Blackstone Inc. (Book 1)

Part 5

My stomach was in knots as the floors flew by.

I wasn't sure what kind of situation I was walking into as I thought about how this whole thing seemed very mysterious and unnerving as I counted down the floors along with the digital reader above the doors.

But I wasn't about to complain.

The wages this person was willing to pay for a good assistant were well above what it would take to pay my rent, utilities, car note, insurance, phone bill, gas and groceries, and any other miscellaneous bills I might have all while still being able to have a bit more left over for various out-of-budget items I might need and or want.

I would try as hard as I could to land this position no matter the circumstances.

Taking my compact out of my purse, I glanced over my make up one more time and applied a little more powder to my T-zone just in case before returning it back to my bag.

The elevator stopped at floor 25 with a cheerful ding and an automated voice came over the speaker asking for an entry code.

I typed in the code and the doors opened to reveal a beautiful porcelain tile entryway with bubble-style mirrors on the right wall and a gorgeous waterfall painting on the left with a small mahogany table under said painting holding a vase full of white tulips.

There was an extravagant looking chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the way it sparkled in the mid-morning sun was breathtaking.

I was sure I hadn't even seen half of this office and I was already highly intimidated.

"Come in," a stern voice instructed and I willed my feet to move my body further into the office. I could've sworn I had heard that voice somewhere as it sounded so familiar but I just couldn't quite put my finger on it and decided to let it go.

"Sorry, Sir. I was just admiring--," my words cut off as I rounded the corner and saw a beautiful dark-brown haired man sitting behind a huge mahogany desk.

′Holy beard.′

The man had a nice, full-sized beard accompanied by a mustache and along with his rather gorgeous face, his muscles were all but bulging out of the arms of his suit.

He was jotting something down on a piece of paper so I couldn't see his eyes but I was willing to bet they were beautiful--whatever color.

My heart was racing as I realized that he was quite literally the most attractive man I'd ever seen. Like something straight out of a magazine.

I took a deep breath to calm my heart and tried to regain my composure before starting again, "I'm here for the interview," I said in a low voice, highly intimidated by this god of a man.

Standing about halfway between the desk and the door, I waited for him to finally look up and acknowledge me.

"Well, go on then. Sit down in one of the two chairs I've got here. Don't just stand there in the middle of my floor as if you've never been to an interview before," he said before finally looking up at me.

And the way the morning light hit his eyes at just the right angle...they were a beautiful shade of amber that reminded me of honey, of marmalade, of bourbon all mixed into one.

He watched my every step with those gorgeous eyes and I saw him rake them down my figure and then back up again.

′It seems you, indeed, made a very good outfit choice today.'

I was loving the way his eyes follow the curve of my hips, over my stomach, and up to my breasts. I was humble but also wasn't afraid to say I looked good.

'There's nothing wrong with a little self-confidence.'

When I finally took a seat in one of the white leather chairs, I crossed my right leg over the left knowing that the slit on my thigh was bringing attention to my legs.

We sat in silence for a moment, both looking for the other to say something, but this is his office so I would wait for him.

Just from the few sentences he had said I was already getting a taste of his Type A personality and I loved it. The people-pleaser in me was thrilled at the prospect of this being our new boss and I suddenly wanted the job even more.

"Well," he asked as he arched a bushy dark brown brow.

What?

′The fuck does that mean?′

"Um...," I breathe out, confused.

He sighed, dragging a hand through his short hair, "Let's begin with your name, shall we?"

I felt flushed and stuttered, "G-Genevieve Carlyle but please call me Gen, Sir," I said the last part a little clearer.

He put the tip of his pen cap between his teeth and was silent for a moment before he stated, "I'll call you Genevieve if you don't mind. It's quite long, unique, and formal sounding."

I felt my face redden even more, "That's fine, Sir."

'Long and unique, hmm?'

I tried not to roll my eyes at the innuendo.

Suddenly, I realized I had no idea what his name was. He had to be a higher-up if I needed a code to get to his office, though.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I didn't catch your name," I blushed and felt underprepared as that was the one thing I needed to know before the interview. Maybe I would've known how to act had I known who this man was.

"Well, I'm Dominic Blackstone, but you can call me Dom or Sir."