Page 23 of Meeting Her Mate
“Cutting it close, are we? It’s a minute past twelve,” she said icily.
“I’m really sorry,” I said, straining my face to show some remorse.
The receptionist sighed and tore a piece of paper from a machine, and handed it to me. “This is the guest pass. Take the elevator to the third floor and head right to the HR wing. All right?”
“All right. Thank you!” I squealed and made a run for the elevators in the lobby. Just as I was running towards them, the elevator that I had used to come up opened, and the guard emerged from it, staring into the crowd.
Before he could figure out that I was standing beside him, I slipped into the open elevator and closed the doors just before he could turn around.
I pressed the third-floor button and then buckled at my knees, trying to catch my breath finally. What a hectic and chaotic start to my day. The only good thing to have come out of this series of unfortunate events was that I had completely forgotten about Will and what had happened between us.
Great. There. I’d started recalling it again.
“You don’t have the time. No.” I said to my reflection and shook my finger threateningly. “Not the time.”
The doors opened on the third floor. I immediately stepped out before the guard could alert the building security, and they’d start a building-wide search of the crazy girl who had been running maniacally everywhere.
I followed the receptionist’s directions and came to the HR wing. There was a translucent door with the words “Interview Room” on it. I knocked on it rather quickly.
“Come in,” a deep voice resonated from the other side of the door. Something was unnerving about the reverberation of that voice that made me feel nervous. I told myself that it was just pre-interview jitters and headed inside.
“Running a little late, are we, Miss Richards?” the lone man who sat behind the interview table asked, smiling at me. There was a magnetic quality to the way he spoke and how he looked.
He was a dark-haired, blue-eyed, clean-shaven man wearing a crisp suit that fitted his body in all the right places. His physique was apparent even from underneath his suit. He had a toned body with muscles jutting out from under his coat.
“Erm…” I was at a loss for words.
“Please,” he said, extending his hand, waving at the empty chair. “Be seated.”
I followed his instruction wordlessly, slinking into the seat, feeling extremely underdressed and tacky compared to him. The term white trash came to mind.
“I went over your resume, Miss Richards,” the man said, taking out my resume from his file and eying it casually. “You don’t have a technical background. It says here you majored in fine arts and business management?”
I had to say something quickly. This man was so well-spoken, and my window of opportunity for delivering the first impression was closing fast.
“Fiddler Community College does not offer a wide array of classes,” I said, clearing my throat. “Just a few technical courses, as a matter of fact. With my resume, you’ll see that I’ve attached my detailed mark sheet. It shows that I have taken twelve technical courses, including computer maintenance, but because the majority of my courses were business-oriented and fine arts related, that’s what it shows as my major.”
“Good. Good,” he said, slowly nodding. “Three point nine CGPA. That’s impressive.”
“Can I be honest with you?” I asked, trying out a little informality. It couldn’t hurt. I read online that it worked well with interviewers. “I wanted to attend a proper college. But you know how Fiddler’s Green is. It’s hard to break out from here.”
“I know what you mean, and that’s why I extended this opportunity to residents of this town rather than hire from outside. It’s a closed-off life, and that makes opportunities harder to come by for the people who live here, but I believe that everyone deserves an equal opportunity to thrive. Isn’t that what makes America great?”
“It does,” I nodded vigorously.
“So, if we hire you, what do you think you would bring to the table?” he asked.
“Erm…Mr.…”
“Blair. Blair Beckett,” he said.
It felt as if someone had thrown a bucketful of ice at me, freezing me to the spot. Blair Beckett was the CEO of Beckett Pharma. What the hell was he doing interviewing me directly?
“Holy crap. You’re the…”
“CEO, I know. Let’s just say that I’m very invested in the vision of my company and wanted to conduct these interviews directly. Don’t be alarmed. Be as you were five minutes ago when you were talking to me so candidly. I appreciate candidness,” Blair smiled.
“It’s kinda hard to be candid when you know the CEO of a company’s interviewing you directly,” I said.