The interview is on the twenty-ninth floor, which, according to the rows of elevator buttons in front of me, is second from the top. At this hour, I’m the only one going up. Piston owns the entire building, with the executive offices on top and sales and R&D down below. Manufacturing is done mostly overseas.
I learned all of that while researching them online. Exceptional research skills is one of the strengths I list on my résumé. Most people think that searching for something online begins and ends with putting a term into the Google box and hitting “search,” but there’s so much more to it than that. I can usually find a lot more about a company or client than is on their typical homepage with a little bit of effort.
Usually.
Piston wasn’t the only thing I had time to research this morning. Just out of curiosity, I looked up the Chrome Soldiers MC. There was surprisingly little info about them out there. I guess motorcycle gangs aren’t generally looking for publicity, but some of the bigger clubs at least had a website, or some mention of them. I did find a couple of passing references, but nothing major. It could just be that they are too small time to get much media attention. Finding that out made me feel a little bit better, anyway. At least it wasn’t like I slept with a contemporary of the Hell’s Angels.
Probably. I guess it could also mean that they just haven’t been caught doing whatever it is they do, yet.
The elevator chime brings my thoughts back to the present and I shake away the remnants of leather and stubble that seem to still be drifting through my head. I need to focus on this interview. Right now, this job is my only hope.
The reception foyer is mostly decorated in shades of gray and black, with smoky glass tables and a lot of sharp angles. Behind a big desk made of metal with chrome finishings sits a woman staring at a computer screen. Her eyes flit over to me as I approach, and she smiles.
“Evelyn Silver to see Miss Li?” I say.
The receptionist nods and stands. “Of course, she told me to bring you right in. Follow me.”
I’m led through a door behind her desk and down a corridor until we reach an office. The name plate says Catherine Li, HR. After a quick knock, the door opens and the receptionist nods a goodbye as a young Asian woman greets me.
“Miss Silver?”
“Yes, how do you do?” I ask, shaking her hand. Catherine smiles and motions to a chair as she closes the door.
“So,” she says, picking my résumé up from her desk and glancing down at it, “tell me about yourself, Evelyn.”
It’s a question I’m completely prepared for, and I launch into the best sales pitch of myself that I can. Catherine listens and asks a few follow-up questions, and within twenty minutes I’m feeling much more confident. I can tell from her body language that Catherine is satisfied, and even impressed, with my answers.
“Well, you certainly sound qualified for this job,” she says at last. “I assume at this point you might be interested to hear more about the specific position and who you’d be working for?”
My heart starts to beat a little bit faster as a smile breaks out across my face. “Absolutely.”
Catherine turns and opens up a drawer in her desk, removing some papers and placing them between us. “At this point, then, I will require you to sign an NDA. There are certain aspects of the company that we wish to keep secret, but that we will need to discuss if we are to give you more information. I realize it is not completely standard to sign an NDA during an interview, however, it is absolutely a requirement if you wish to proceed. Feel free to take all the time you need in reading it.”
I nod as I pick up the papers. I’ve worked with enough NDAs under Edward to know whether or not they were on the up and up, so it only takes a quick skim to see that she’s telling the truth. There is nothing out of the ordinary about it, so I see no harm in signing it.
“Excellent,” Catherine says, as soon as I drop the pen back down onto the table. “So, this position is very similar to the one you described working in at your last company. The only difference, or at least the main difference, is in who you will be working for.”
“Right, I understand that it won’t be for the CEO. I’m okay with that.” She’s probably worried that I’d consider reporting to anyone less than the CEO a step down, but in reality, it is exactly what I’m looking for.
Catherine purses her lips for a moment and nods. “Piston is structured a little bit differently than most companies, but Mr. Redding has asked me to allow him to explain.”
“Mr. Redding?” I ask. Catherine stands up and so do I, as a reflex.
“Yes, he’s the one you’ll be reporting to, and if you’ll follow me, he’s also the one that will take over the interview from this point. He has asked to meet personally with any candidate’s that I feel are qualified, and as I mentioned, you certainly are that.”
“Uh, sure,” I say. My earlier confidence is waning a bit, but I remind myself it’s perfectly normal to have a second interview with the person that you would be directly reporting to. There’s no reason to worry now. It’s a good thing, in fact. They aren’t making me wait by the phone for days and then have to come back for a second interview. She thinks I’m qualified enough to go straight through.
By the time we get back to reception, I’m walking a little bit taller and the smile is back on my face.
“He’s just above us,” she says as she leads us into the elevator and presses the number thirty.
We’re silent during the short ride as thoughts begin to swirl through my head. I did do a cursory read through of the top executives at Piston and I don’t recall a Mr. Redding. Only the top VP levels were listed by name, though. I wonder how far down the corporate ladder this guy is?
It’s only a short walk across plush carpet and a brightly lit corridor before we reach a big grey door with the name Sebastian Redding over it. No title.
