush in his presence anyway. At twenty-five feet away with a few dozen people between them, she couldn’t e
ven keep it together. How was she supposed to sit across from him in his office and think of anything besides what he was capable of in bed? She had fifteen minutes to get her head straight. She fished in her purse for some quarters. There had been a vending machine in the lobby downstairs. There was only one thing that would help right now. Chocolate.
Chapter 5
James cracked his knuckles and rolled the ache out of his neck. Aunt Marissa had been right. People’s pride outweighed their willingness to follow him down this new and difficult path. He had to keep chanting in his mind to stay the course, keep focused.
He thought maybe he was cracking up. He wasn’t positive, but he believed he saw that same woman standing at the back of the conference room this morning. Flashes of her soft cheek or heart-shaped face would peek out from between people, and he’d lose his train of thought for a moment. But he’d gotten too frustrated by the end of the meeting to find out for sure.
Maryanne had rattled him. She’d had a way of doing so from the time she started working for West Oil many years ago. She had that inexplicable ability to cut straight through bullshit. With eyes in the back of her head and a nose that could sniff out a lie, she made his teenage years difficult. She was another one of those women who’d filled in when his mother had been too sick. Seeing her walk out today was a blow.
He grabbed the phone on his desk and dialed the Human Resources department.
“I want to make sure that anyone leaving today from lower level management positions is given severance.” He dropped his head down and thought of how many of them had spent countless years working hard for West Oil. Pushing them out of the company wasn’t enjoyable. It was necessary. If he was going to accomplish the loftiest overhaul of a billion-dollar oil company in history, he’d need people who would back him up, follow his instructions without hesitation. This was evolution; some people couldn’t adapt. “I know what I said. I’ve changed my mind. Go by years with the company and performance over those years and make sure we treat them fairly. Anyone needing a recommendation at their next employer, have them call me personally. Maryanne Biseth . . .” he hesitated, picturing the disappointment in her eyes, “double hers. Make sure she’s taken care of.”
“Mr. West,” a mouse-like squeak called from his doorway and jolted him to attention. He should have shut his door before dialing the phone. He wasn’t sure how much of his conversation had been overheard by . . . by the woman from this morning, who was now standing in his doorway looking as delectable as earlier that morning.
“Yes?” James asked and hung up the phone, feeling like the woman had walked right out of his recent fantasies and into his office.
She shot her hand out. Had she changed her mind? Was she here to lock the door behind her and slide her body over his? Would she slide herself under his desk and pleasure him until the overwhelming mountain of bullshit from this day seemed manageable? If that was the case, starting this encounter with a handshake seemed strange. But anxious to touch her, he took in her tiny wrist and the gold that dangled around it. A cheap piece of costume jewelry with an engraved locket dangling down. The burn was still pinkish red. His eyes moved up her silky arm, took in her slim shoulder, and finally his eyes met hers. She fluttered her lashes and somehow looked even sexier than she had this morning.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” she apologized. “I’m glad to hear you changed your mind about the severance packages.”
“Excuse me?” he asked, feeling a blaze of heat crawl up him. The pieces of this puzzle might as well have been scattered across the earth. Nothing was making sense. Did she work here? Was she here to hookup? His body needed answers before he burst.
She stared back at him, stunned, pressing her lips together tightly. “Sorry,” she said, yanking her hand away and backing up sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to listen in.”
“It’s fine,” he said, staring down at her slight and soft body. He was hungry for her. Starving. The navy suit she had on now was form-fitting and the silky cream shirt scooped low enough to see a hint of her cleavage. Just a hint. “I’m more concerned with our interaction this morning.” He’d intentionally left the comment without much framework. He wanted to see what she had to say about it.
“I didn’t know who you were,” she said, choosing ignorance as a defense.
“Luckily my ego doesn’t bruise easily.” He smiled back. “The leader of a company normally wants to be recognized by his employees. You are an employee?” he asked, feeling like her answer would be the pin that popped the growing balloon in his chest.
“I am, but I recognize you now,” she sang with a tiny smile. The disappointment ripped through him. Why did she have to work here? Why did he have this unwavering rule not to sleep with employees? And what the hell was it about her that was driving him so crazy? He could not for the life of him figure this woman out. Was the flutter in her lashes meant to turn him on? James always prided himself on being able to read people. It was a skill he actively honed. But she was not clear to him. Not yet.
