Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“I don’t know, but it’s not good. There was a lot of yelling, mostly Charlie.” I raise a brow at her. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon,” she says as Charles stalks toward us.
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. What’s going on that has him so irate? This isn’t good going into a round of interviews. Very important interviews for a very important client.
“One of the new analysts canceled,” he grits through his teeth. “It appears she accepted a job at Bauer.”
I swallow a lump in my throat.
“I’ve moved the other interviews up and added a couple more to the mix. Meet me in my office in ten.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply, spinning on his toes and stalking toward his office, slamming the door behind him.
Shelby whistles. “Good luck with that, Raven.”
I spend the entire ten minutes preparing to deal with a broody Charles. Things with Bauer seem to be getting worse. First Summer, now potential employees. Maybe this is part of the corporate game, but it feels personal.
I knock on Charles’s door right on time, not wanting to send him over the edge by being late.
“Come in,” he barks, and for a moment, I consider faking ill and going home for the rest of the day.
From this side of the door, he sounded more grizzly than man. I pop open the door, peering my head around the corner.
“Are you ready for this?”
He pulls a face that tells me the answer is no.
“I have better things to be doing.”
This stops me up short. He was the one who insisted he be a part of the interview process. Not me.
“I can handle it if you would rather sit this one out,” I offer, hoping he’ll take the bait and I’ll be spared his ire.
No such luck.
“No,” he snaps, typing something on his keyboard, striking at the keys a little rougher than necessary. “This account is too important. I have to ensure we have the right people for Diosa.”
My jaw sets at his condescending words. Like I can’t handle the interviews and choosing the best candidates myself.
What an ass.
I want to lash out, but I know it’s no use arguing with him right now. He’s got to be stressed.
“We’d better get going. Our first interviewee is probably waiting for us in the conference room.”
“Yes, security brought him up from the lobby, and he’s waiting in there.” He stands without saying another word and shoots right past me.
“Well, all right then,” I say, following him like a puppy dog.
“Who’s up first?” he asks over his shoulder.
“Reagan Miller, sir.”
He bobs his head. “Right, my choice.”
I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at his words.
When we enter the room, an attractive man sits across the table.
Reagan Miller has to be at least six feet, three if not four inches, with blond hair and blue eyes. Tall and lean, and did I mention very attractive?
“Reagan Miller? I ask, completely ignoring Charles as he shoulders past me to the head of the table.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”
I nod my head, extending my hand. “Thank you so much for coming today.” Charles turns, eyeing Reagan and then me suspiciously, and I wonder what the hell’s gotten into him.
Finally, he extends his hand, shaking Reagan’s. “Yes, thank you for meeting with us. We’re conducting several interviews, so, if you please, I’d like to quickly refresh myself with your CV.”
“Absolutely,” Reagan says. “If I can answer any questions about my qualifications while you browse, please hit me with them.”
Charles looks over the paper with a raised brow, and I slap his thigh under the table to wipe that look off his face. It’s light enough to get his attention but not alert Reagan.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, but when I don’t say anything, he flips through Mr. Miller’s résumé.
“How about you tell us a little bit about yourself.” I start the conversation feeling wholly uncomfortable.
“I had a short stint playing as a quarterback in the NFL,” he tells me. “But an injury to my back cut that short.”
“I’m sorry,” I offer, and Reagan smiles.
“It’s all good. I went back to school. Graduated from Stanford with my MBA.”
“That’s . . . impressive.” I can’t keep the awe from my voice. Reagan Miller is good-looking, talented, and smart. He’s a catch, and even I can clearly see that.
“Thank you.” His husky voice is low and sexy, and I giggle.
Like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. Reagan grins, and my cheeks warm. Charles clears his throat, shooting me a quick scowl.
“You have no experience.” It isn’t a question. Charles is being rude.
“Actually, I’ve been working as a medical sales rep for the past five years. It’s there on my résumé.”
I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing. Reagan isn’t allowing Charles to bully him around, and it’s very amusing.