Please (Please #1) (3 page)

Her eyebrows pinched together as humor danced in her eyes. She glanced down at my hands gripping the desk. “Are you okay?”

“Oh. Yeah. My leg fell asleep. I kind of stumbled out of there.” A grin tickled her lips, so I finished up with, “It was embarrassing.”

The grin widened into a smile. “At least you’ll be hard to forget.” She held up a piece of paper. I limped over, trying to shake my leg out as I reached her desk. “Please make sure I have the correct contact info.” She tapped the paper after she laid it near my hands at the edge of her desk.

As I studied the page, she continued, “Haven’t interviewed in a while, I take it?”

“Oh.” I wiped my forehead of moisture as I straightened up. “I have, actually. A lot. But not for a CEO. Or, you know, someone that…intense.”

“Ah.” The woman continued to survey me. I had a feeling there was a joke hovering in the air, and the fact that I wasn’t in on it meant I was probably the punch line.

Time to go.

I pointed at my number on the piece of paper. “That’s correct, but, unfortunately, it isn’t turned on at the moment. Email would be the best way to reach me. Or Skype. I have Wi-Fi in the apartment.”

“Yes, of course.” She turned to her monitor. Her fingers flew over her keyboard, making a note. “We’ll let you know within three business days.”

“Oh, great. Thanks,” I mumbled. I gave her a departing smile and walked from the area, my limp now decidedly less noticeable. It wasn’t until I was walking through the building’s lobby that I realized I hadn’t even offered to help clean up Mr. Carlisle’s desk. I’d spilled half the contents to the ground, and then run from the room.

I closed my eyes and moaned at my stupidity. It was, quite possibly, the worst interview I’d ever had. I’d gone on a tirade about my situation and my constant rejections from other employers, something a person should
never
do with a prospective boss, and then told him about the stupid details of my daily life—I even told him about my money problems! That was something I hadn’t told anyone.

“What is
wrong
with me?” I mumbled, having a passerby glance at me in confusion.

It was safe to say that even if I had been on an even playing field with the other candidates, I was not getting a red carpet to that position.

I immediately went in search of a Starbucks.

M
y phone rang
.

In confusion, I glanced over to where it lay at the edge of my bed.

It rang again.

I pushed the computer out of my way and leaned over, seeing “Blocked” on the screen.

It rang a third time.

I hadn’t paid my bill. So why was my phone ringing?

I picked it up and swiped the screen. Putting it to my ear like it might explode, I gave a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Miss Olivia Jonston?” came a woman’s voice.

“Yes?”

“This is Brenda Jones of Mr. Carlisle’s office…”

It had been two days since the interview and I’d tried to clear the whole scene from my head. His face had swum up periodically, as had the feel of his hard body against mine, but other than that, it was a life lesson in how
not
to interview.

I knew I would be getting this call, though—rejection number eight hundred billion and eleven.

“Yes, hello,” I said pleasantly, wanting to get this over with. Closure was always good, after all. It helped a person progress to better things.

At least, that was what I had been telling myself these last two days.

“Hi,” Brenda said. “I wanted to inform you that Mr. Carlisle would like to invite you to a follow-up interview in four days.”

It felt like champagne bubbles worked up the center of my body. A ringing sounded in my head.

“I have just emailed you the particulars,” she continued. “Please read over the materials and get back to me with any questions. Congratulations and good luck.”

I barely got out a “thanks” before the emptiness of a disconnected line descended. I pulled the phone away from my head and stared at it dumbly.

I got a follow-up interview? How did I get a follow-up interview?

“And why is my phone activated?” I said.

My gaze shifted to my computer. A number one in a red oval hovered over my mailbox icon. With shaking hands I clicked on it. The email from Brenda Jones popped up with a list of expectations. I was to report to a different office in the building to take some software tests, which would probably be various Microsoft Office products. When finished, I was to report to Mr. Carlisle’s office with my signed contracts in hand for the follow-up interview. She judged it would take two hours from start to finish.

Butterflies raging through my ribcage, I opened the attachments. The first was a standard contract of employment, binding the signer to remain silent with the sensitive materials when in the company’s employ. The contract seemed general, in that it was for anyone entering employment within the company.

Hardly breathing, I opened the other contract. This was shorter, and infinitely more personal. Mr. Carlisle was named here specifically. In addition, my name appeared instead of “employee.” My “uniform,” such as it was, was a skirt and a blouse, or a dress. No slacks, unless specifically requested. High heels and tights or nylons were optional unless specifically requested. Makeup was optional as well. Again, unless specifically requested.

