Page 54 of Hate to Love You
“Yeah, and we already got a shitton of applicants,” Ana says, throwing her hands in the air. “But she’s one of the few that actually checks out. I already verified her.”
I rub my eyes.
“Ana, this really isn’t the best time for this,” I groan.
“I’m aware of that,” she hisses back.
Silence falls over the hallway before Ana throws her hands up in defeat.
“Look, I know you’ve got a lot going on. So, if you really want me to reschedule her, I can. But realistically, you do need the help, because as fun as it is doing all of this administrative shit for you, big brother, it’s really not.”
Taking a deep breath, my eyes meet hers.
I know I’ve been asking a lot of her lately. And, I know that she’s been the one fielding most of the calls from Polina.
Fuck it.
“You have her resume?”
Ana smiles and hands me one of the files in her arms.
“She’s waiting for you in your office,” she says, taking a step down the hallway before turning around. “Oh, and Roman?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t fuck her.”
“What?”
“You heard me. At least not right away,” Ana says, rolling her eyes. “Sourcing and verifying these girls takes actual work, so maybe let this one do some actual work first?”
“I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I shrug, smirking to myself as I turn down the hall, hearing Ana groan behind me as I walk away.
As I step onto my executive floor, I find Heather, sitting on the desk of the floor assistant, Alison, whispering animatedly. The moment she sees me, however, she jumps to her feet, adjusting her top and smoothing her pencil skirt.
“Good morning, Roman,” she says far too confidently, the sultry tone in her voice overpowering her enthusiasm.
Immediately I understand: Heather thinks that because I let her blow me last night at the club that it means something.
“Excuse me?” I snap, glaring at her icily.
Her face goes as white as her thin nearly see-through blouse.
“Um…I…I mean, Mr. Antonov,” she squeaks, her cheeks turning a bright shade of red.
I say nothing, walking past her towards my office, convinced that the bitches in this city are getting bolder by the day.
And now I have to go fuck around with an interview.
“So, let’s cut the shit,” I say storming into my office, without bothering to look up. “I hate interviews, and I hate wasting my time. So why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong with you so that we aren’t fucking around.”
“What?” I hear the woman say quietly as I walk over to my coat rack.
“The fact is, this job was posted at the back of the classifieds,” I say, hanging up my jacket. “It was deliberately buried. So, statistically speaking, you are either deliberately unhirable or deliberately desperate and—”
But as I turn back around my words freeze in my throat.
Because sitting there, in my office…is The Brunette.