Holy shit.
The foyer of Camelot Holdings was all steel and silver trim with rich, marbled mahogany wood finishes. I took a seat in the modern, yet deeply rich lobby with four other women, all quite pretty and dressed identically to me in shades of gray and black skirt suits and formal blouses.
I swallowed, feeling my pulse race. Why was I so nervous? Okay, it was a job interview — a job interview I needed pretty desperately. Yes, Sasha had made it quite clear that she had more than enough space, not to mention finances to basically have me stay with her, Luke, and Jordan indefinitely, but I knew I’d go nuts if I didn’t at least try to do something job-wise.
But I shouldn’t have been so nervous. I glanced up at the silver-inlay lettering above the receptionist’s desk.
Camelot Holdings.
I rolled my eyes, imagining the old dork who thought that up. A soft metallic clunk of a door made me glance back to the boss’s office besides the receptionist’s desk. A pretty, young woman about my age left the office looking flustered, breathless, and pink in the face. She looked scared.
I swallowed.
“Ms. Holloway?”
I stared, blinking at the scared girl as she got into the elevator.
“Ms. Holloway?”
I blinked again and turned back.
“Yes?”
The older receptionist glared at me from her desk. “They’ll see you now.”
A shiver ran up my back.
“They?”
She gave me an exasperated look.
“The bosses.”
I frowned.
Bosses? As in plural?
“Bosses?”
She rolled her eyes at me.
“Yes, dear. Mr. Black, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Harlow.” She frowned at me. “The men you’re interviewing with in order to personally assist, Ms. Holloway.”
I felt that shivering chill creep down my back again. Jesus there were three of them? Three old assholes I was going to have to report to? God, no wonder the position paid so well!
“Can’t keep them waiting, dear,” she said thinly, gesturing at the door. “Through there.”
I swallowed heavily as I rose and smoothed down my skirt and blouse before slowly stepping to the thick wooden door. The long hallway past the door from the reception area was lowly lit and endless. My heels clicked loudly on the marble floor as I slowly made my way closer and closer to the office.
Their office — the office of Mr. Black, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Harlow, apparently. I suddenly wished I’d done my homework a little better before coming to the interview.
“Enter.”
The deep voice resonated through the door as I knocked. I took one final breath before I placed my hand on the silvered knob, turned it, stepped into the room……And promptly almost tripped over my jaw. I’d been picturing three stuffy, crotchety old men — three bent-over, grey-haired senior citizens with bifocals and walking canes.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The three men waiting for me in the room were simply gorgeous. Young, ruggedly handsome, built men. One stood by the window, the other leaned against a thick wooden desk facing the door, and the third sat to one side on a sofa with his feet up on a small coffee table. But all three of them stared right at me with intense, burning, hungry stares.
I swallowed again, feeling the heat pulse to my cheeks under their gaze.
“Close the door, Ms. Holloway,” the man leaning against the front of the desk murmured, his voice smooth like leather and dark wood.
I did as I was told, shivering as I shut myself into the room with these three intense men.
“Sit,” the man on the sofa said sharply, gesturing at a chair in the middle of the room between me and them. I nodded quickly and made my way to it, smoothing my skirt down nervously as I took a seat.
“You seem surprised,” the man by the window growled out, his sharp blue eyes flashing and only accentuated by the dark, slightly curled hair on his head.
The man leaning against the desk — blonde and also blue-eyed with a chiseled jawline — chuckled darkly, crossing his arms across his chest.
I took a shaky breath, and started to open my mouth when the dark-haired man on the sofa shook his head, holding a hand up.
“You aren’t the first woman we’ve met with today who was expecting to meet with perhaps some what older interviewers.” He smirked, his dark eyes flashing at me.
“We keep ourselves and our company out of the media light, Ms. Holloway. We prefer to keep things personal.” He purred the last word in a way that only warmed the flush in my cheeks more.
God, they’re so attractive.
I mentally admonished myself for the thought that crept into my head — well, that and the other highly unprofessional ones that followed involving the men in front of me. And yet, it couldn’t be helped. The men were stunningly good looking, in that unfair, biological way. They were attractive in that magnetic way that pulls at you on an evolutionary level, and they were certainly pulling at something deep inside of me.
Something hot, something dark, and something forbidden. I quickly took a sharp breath and centered myself inside, trying to will the heat from between my legs. I forced myself to smile politely and professionally instead of letting the sudden dirty thoughts inside my head get ahold of me.