*
M
iss Olivia Jonston
shall have the right to say “no” or “stop” at any time, and in any situation. She is never to be harmed, bound, muffled, gagged, or given to another, unless expressly desired. In that situation, an amendment must be signed.

* It is mutually agreed that if Miss Olivia Jonston uses her freedom of will to deny Mr. Hunter Carlisle more than five times per month, or for more than three times per month for three consecutive months, possible termination will result.

* Mr. Carlisle may request attendance with Miss Olivia Jonston at any time during work hours, or during a work function, and in any location. However, visibility of nudity by others will be minimized at all times.

T
he list went on
. It was clear Mr. Carlisle had his admin’s comfort in mind within this setup, making sure she was at ease and looked after, but it was equally clear that he was in charge. He called the shots: he said when, how and how much, and he controlled each situation.

Shivers racked my body. I’d never completely given in to anyone. I’d come close with Jonathan, but there was always that element of myself that I’d held back. That I protected. I’d always maintained that little bit of control over my desires, my situation, and my body.

Hunter Carlisle was asking me to give that up.

No, not that I give it up, but that I give it to him.

Fighting the fear and strange shivers, I quickly tapped Kimberly’s name in my phone. It was answered on the second ring. “Oh my God, I’ve been trying to get hold of you!”

“Hi.” I settled back on my bed, away from the contract pulled up on my screen.

“Did you go?” Kimberly asked in a hush.

“Yes,” I said.

Kimberly squealed, a distinctly preteen sound. “I
knew
you would. Although, to be honest, I half thought you wouldn’t, too. If anyone could deny him, it would be you. But I definitely thought you going was a possibility.”

“I got a call back—I’m staring at the personal contract right now.”

“Oh my God,” she said again, the words low and drawn out. “I
knew
he’d see your potential! I talked to a friend of mine, and Mr. Carlisle interviewed about thirty people over a few days. He only chose
three
people to bring back. Usually he chooses five.” She squealed. “Sorry,” she said, out of breath. “I feel like I’m twenty-two again.”

I didn’t mention that she wasn’t much older than that now. “Okay, but the personal contract…”

“What about it?” she asked, calming down.

“I mean…he’s totally in charge. It’s a bit…daunting.”

“The man is
always
in charge. He rules any room he’s in. And trust me, you want him in that role.” She sighed into the phone. “He’s good at it.”

I stared at the computer screen in uncertainty. I didn’t know if I could give someone else complete control over my body, regardless of his ability to take the lead. It was a lot of liberty to hand over to a complete stranger. Especially a man, and
especially
when that man was thinking strictly with his anatomy.

“I don’t know,” I whined, closing the laptop. “I need the job, but I’m just… This just isn’t
me,
you know?
”

“Trust me, it isn’t any of us. Not strictly speaking, anyway. You think a bunch of high-powered, smart, educated women would give up their careers to be an assistant? No way. The business experience his admins get is priceless. He’s a great employer, he pays well, and his name opens doors. Yes, there is this little issue of…naughtiness, we’ll say, but trust me, the way he treats the situation is so calm and run of the mill, and the way he just…
is
. Is he a man you want to say no to? Even in a personal situation?”

I thought back to his commanding presence; to his aura of power and dominance; to his appearance and body. Fire licked at my core.

No, he wasn’t a man I would walk away from. That was part of the problem. I didn’t trust that I could stick to my guns with him. I feared I would lose myself to his desires and demands, and with it, lose all the confidence I’d worked so hard to gain.

“I don’t know…”

“It’s your choice. Think about it. My advice? Meet him again. See what he’s about on the personal side of things. If you aren’t interested, you aren’t interested. No big deal. In the meantime, Daddy has an opening in the IT department. It’s still beneath your education level, but it’s a start.”

A huge surge of hope filled me. Gratitude welled up next. “You begged him, didn’t you?”

The line was silent for a moment before she said, “
Well?
Your talent is just going to waste with no job. You’d be a valuable asset.”

Kimberly had seen me at my wits’ end and tried to help. She was the best sort of person. “I should say no.”

“You can’t say no!” She laughed. “I had to beg him. I told him you might have something else, so I gave you the
out,
just in case. But he’s a good fallback. The boss of the department is a bit stupid, but he works hard and he’s fair.”

“Sounds like a dream,” I said through my smile. “I owe you one. I owe you a million, what am I saying?” Tears of gratitude came to my eyes. Suddenly, the situation with Hunter Carlisle wasn’t as big a deal. I had a fallback. A legitimate fallback that would at least pay me enough to keep me afloat, if I knew Kimberly.

She laughed into the phone. “You are my project, and I will not rest until everyone sees how beautiful and intelligent you are!”

