Read Online If I Were You by Lisa Renée Jones - Free Book Online Page A

are all related to medieval art.
    “Begin,” he orders softly.
    I glance up at him to find him settling back into his seat,
clearly intending to watch me write the test. He wants to intimidate me and I
do not want to let him. My jaw sets and I reach for the pencil. I can feel him
watching me and I am flustered to realize my hand shakes ever-so-slightly. Men
like him do not miss such details. He knows it’s shaking. He knows he’s
affecting me.
    I forcefully clear the haze from my mind and focus on the
questions which are quite advanced, but well within my expertise. I finish them
quickly and flip the paper around for his review.
    He’s still leaning back in his chair, deceptively casual,
watching me, his gaze hooded, his expression once again impassive. He doesn’t
reach for the test, but instead, his attention flicks to my cup.
    “You aren’t drinking your coffee, Ms. McMillan.”
    “I’m over my limit for the day.”
    “Limits are meant to be pushed.”
    “Too much caffeine makes me shaky.” The words, the lie, is
out before I can stop it. Where are all these lies coming from?
    He leans forward and I can smell his clean, spicy male
scent. “Sharing a cup of coffee,” he says, “is a bit like celebrating a new
partnership, don’t you think?”
    The challenge he has just issued crackles in the air, along
with some other, unnamed electricity, that had my throat thick, and my heart
racing. It’s just a cup of coffee but yet I sense that this is about so much
more, that this is another test that has nothing to do with skill, but rather,
him. Me. And I don’t know why I want to comply, to please him. Of course I do,
I tell myself. He’s the kind of man who expects those around him to follow his
lead. I cannot fight his will and be here. I tell myself that is why I comply,
why I do as I wish. I tell myself I am not weak, and he is in control of the
job, not me. I reach for the coffee.
     
     

 

    Chapter Seven
     

     
    I sip from the nearly cold beverage, peeking at my new boss
from under my lashes as he reviews my test. He is powerful, this man, controlling,
arrogant, everything I swear each day I do not want in my life, and yet I am
drinking the coffee to please him. This would be acceptable if it were simply
because he is my new boss. But it's not. Deep in my core, I know I am seduced
by this place, and by him. He is interesting to me in ways I don't want
him to be, in ways I know spell trouble.
    I tip the cup back again and try to savor the bitterness as
a reminder of what this kind of man does to me. It strokes my tongue with acid
and it’s too much to take. I down the rest of the cup.
    Immediately, his gaze lifts to mine, and I barely contain a
grimace. His strong mouth hints at a curve, his eyes glint with something I
can't quite identify, and I wish I don’t want to as badly as I do. 
“Congratulations, Ms. McMillan. You passed your first test.”
    I have the distinct impression that he isn’t talking about
the one on paper, but rather, something completely different. My compliance
with his 'request' I drink my coffee despite my discomfort, I am almost certain.
    “You doubted that I would?” I challenge, telling myself that
I am talking about the questionnaire, not the coffee.
    “I hired you without an interview.”
    “Yes,” I say and my fear he'd done so because I'd been
asking about Rebecca, that he sees me as the next her--and I'm not sure that is
a good thing, in fact that I’m fairly certain that it is not--twists me in
knots. I press forward with a facade of courage. “Why exactly is that? You
don’t seem like a man who makes rash decisions.”
    "Why did you take the job without asking how much you
will be paid or even what time to arrive, Ms. McMillan?"
    My heart skips a beat but I refuse to cower to this man, or
any other, again. I've lived that experience too many times in my life.
"Because I love art and I have the summer off. And since I know far more
about the gallery than