it.
I narrowed my eyes and said to my reflection: “This job is mine.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. I suppose I’ll tell the other girls to go home.”
I jumped and spun to find Mr. Quinn. He leaned against the frame of his office door casually. He wore a suit without a jacket or tie. The cuffs of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows.
The shirt was tight, nearly too small. I could see the outline of his muscles through the thin fabric. His shoulders were wide; his biceps and abs were well-defined and almost completely visible. Of course, this may have just been my overactive imagination.
His face though, was inarguably gorgeous. Mr. Quinn was classically handsome, like an old Hollywood movie star. He had a strong jaw and high cheekbones; his hair was dark and thick with a slight curl at the end; his eyes a dark green.
I watched him, watching me and had no idea what to say. He appeared to find this amusing.
“Shall we conduct the interview in the hallway, or would you like to come into my office?” he asked.
“Office,” I responded meekly.
Mr. Quinn stepped aside and indicated I should enter. I tried to avert my gaze as I squeezed past him into the room. I briefly brushed against him. He smelled fresh and clean like he’d just stepped out of the shower.
I swallowed hard. I wasn’t anticipating being attracted to Mr. Quinn. I had imagined an older man- stuffy, conservative, the cliché look of old money. I never pictured a man of Mr. Quinn’s age as a billionaire. Of course, no one knew exactly how much he was worth. It was widely speculated that his company, lands, investments and cash were in the billions.
I cleared my throat and stood in his office awkwardly. The room was large. A bar took up half of the right side. The left side had a couch and a door leading to a washroom. The entire back wall of the office was made of glass.
Mr. Quinn’s desk was pressed against the window. I stepped forward to get a better look at the view. From this vantage point you could see all of the city. I wondered what it was like to go to work every day with the world at your feet.
“Please, have a seat,” Mr. Quinn said, gesturing towards the couch.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Yes,” I said hastily. “Uh, no,” I quickly corrected myself, “better not.”
I was terrified of looking unprofessional, but I could have really used a drink to ease my nerves.
“Ah, c’mon, I hate drinking alone,” he said.
“Okay.”
I sat down, straightened my skirt, then crossed and uncrossed my legs. Mr. Quinn had his back to me as he mixed two drinks. I did my best to keep my eyes off his ass.
The interview had taken an unexpected turn. I had no idea what an understatement this was until later.
“Have you worked as an assistant before?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“Please, don’t call me sir. It makes me nervous. I feel like my father’s just entered the room.”
“Sorry sir- uh, Mr. Quinn.”
He looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. His smile hinted at a secret. I felt like he was laughing at a joke I wasn’t privy to. It made me uncomfortable.
“Mr. Quinn will do when we’re in a professional setting. James is fine when it’s just us-assuming you get the job of course.”
“Of course,” I added.
I hated how eager to please I sounded, but well, let’s face it- I was eager to please. He approached holding both drinks. He held one out to me, which I gratefully accepted. I drank half of it in one gulp. He sat across from me and watched, the same enigmatic grin on his face.
“So, tell me about your qualifications,” he said.
I’d had a whole speech prepared. I set down my drink, sat up straight and cleared my throat. I began to speak, but stopped. Mr. Quinn was looking at my legs. When he caught me watching he quickly looked away and smile.
Was it my imagination, or was he checking me out? My mind went blank. I couldn’t remember my prepared answers to the interview
I narrowed my eyes and said to my reflection: “This job is mine.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. I suppose I’ll tell the other girls to go home.”
I jumped and spun to find Mr. Quinn. He leaned against the frame of his office door casually. He wore a suit without a jacket or tie. The cuffs of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows.
The shirt was tight, nearly too small. I could see the outline of his muscles through the thin fabric. His shoulders were wide; his biceps and abs were well-defined and almost completely visible. Of course, this may have just been my overactive imagination.
His face though, was inarguably gorgeous. Mr. Quinn was classically handsome, like an old Hollywood movie star. He had a strong jaw and high cheekbones; his hair was dark and thick with a slight curl at the end; his eyes a dark green.
I watched him, watching me and had no idea what to say. He appeared to find this amusing.
“Shall we conduct the interview in the hallway, or would you like to come into my office?” he asked.
“Office,” I responded meekly.
Mr. Quinn stepped aside and indicated I should enter. I tried to avert my gaze as I squeezed past him into the room. I briefly brushed against him. He smelled fresh and clean like he’d just stepped out of the shower.
I swallowed hard. I wasn’t anticipating being attracted to Mr. Quinn. I had imagined an older man- stuffy, conservative, the cliché look of old money. I never pictured a man of Mr. Quinn’s age as a billionaire. Of course, no one knew exactly how much he was worth. It was widely speculated that his company, lands, investments and cash were in the billions.
I cleared my throat and stood in his office awkwardly. The room was large. A bar took up half of the right side. The left side had a couch and a door leading to a washroom. The entire back wall of the office was made of glass.
Mr. Quinn’s desk was pressed against the window. I stepped forward to get a better look at the view. From this vantage point you could see all of the city. I wondered what it was like to go to work every day with the world at your feet.
“Please, have a seat,” Mr. Quinn said, gesturing towards the couch.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Yes,” I said hastily. “Uh, no,” I quickly corrected myself, “better not.”
I was terrified of looking unprofessional, but I could have really used a drink to ease my nerves.
“Ah, c’mon, I hate drinking alone,” he said.
“Okay.”
I sat down, straightened my skirt, then crossed and uncrossed my legs. Mr. Quinn had his back to me as he mixed two drinks. I did my best to keep my eyes off his ass.
The interview had taken an unexpected turn. I had no idea what an understatement this was until later.
“Have you worked as an assistant before?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“Please, don’t call me sir. It makes me nervous. I feel like my father’s just entered the room.”
“Sorry sir- uh, Mr. Quinn.”
He looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. His smile hinted at a secret. I felt like he was laughing at a joke I wasn’t privy to. It made me uncomfortable.
“Mr. Quinn will do when we’re in a professional setting. James is fine when it’s just us-assuming you get the job of course.”
“Of course,” I added.
I hated how eager to please I sounded, but well, let’s face it- I was eager to please. He approached holding both drinks. He held one out to me, which I gratefully accepted. I drank half of it in one gulp. He sat across from me and watched, the same enigmatic grin on his face.
“So, tell me about your qualifications,” he said.
I’d had a whole speech prepared. I set down my drink, sat up straight and cleared my throat. I began to speak, but stopped. Mr. Quinn was looking at my legs. When he caught me watching he quickly looked away and smile.
Was it my imagination, or was he checking me out? My mind went blank. I couldn’t remember my prepared answers to the interview
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