Page 3 of Office Intrigue (Office Intrigue Duet 1)
As for being qualified, I couldn’t tell you because this particular job posting didn’t have any requirements. It actually said: REQUIREMENTS TO BE PROVIDED AT TIME OF INTERVIEW.
Now, I knew that sounded a little odd, but like I said, my friend suggested I apply. Plus, this was a prestigious PR firm with a great reputation. I seriously doubted they were up to anything nefarious.
As I stood in the lobby, I wasn’t sure what to do next.
Did I slip down the hall and peek into offices until I found someone?
Did I take a seat and wait for someone to come to me?
I’d never had this happen before.
So, I asked myself: If I worked at an esteemed PR firm and I was looking to hire a secretary, wouldn’t I want someone who had ambition? A problem solver? Someone who could think on the fly?
Straightening my spine and adjusting my blazer, I decided that, yes, that was exactly what I would want. So, that was exactly what I’d be.
But before I did that, I figured I could check out the outer sanctum. The single glass desk held a phone and a calendar. Was it a blotter? I thought that’s what they called it. Not that it mattered. I doubted there would be a vocabulary test. And if there was, it wasn’t like I was a dummy.
To my right, there were three charcoal leather couches that were positioned in a U, facing the reception desk. A glass table that matched the desk sat in the center on a plush gray rug decorated with neon-colored geometric shapes. The walls were painted a light gray, decorated with metal geometric shapes that, yes, matched the patterns on the rug. Very artsy.
On the wall behind me, closest to the elevator, was a small counter—light gray cabinets, dark gray granite—with a fancy coffeemaker and little else. On my left was an opaque-glass wall that ran the length of the area and continued down what appeared to be a hallway. It was fairly bright behind the wall, likely from the windows, but there were no shadows, which made me believe there were no people working back there.
I guessed that was the way I should go.
Just when I started toward the hallway, the elevator dinged and I spun around, waiting to see who the newcomer might be.
When the doors opened, I found myself staring. Hard.
Four imposing figures stepped out, two at a time, all wearing suits. Not the cheap kind either. These were likely Armani or Gucci or possibly Tom Ford and definitely tailored.
The well-dressed men seemed to be deep in discussion, not one of them noticing me. It gave me a few seconds to take them all in, and let me just say, since this was going to be my job (there was that optimism again), I was going to be one happy girl getting to see these yummy treats every day.
There were two brunettes, a blond, and one who was shiny bald. Their skin tones ranged from pale to a sexy, rich chocolate color. If I had to venture a guess about their ages, I would’ve said from mid to late thirties. Their heights ranged from probably right at six feet to several inches taller. Then again, I was totally guessing about that. I wasn’t a good judge of height. Being that I was five two without shoes, everyone was tall to me.
“Oh, uh,” the blond said, coming to an abrupt halt when he peered up at me. His eyes darted to the reception desk, then back to me.
I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed to find me standing there or if he’d expected someone else to be with me. Rather than allow the awkward silence to continue, I greeted the men, trying on my best receptionist voice. “I’m Luciana Wagner. I’ve got an interview this morning.”
The blond looked at the brunettes, who—now that I got a good look at them—appeared to be identical twins. Probably close to six and a half feet tall, the two men had a rugged appeal that was heightened by the fact that they wore those expensive suits. Double yum.
Neither of them said anything. It was the dark-skinned, bald gentleman with the glowing brown eyes—swoon!—who stepped forward and held out his hand. He was long and lean, probably the smallest of the four men, but still impressively built. The slow smile that tilted his lips distracted me momentarily. Long enough that I didn’t notice right off the way his iridescent golden eyes had trailed from my breasts to my Kate Spades, then back up to meet my eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Luciana Wagner. I’m Benjamin Snowden. You can call me Ben.”
I smiled, transfixed by his killer grin and perfect white teeth. My mother would’ve loved his teeth.
Keeping my tone polite, I replied with, “You can call me Luci.” But what I was thinking was, “You can call me anything you’d like, just as long as you call me.”
