Page 21 of The Date

How much longer can I keep up this charade? What do I do if Rose never applies? I’m beginning to realise that may very well be the case.

My gaze moves to the next one as I reach for it, and my heart skips a beat when I see the name I’ve been hoping to see. Rose Donovan.

I don’t even move past her personal details before I hand it to my sister. “Hire her,” I demand.

Not bring her in for an interview, check her references, ask about her experience or what she can bring to the position. None of the bullshit that you’d typically ask. I don’t give a damn about any of it. I want Rose working for me, end of story.

“Are you fucking with me right now, Bronson?” she growls.

“Nope. She’s the one I want.”

“You barely even looked at it.”

“I don’t need to,” I say.

Violet releases a frustrated huff as she turns and storms towards the door, but pauses before she exits. “I’m not even going to pretend I understand what’s going on with you right now, but expect a call from Mum.”

Ah fuck.

Chapter 8

Rose

I did something this morning that I’ve never done before in my entire adult, working life. I called in sick. Not because I didn’t want to go in today, but because I finally found a new job prospect that’s even more promising than the one I already have. More money, better perks, and closer to home. I can only hope that if I get it, my new boss respects boundaries and understands what personal space means.

I’m dressed in a skirt today, a black one, and I’ve paired it with a white blouse and a black blazer. I read somewhere that black and white are the best colours to wear to an interview. I’m not sure if that’s true, but I’m going all in for this one.

I desperately want this job. I’m bringing a copy of my CV, even though I already sent it in with my application. I need to put as much distance between Whitmore Industries and me as I can. Not only because I detest my boss, but because after reading the paperwork in the file I was supposed to shred, I’m certain something untoward is going on in that company. Something I want no part of.

Butterflies take flight in my stomach the second I step off the elevator and into the reception area of Kingsley Holdings. I researched the company before I applied, and I was impressed by everything they stand for.

Whitmore Industries pounces on and takes advantage of struggling companies. They buy them for far less than they’re worth, build them up, and then resell them for a huge profit.

Kingsley Holdings takes a completely different approach. Instead of waiting for struggling companies to fail so they can swoop in and buy them for next to nothing, they step in with financial support and take a stake in the business. They then work alongside the owners to turn things around, giving them a chance to get back on their feet and, eventually, buy back Kingsley’s share.

That’s the kind of company I want to work for. Somewhere that does good things. Somewhere that helps people when they need it most, rather than taking advantage of them.

My eyes move around the space as I approach the reception desk. Floor-to-ceiling windows flood the area with natural light. It’s bright and stylish, with a modern touch that makes the place feel warm and welcoming.

My eyes land on the fruit basket sitting off to the side. It’s full of oranges, of all things, and my stomach slightly recoils. It’s not unusual to see mints offered, or even some chocolates if you’re lucky, but oranges? They’re sticky and messy. If they wanted to offer a healthier option, apples would have been a much better choice.

I’ve been making freshly squeezed juice for the past few days to get through the abundance of oranges I have at home. At least I know I won’t be getting scurvy any time soon.

“Welcome to Kingsley Holdings,” the receptionist says with a genuine smile.

“Hi. My name is Rose Donovan. I’m here for an interview. I was told to ask for Violet when I arrive.”

“Have a seat,” she offers, gesturing towards the large cream-leather lounge positioned against the wall. “I’ll let Violet know you’re here.”

My leg bounces with nervous anticipation when a young, beautiful woman with long, dark hair and big whiskey coloured eyes approaches me a few minutes later. “Rose?” she asks, with a friendly smile.

“Yes,” I answer as I stand and reach for her extended hand.

“My name is Violet Kingsley. I’m the head of HR. Would you like to follow me into the boardroom for your interview?”

Kingsley. Interesting. She shares the company’s name. Is this a family-run business?

I take the seat Violet offers when we enter the boardroom. She rounds the table and sits opposite me. Another fruit bowl sits between us, overflowing with more oranges.