“I don’t even care that I’m your charity case,” I said with glee.

“Okay, stop by my place tomorrow and we’ll set you up with some clothes for both interviews. Because those are the terms—I will only help you if you promise to at least hear Mr. Carlisle out. He would be insanely good for both your career and sex drive. If anything, he’ll help you get back on the horse and stop dwelling on that jerk Jonathan!”

I just smiled. I didn’t know how, but some day, I would repay her!

F
our days
later I entered the huge building downtown in a suit and heels. True to form, Kimberly had set me up with the best her closet had to offer. Even if the outfit was a bit snug in places, and the heels insanely hard to walk in for someone with very little practice, it still looked much better than anything I had.

I’d interviewed with her father’s company the day before, a mid-level organization that did pretty well for itself. The boss seemed to like me, and the green light had already been given, so he’d extended me an offer right there. I would’ve taken it right there, too, so desperate for a steady income I was salivating over it, but I had promised Kimberly. Plus, the offer was for a minuscule salary that would barely cover all my bills. I could survive on it, but it would be a lean couple of years.

I reported to the front desk as before, and signed in. Instead of the top floor, this time I was directed to the thirty-second floor. Once there, I checked in with a clerk and was immediately led into a small room where I was given four tests to complete—three Microsoft Office products and a proofreading test. The proofreading was by far the hardest for me, being from a computers background and heavily using code and spell-check.

When I’d finished, I stuck my head outside the room and caught the clerk’s attention. She glanced up. “Did you have a question?”

“No, I’m finished,” I answered.

With a startled expression, she glanced at the clock on her desk. “Already? You did all four?”

I nodded. “Yes, all four.”

“My goodness.” She smiled as she took my proofreading sheet. “Great. You’re all set. Report to your hiring manager.”

“Thanks,” I said, trying to ignore the butterflies filling my stomach at the prospect of seeing Mr. Carlisle again.

I took the elevator and once again appeared in front of Brenda, but this time, there was no one else waiting.

“Have a seat. He’ll be with you in a moment,” Brenda said as she glanced up.

My breathing became labored and my stomach started to roll again. I’d be confronted with those eyes. I’d see that body, so tall and hard, imagining that it was cut with muscle and defined within an inch of perfection.

I shivered as I clutched my borrowed leather binder, wiping those thoughts from my mind. I had an agenda here today. This was a possible business deal. I needed salary numbers, information on the benefit plan, possible hours I would be working, and other relevant information to the position. I would ignore his good looks and deep, sexy voice, and I would definitely ignore any sexual advances unless I was positive this job was better than my other offer.

I glanced at my phone, peeking out of my purse. My brow furrowed.

I will also ignore that the name on the credit card used to pay my phone bill was Hunter Carlisle.

That was just another controlling tactic, I was sure. I was in charge here.

I nodded with a firm expression, responding to my inner pep talk.

“Miss Jonston, he’ll see you now,” came Brenda’s voice.

My stomach jumped into my throat, then plummeted as though I had just stepped off a cliff. I croaked out a barely intelligible response before moving on stiff legs into the battle room.

So much for that inner pep talk…

Bright light streamed in through the windows and flowed across the wide shoulders of Hunter Carlisle as he sat at his desk, watching me enter.

Clutching my binder just a little tighter, I took a seat in front of him. The
cush
of my leather chair broke the silence.

He leaned back, surveying me. “You’re all business today. And you’ve come better prepared. Gearing up for battle?”

I gulped. In addition to being gorgeous and powerful, was he also a mind reader? Because that was exactly what I had been thinking…

“What’s in the folder?” he prompted.

I opened the leather folder on my lap. On one side was my résumé with the contracts tucked behind, one signed, one not. On the other was a notepad with my scrawled questions. Having it typed would’ve looked nicer, but without a printer, there wasn’t much I could do.

“I just have a few questions reserved for the end of the interview, if I may. Along with the various requested documentation,” I answered professionally.

His gaze turned amused. “Is that so? Well, then, let’s start the interview. You don’t mind if I go first?”

“No. Please.” I gave a stiff nod to match my tight voice, trying to remind myself that he wasn’t in charge of me. Not yet, and probably not ever. Even if I was offered this job, over the other two, no doubt beautiful, women in the running, I would be hard-pressed to take it over my other, safer offer. This was a meeting of minds, nothing more.

“You’ve talked to Kimberly Feely about this position?” he began.

“Yes. She invited me to interview after having ascertained that I was looking for positions outside of my specific skill set.”

His amused eyes began to sparkle. “Eloquent. And she filled you in on the various duties of this position, including those only spoken about in select circles?”