“I’m Liberty Saint-Jane,” she announced, forcing confidence into her words. James could tell the difference between someone who effortlessly walked through life feeling assured versus a person who put on a good show. It was like watching someone forcing square pegs into round holes, with enough effort it could be done, but it looked awkward.
“And?” He took his seat behind his desk and continued to eye her curiously. Who are you?
“I’m your new assistant,” she stated flatly, a flash of unease crossing her face. “Mr. Kalling told me to meet you both in here.”
“He only just started the interviews,” James challenged, narrowing his eyes at her. Something wasn’t adding up.
“I suppose I impressed him.” She shrugged and tilted her head like a precocious child.
James divided people up. There were women who were beautiful but dumb. Beautiful and fierce. Men who were dumb but loyal. Or brilliant and back stabbers. He had dozens of these buckets, and he tended to toss people into them in order to be hyper-vigilant against their possible attacks on him or his business. It was important to know if someone was kind but ineffective or blunt and sneaky. This woman however was sending his radar around in circles. She was dressed like a woman prepared for corporate battle. Powerfully put together. But her eyes screamed innocence, naïveté, and unease. If Mathew had given her the job, it would only be because she’d been a qualified candidate, so James wouldn’t question that. But what was this half woman/half child act all about? How could she be both powerful and coy, playful-looking and serious?
He hadn’t seen how bright her lipstick was until it was contrasting against the pearly white of her teeth. The urge to kiss her had him forcefully holding on to the arm of his office chair so he’d stay put.
“Don’t get too excited; you may regret the promotion once we get started.” James grunted for whoever was knocking on his door to come in. The interruption was not welcome. He could have spent the rest of the afternoon analyzing every mannerism she had. Unlocking the puzzle.
“Oh good, you’ve met,” Mathew said as he raced into the office and sat down, propping his computer up on his lap.
“That might be a record for locating a new assistant.” He had to wonder if Mathew had recognized her from this morning as the woman who shot him down and thought this would be a fun show to watch.
“She’s highly qualified, and frankly, if we were going to hire outside the company it would take days or maybe weeks to find someone and onboard them. She’s going to do great,” Mathew said with a smile flashed in her direction. Maybe that was it. Maybe Mathew wanted her. Too bad. He couldn’t have her.
“Tell me, Liberty,” James started as he leaned into his large office chair. “Do you have a family?”
“I don’t,” she answered, looking defensive as though he’d just asked how much she weighed.
“Not married? No children?” James questioned.
“I assumed that was what you mea
nt when you asked if I had a family,” she replied curtly. “You weren’t wondering if I was a nameless orphan abandoned on some church steps with no kin to my name. So my answer is still no. I am not married. I have no children.”
He smiled at her and let his shoulders sink down some. “You’ll excuse my frankness. I’m not trying to pry into your personal life.” Of course he was. “But what I’m here to do at West Oil will require full focus. I need people around me without any baggage.”
“You consider a family to be baggage?” she asked, eyeing him like someone might look at a complicated word problem.
“I’d prefer to ask the questions,” he countered.
With some effort she raised her chin and steadied her back. “I was under the impression the interview was over, and I had the job.”
“Ha,” James laughed loudly. “I trust Mathew’s judgment of your competence, but I’m asking about your commitment.” And he was also fishing for the reason she hadn’t taken him up on his earlier offer.
“I can assure you—” she started but he raised his hand to cut her off. The way her mouth snapped shut obediently excited him greatly. Would a raised hand in bed get her obeying him so quickly?
“No, let me assure you,” he countered, leaning in over his desk. “Any job you’ve ever had in your life will be nothing like this. If you are going to take on this role, then you are mine. Mine completely.” He knew it sounded sexual, and he could tell by her darting eyes and blazing red cheeks that she was interpreting it as such. And that had him rock hard for what felt like the hundredth time this morning. It was a good thing he was back behind his desk where no one could see. “Twenty-four hours a day you will be on the clock.” It was funny to him how just dropping the letter L out of the word clock would be a far more accurate depiction of what he’d like her to be on. “This is a tipping point. What we accomplish in the next two months will determine whether this company will thrive or fail. And failure is not an option.”
The Barrington Billionaires Collection 1 Page 4