Read Online Sirenz by Charlotte Bennardo - Free Book Online

your mouth shut. H .”
    Ouch! Oh well, hopefully there’d be no more nasty surprises or omitted details.
    Over breakfast the next day we went over our plan.
    â€œIf we have to deal with guys, you do all the talking. It worked with the cab and delivery guy,” Meg said as she handed me my sunglasses. “And we’ll both try to get as much information as we can from females. That way we can both talk.”
    â€œWe’d better get moving,” I said. I slapped on my fave shades—Dolce and Gabbanas—and we headed out. We’d decided that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for Meg to go to an interview with buds in her ears. This was not going to be easy for her.
    â€œIf you have to talk to a guy, just watch your words,” I told her. “Don’t get bossy.” She gave me a curt nod.
    We started walking toward Fifth Avenue. I decided it was better to burn off some nervous energy so I didn’t mention getting a cab, although the wind was starting to pick up and I could feel my nose getting red and runny. Or was that from her feathers? She only had one or two. What would I do if she really started sprouting them?
    I recognized the building as soon as I saw it. House of Romanov glittered in crystals embedded into the stone. We gave our names to the—thankfully!—female concierge at the desk, who sent us to the executive offices on the tenth floor. Riding the elevator in silence, we ignored the friendly gaze of the FedEx man. We pushed through double glass doors to the receptionist’s desk and got in line behind another girl about our age.
    â€œPlease, please, please , can’t I take my resume to his office? How about to his secretary?”
    The receptionist, a voluptuous woman with red hair and piercing green eyes, puffed with indignation. “No. Resume here.” She pointed to a black tray where other papers lay.
    At that moment, a door flew open and a fake-baked, super-slim man burst out. His black hair was smoothly plastered to his head and matched his fitted slacks and silk shirt. He was sweating big time, and it was making his eyeliner run.
    â€œMr. Arkady is not happy!” he squeaked, in a slightly Spanish accent. He whipped out a silky handkerchief and dabbed his forehead.
    From the offices beyond, we heard unintelligible yelling.
    â€œ Dios m i o! ” he squealed, then crossed himself and sashayed away.
    â€œOn second thought,” said the girl, picking up her resume from the tray, “maybe I’ll apply at Betsy Johnson.”
    â€œGoodbye.” The receptionist wagged a finger toward the door. The girl scurried away.
    Arkady Romanov was not going to be easy to deal with. If that was him shouting back there, he sounded deranged and dangerous. Super-fab!
    The receptionist turned to us. I gulped and heard Meg do the same. No way are we getting past Ms. T-Rex. And we didn’t even bring resumes. I started to push the glasses off my face and got ready to plead our case.
    â€œDemi, where’s the schedule for the show?” said a svelty male voice.
    Quickly, I slid my glasses back on. We turned around. Another guy had walked into the reception area. A lock of wavy dark hair caressed his forehead and his mouth crooked up higher on one side, with a dimple. Black jeans and an open-collared white silk shirt clung to a bootylicious body. He didn’t have eyeliner on, but his blue eyes were just as mesmerizing.
    It was him ! Sweet Jeans! Oh mama . When Meg inhaled sharply, I knew he was having the same effect on her.
    â€œHey, it’s you two! What are you doing here? Come to hunt me down?”
    Would you surrender?
    â€œUh, we’re here to apply for the internships,” I stammered after Meg nudged me.
    â€œGet out! I’m Mr. Romanov’s personal assistant. If you two feel as passionate about clothes as you do shoes, you’ll be a great fit.” He held out his hand. “By the way, I’m