“Sit.” He gestures.
I comply. “Salad?”
“I’m full. Why did you run off?”
“I wanted more.” I scoop romaine onto my plate, despite the fact I’m not hungry. “To answer your question, I’m reluctant to talk about Marcus without a deeper conversation.”
“As it happens, he’d like to talk to you, too.” Mr. Force shoves his plate aside and props that intriguing square chin on his big fist. “When he tried to ring your cell earlier, he got a message that your number is unavailable.”
Instantly, my face goes up in flames. “I, um…need to add more credit to my phone. It must have run out during my move and—”
“I’ll take care of it.” He grabs his own device, presses a few buttons, then sets it aside. “You’ll have a new one in the next two hours.”
Certainly he doesn’t mean to keep. “I appreciate you letting me borrow—”
“It’s yours. It will be paid up for the next six months.” He smiles. “That way, when you need to make another call, you don’t use mine.”
I wince. Shit. I forgot to delete my call history. “I’m sorry. I had to check on Renee. She got evicted and—”
“I take it that means you did as well?”
Could this get more embarrassing? “By default. I was only there for two days. I just moved to Boston.”
“Well, maybe things are looking up for you.”
“Maybe.” God, I hope so. “This is the oddest job interview I’ve ever been on.”
“It’s the longest I’ve ever given. Consider it a compliment. I usually know in the first two minutes how long the candidate will last in the chair. You, I’m still trying to figure out.”
“I’ll always do my best to give you what you need and perform above expectations.”
“I have no doubt of that.”
Mr. Force looks like he has something else on his mind, but he drops the subject and glances at the clock on his nightstand. “Shall we dive into the Asian markets?”
“Let me clear the dishes away, then I’ll be right with you.” It will be a treat to see how the famously brilliant Chad Force breaks down emerging financial information. Even if he doesn’t hire me permanently, I’ll have learned something valuable.
But you’ll still be unemployed. And you’ll have to give up your time with this amazing man. Face it, you’re into him…
It’s true. And some part of me wonders if he’s into me, too. It’s nothing he’s said, per se. But I’ve caught an occasional flash of interest in his expression. He got hard when I walked in the room after his shower. And he probes me mentally. Any chance he’d like probe me in other ways, too?
“You can set the dishes in the sink later.”
“All right, but who’s going to do them?”
“I’ll hire someone. You’ve already gone above and beyond by cooking. I don’t expect you to clean, too.”
“Whatever you say…”
We dive into the data as it scrolls across the screen of his massive TV and pops up on reliable sites. Slowly, we discuss and compile. He’s every bit as interested in emerging markets and technologies as I am. We’re also both keen on international food markets and their yields—anything that may disrupt world stability.
“You see things through the lens of the worst-case scenario,” he observes. “Because you grew up in a single-guardian household and lost your one stabilizing force so young?”
“Probably. Why do you?”
“My father was a bastard who expected perfection and would rain down the wrath of hell if he didn’t get it. I learned quickly to estimate the likely outcome of anything he considered a screwup so I could decide if it was worth the shit he’d heap on me.”
“That sounds horrible. My Grandma Lienna loved me unconditionally.”
He shrugs. “I think my father meant well. He kept that spoon in my mouth from being pure silver.”
“Were you a rebellious teen?”
He snorts. “That’s an understatement. But he finally let up when I beat him at his own game twice—simultaneously.”
“Game?”
“From the time I turned ten, we started each new year with a competition. We’d invest the same amount in the same sector, and whoever had the most money at the end of the year got bragging rights. When I turned nineteen, I finally finished on top. In fact, I wiped the floor with his ass and I never lost again.”
Impressive. By all accounts, his father had been a reknowned wealth builder. “What was the other game?”
He raises a brow at me, his grayish eyes now a sparking silver. “I seduced his mistress out from underneath him. I think that rankled him even more.”
I’m not as shocked as I probably should be. “You know that’s horrible and disgusting?”
“I dealt with him in the only way I knew he’d understand.”
“You’re not what I expected.”
“You thought I’d be uptight and cold. Self-centered. A tyrant.”
“More or less.”
“You’re not what I expected, either.”
That makes me grin. “You expected I’d be young and naïve. Inexperienced. A twit.”
He sends me a lopsided smile that tells me he’s teasing. “Maybe a little.”
I’m having more fun sparring with him than I should, and if he hires me, I have a feeling days in the office won’t feel much like work, but for now I clear our plates from the card table and stack them in the dumbwaiter, carefully sending them down. Then I follow to unload them.
Mr. Force said not to bother washing them, but it’s hardly a chore to shove them in the ungodly expensive dishwasher of some unpronounceable European brand. The cooking pans I did by hand before I went upstairs.
Since I also managed to toss together a quick, no-bake pie, I cut two slices and send it up the dumbwaiter, along with forks and napkins.
As I’m brewing a pot of coffee in the kitchen, the lock on the front door clicks again. Moments later, I hear footsteps and turn to find Marcus Hunt standing in the kitchen.
“Here’s your phone.” He hands me a brand-new iPhone, along with a screen protector and a case. “It’s already been programmed. Your new number is written on the back of the box.”
“Thank you.”
He sizes me up with a dark stare. “You know he’s probably going to hire you.”
“That’s my goal.”
“And I think it would be a mistake.”
I bristle. “I’m perfectly qualified for this position.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m good at reading people, and I don’t trust you.” He surges closer, getting right in my face. “Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t thought about him sexually.”
“That’s insulting,” I say, though I can’t stop the flush that splashes my cheeks. “I’m completely professional, Mr. Hunt.”
“You might be, but your thoughts aren’t. More problematic, neither are his. He doesn’t need you distracting him.”
“I’m only here to help.”