The rise of his brow tells me he’s impressed, but he’s not going to give me the satisfaction of admitting that out loud. This is some kind of game to him, and it frustrates me. He’s amused, while I need to eat and find a place to sleep.
“Tell me about you,” he begins, glancing at the sheet of paper in his hands. “Not what’s on your résumé. None of this tells me what I really need to know.”
I wonder what he’s after, but nothing in his face gives his thoughts away. “I love the financial world because I’m addicted to puzzles and I strive every day to understand what really makes the world turn.”
His smile tells me he likes my answer. “Go on.”
“School was a way of gathering fundamental information so I could get my foot in the door, but bottom line? I believe that working at Force Financial could genuinely teach me what I need to know to excel.”
“I have no doubt of that, but what’s in it for me?”
The primary rule of any sales pitch: Tell the customer why you can be the answer to their problems. I can’t really answer that without more information.
“Why are you looking for a new assistant?”
“Because my last one quit.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Apparently, I’m a workaholic bastard. Who knew?”
“Well, I have no interest in bars, parties, mobile games, or whatever the rest of my peers are into since I’m a workaholic, too. I’m assuming you’d prefer someone like that at your side.”
“Yes, but that’s not all I need in an assistant.”
I try not to squirm in my seat. If he’s looking for sex, I know it’s not smart, but I’m leaning toward sign me up. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t risk his billion-dollar-plus empire for a sexual harassment suit and a piece of ass.
“You require other qualities.”
“Yes.”
And he’s not going to tell me what they are. “You want me to figure them out.”
“Astute of you.” He looks pleased.
Hades chooses that moment to wander into the bedroom with a meow, rub up against me, then leap onto the bed before nudging Mr. Force’s hand, demanding attention. I’m fascinated when the man pets the sleek black animal, who looks back at his human with an expression that suggests he should be grateful for the attention. Then the feline walks in a circle, curls up against Mr. Force’s thigh, and closes his eyes.
“He’s your cat.”
“No. He glommed on to me out of necessity. I tolerate him because he’s a good foot warmer in winter.”
That’s not true, but getting Mr. Force to admit it is pointless. I need to keep driving until I find out what he wants in an assistant. So far, he likes the fact I’m persistent and dedicated, I problem solve, and I have gumption. If he didn’t, I’d already be gone. But there’s something more. I need to figure it out.
“Tell me about the duties this job entails. I’ll be able to better tell you how I can help.”
His crafty stare hints that he’s plotting something. “Let’s do this. Rather than waste time on trite questions and answers, I’ll give you an opportunity to actually prove your worth. A test drive, if you will. If you last forty-eight hours, you’re hired.”
“It’s that simple?”
He laughs. “You won’t find it simple.”
“Are you going to be difficult on purpose?”
“No. But I’ll be myself.”
In other words, he’ll be difficult without even trying. Roundabout and hard to read. Suspicious and constantly testing me.
It’s a good thing I’m up for the challenge since I need this opportunity.
“If you make it the entire forty-eight hours, I’ll pay you twenty-five hundred dollars. Deal?”
Has he gone mental? “Over a hundred fifty-six dollars an hour?”
“Good to know your math skills work. If you merely worked eight hours for each of the next two days, you would be correct. But that’s not realistic for the needs of my business. The world economy is constantly turning, Ms. Blythe, so this is an every-hour-of-every-day job. That breaks down to roughly fifty-two dollars an hour for each of the next forty-eight hours. What do you have to say to that?”
He thinks I’m going to object, and he’s dead wrong. I’ll need to get more credits on my phone if he’s going to call me at all hours of the day and night. And I’ll need to find a place to live. A meal might be nice, too. As much as I hate it, I’m going to have to eat through the last of my savings, but if that’s what it takes to stick it out for the next two days, I will.
“That sounds fine. I’ll give you my number, and you can call me as soon as you have a project or assignment—”
“No. You’ll need to stay here.”
Is this some lewd come-on after all? Not that I’d want to object if he made a pass at me, but trying to coerce me is a hard no. “Mr. Force?”
He smiles at the sharpness of my tone. “Since I had my knee scoped last week, I’m too unsteady on my feet to get back and forth to my office. My housekeeper has been on vacation since before the surgery. I need assistance that’s not merely the traditional office kind.”
That explains why he’s home and in bed, rather than in his fancy downtown office. I really don’t know why he didn’t hire a nurse to help him if Wendy is gone, but I’m sure he has some reason. The crazy-rich are often eccentric.
On the other hand, I know where I’ll be sleeping for the next couple of nights. In his incredibly luxurious row house isn’t at all bad. Renee would flip if she could see this place.
“That’s no problem. How can I help you first?”
“Do you need to go back to your place and grab a few things? I can hire you a driver to do that if you promise to be back in an hour sharp.”
I can’t promise that for two reasons. First, my suitcase with all my worldly belongings is in Renee’s car parked outside the fast-food restaurant where she’s working. I didn’t know where else to stash it since I had no idea this morning that she’d wake up to an eviction notice for non-payment of rent. Second, I can’t vouch for Boston traffic. It looks far more brutal than anything I grew up with in small-town Indiana.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Mr. Force looks as if he wants to probe my statement and ask a thousand questions. He doesn’t. “But you’ll need a toothbrush, a change of clothes…”
Maybe there’s a drugstore down the street where I can grab a fresh toothbrush. Thankfully, the little bit of makeup I possess is in my purse. I’ll wash out my underwear each night and sleep naked. “I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Make a list of what you need. I’ll have it here within the hour.” He passes me a notepad and a pen, his hands strong with pronounced veins and long, tapered fingers. Is everything about him just naturally sexy?
“Thank you. I’ll keep it short.” I jot down a few simple items, then pass the paper back to him.
He scans what I’ve written impassively, then reaches for his phone, texts something to someone, then sets the device aside. The gravity of his undivided attention falls on me again. “Anything else you need before we jump in? Some water? A stretch? A trip to the restroom?”