“My name is Hunter Black, Ms. Holloway,” the man by the window said in his smooth, yet gruff voice.
“And these are my partners in Camelot Holdings, Damien Caldwell and Sean Harlow.”
I nodded, and I was just opening my mouth to respond, when Mr. Caldwell — the man leaning against the desk, spoke sharply.
“You’re aware of the duties involved with the position?”
I nodded quickly, feeling the raw power in that voice of his take ahold of me.
“Yes, Mr. Caldwell.”
“Sir.”
My eyes drew back to his. “Pardon?”
A shadow crossed his face.
“I said sir; as in, you will refer to us as ‘sir’ or ‘sirs’.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “Of course, sir.”
His eyes sparked, and I could see a slight grin pull at the corners of his mouth at my use of the word.
“It’s just that you’re…” Sean, sitting on the sofa, steepled his hands in front of him. “How to put this delicately — you’re overqualified, Ms. Holloway. In fact, you’re educated enough to basically be in charge of a division here, rather than running coffee errands and scanning documents for the three of us.”
I tried to smile, but it quickly fell from my face. On the one side, it was nice of them of them to acknowledge my qualifications — or overqualifications as the case may have been. But on the other hand, I really did need a job, however overqualified I may be for it. And if I was going to not get it because of my higher education level than the other applicants, well, that would suck.
Damien seemed to see the look on my face, as he quickly shook his head.
“Nothing like that, Ms. Holloway, we’re just surprised to see a resume like yours in the pile.” His eyes narrowed at me.
“That said, the job does have duties that need being done, however overqualified you may be.” He arched a brow at me meaningfully, and I nodded quickly.
“Oh, absolutely,” I said quickly, smiling. “I’m perfectly aware of the position, sir, and I’m willing to start wherever I can.”
He smiled darkly, his eyes flashing at me again, and I could have sworn I saw his eyes momentarily slip down over my bare, crossed, knees beneath the hem of my skirt before darting back to my face.
“Are you married, Arianna?”
I jerked my head toward Hunter, still standing by the window, quickly blinking at his question.
“I’m aware that you’re a ‘Miss’, but I know many women don’t take a last name these days.”
I shook my head. “No, sir.”
“Boyfriend?”
His quick follow-up threw me even more off center. Wasn’t this an oddly personal question for a professional interview like this?
But still, I shook my head again.
“No, sir.”
“Good,” he said, smiling darkly at me as his eyes flicked over me.
The fact that he didn’t follow it up with any sort of explanation left me hanging on the reason.
“Would you stand for a moment, Arianna?” Sean’s smooth voice from the sofa had my eyes darting to him, and then finding themselves being held by that steely gaze.
“Stand, Ms. Holloway.”
His voice was darker this time, and slightly edged with irritation, as if I hadn’t followed through quick enough.
This is some sort of mind game they’re doing with all the interviewees,I thought to myself. It was strange, but I knew it had to be some sort of test to see how potential applicants reacted to demands and pressure.
Well,that I could do without a problem. I stood readily, smoothing my skirt down.
Sean smiled.
“Good girl.”
The flush came roaring into my cheeks at the words, a shiver tingling down my back at the velvety way he’d said it almost under his breath. He nodded, smiling at me as his eyes very obviously dipped over my body. And yet, it wasn’t creepy, and I didn’t feel like he was being inappropriate, despite how very inappropriate this was for an interview. His eyes moved over me again, and all I could think of were those words.
Good girl.
Yeah, I wasn’t creeped out at all. In fact, I found myself excited by his lingering looks; almost proud that he seemed to approve of what he saw.
His eyes moved back to mine, locking my gaze for another minute, sending a shiver through me before a cough brought my attention back to Damien.
“Turn around for us, Ms. Holloway.”
I felt the pulse of something wicked throb inside of me at his words.
Turn around for them?
I knew I should have been incensed, or that I should have walked out.
But I didn’t.
Looking back, I’m still not even sure why I didn’t. There I was, alone in a room with three gorgeous, dark, domineering men, asking me to turn for them, and yet I stayed right where I was.
Maybe it was the same reason Sasha had stayed in her office back then when she first met Jordan and Luke.
My face went red at the implications of what that meant for me here and now with these three men. But then, I did as I was told.
I turned for them; slowly.
I shivered as I did so, feeling their eyes on me, and feeling this thrill from it being so wrong coursing through me. Wrong, perhaps, but at the same time, I felt a strange urge to please them. Not just because I wanted a job, but because I wanted to do well for them.