The Billionaire's Bitch

Four

"Hmmm."

Adrian Kingsley circled me, slowly.

I hadn't even sat down yet, just standing there nervously in his office.

I clutched the strap of my handbag, trying to keep that my only sign of nerves.

Meanwhile, Mr. Kingsley circled me.

He was tall, I thought as he glided by. I felt like a small fish being circled by a shark.

The shark hadn't decided if it was hungry yet, but it knew it didn't want the little fish to get away, just in case.

I gulped.

My vivid writer's imagination was seriously a curse sometimes.

"Hmmm." He said again.

If he said 'hmmm' one more time I might lose my nerve altogether and bolt from the room.

This was already by far the weirdest interview I'd ever had and we were only a few minutes into it.

He hadn't even shaken my hand when I'd offered it, so rude!

He had risen from his desk when a harried looking man let me into the big, cold office, and had then set to circling me when the man had scuttled away.

Now I wished I could scuttle away.

But I made myself hold my ground. I had come here, not to be intimidated, but to work.

I was a person, a perfectly decent, capable, intelligent person and I-

"Well, you're not much to look at, are you?" He said at last, stopping to stand in front of me.

Icy, azure eyes drifted critically down me then back up again.

I blinked up at him. "Excuse me?"

"Good, it means you won't be distracting. Although, do you make a habit of leaving your blouse unbuttoned at the top like that? Because that WILL be distracting."

My mouth opened and closed for a moment; I felt like that little fish even more, and I was dying.

Then I looked down to find to my dismay that one of the upper buttons on my blouse had, in fact, come undone somewhere along the way.

A powerful blush surged into my cheeks and I fastened the rogue button closed with trembling fingers. If I get even the slightest amount of adrenaline, I shake. It's the worst. My father had fondly referred to it as "Chihuahua syndrome" all throughout my childhood.

"That's better." Mr. Kingsley said with pursed lips, as if he still wasn't sure if I was acceptable to look at or not.

"I only have a few questions for you, Ms. Mathers." He said, turning away and going to sit behind his big, modern desk.

I took that as my cue to sit in the uncomfortable chair across the desk from him.

I clutched my purse in my lap like a shield that could stand between him and I.

Adrian Kingsley steepled his fingers and peered at me suspiciously over them, assessing me with those icy blue eyes. "Can you type quickly, and while listening to someone read to you?"

"Yes." I answered automatically. I didn't dare give any other answer.

He seemed skeptical. His eyes telling me that he would be the judge of that.

"Are you capable of following orders, would you say? Swiftly and without asking undue questions? Can you learn from what I teach you and adapt to situations accordingly?"