Catherine knocks, and a muffled male voice calls out from inside immediately. “Come in.”
“Ready?” Catherine asks. I nod, anxious to meet the man that I’ll hopefully be working for. Maybe they’ll even hire me today, on the spot. That would save me so much stress. I take a deep breath and remind myself of the very successful and positive interview I just had with Catherine. I’ve got this. I just have to impress him and I’m in. Piece of cake.
Catherine opens the door and steps aside to let me enter.
It takes every ounce of will I have to contain the shriek of surprise that almost escapes my lips. I know the dark, piercing eyes I’m staring into, only the man they belong to isn’t who I know as Mr. Redding.
The man in front of me is the one I know as Bash.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SEBASTIAN
From the look on her face, I’m not sure who is more surprised, me or Blondie. The only thing that saves us from getting busted is that Catherine is looking at me, not her. But she won’t be for long. I need to get rid of HR before this gets out of control.
“Mr. Redding, may I introduce Evelyn Silver? She’s a candidate for the EA position we’ve been advertising for, and I think—”
“Thank you, Catherine, I can take it from here.” I stand up and walk toward the women, keeping a smile on my face even as I dismiss her prematurely. Her smiles falters for a moment, but then she nods and excuses herself. Catherine has been around long enough to know that tact isn’t one of my strong suits, so I know she’ll forgive me.
“What are you doing here?”
Blondie—or, Evelyn, I suppose—gets the question out as soon as the door closes, and before I have a chance to ask the same thing. At least she had sense enough not to say anything in front of Catherine.
“I own this company,” I growl, with an edge to my voice that I don’t usually use at the office. It’s not the first time I’ve had to use it today, though. What else can go wrong?
Evelyn gapes at me. “What?”
I let out a calming breath, trying to remind myself of where I am. Normally, that’s not a probl
em. It’s one of many reasons I keep both sides of my life completely separate and insulated from each other. But seeing her here is almost like a trigger, bringing out the Bash in me. “Sit down.”
I make my way back around my own desk and ease myself heavily into the well-worn leather chair behind it. Evelyn still hasn’t moved from the doorway. “I said sit down.” The edge is creeping back, but it gets her moving at least. Slowly. She’s watching me with every step, like I’m a wild animal that’s gotten past its bars at the zoo. I watch her just as carefully, but not because I’m worried she might attack. More because I’m trying to remember what she looks like without all those clothes. Fuck, this girl is gorgeous.
Whether as an act of defiance or because she’s still considering whether to run, she only stops at the chair in front of my desk but doesn’t sit. “What do you mean, you own this company? It’s a public company, with Hans Peterson as the CEO. You’re just a…”
I raise my eyebrow, interested to see how she finishes that sentence. She’s smart enough not to, but she should have been smart enough not to have started it in the first place. She’s got that unexpected edge to her that I saw at the bar on Saturday night. The one I’m pretty sure she keeps caged up most of the time.
“A thug?” I finish, watching her closely. She blinks and licks her lips, but doesn’t say anything. “A criminal?” Still nothing, but I can tell she’s uncomfortable now, and I have no intention of reassuring her. “You don’t know the half of what I am. But why are you here, Evelyn?” I resist the urge to call her Blondie, intentionally not answering her question as I try her real name out on my tongue for the first time. It fits a corporate setting.
“I sent my résumé in a week ago. For an EA position. To an executive.” She says that last word like an accusation. As if she’s trying to remind me of her own question, but I’m the one in charge here, and I think she might need to be reminded of that.
“Did you know that we check references before we even call people for an interview? It saves us time.” I can see in her eyes a spark now. She suspects what might be coming and shifts her weight back and forth between her feet uncomfortably. “Your references were impeccable, of course. It’s rare that a person puts a reference on a résumé that isn’t going to give them a glowing review.” She visibly relaxes, assuming she’s out of the woods. Time to pounce.
“But there was one reference that was noticeably missing.” Bingo, back stiffens, hands tightening around the back of the chair in front of her. “It’s odd that you would work for someone so high-profile as Edward Stonewall and not use him as a reference. So I called him anyway and wow, he does not like you.”
Pow. She caves, like I’ve just knocked the wind out of her. I just meant to take her down a peg, pay her back for whatever it was she wanted to call me earlier. Why do I feel so guilty all of a sudden?
“Relax. Edward is an ass. That’s why you’re here. Him telling me adamantly not to hire you is about as glowing of a recommendation as you can get.”
“You jerk!”
“Excuse me?” I lift my eyebrow again and her eyes widen as she remembers where she is and who I am. At least, who I am today.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“Never mind.” I wave my hand dismissively. I’ve made my point; I can’t blame an honest reaction, and since when do I give a shit about insults? I prefer someone that speaks their mind. “Look, everyone has their own side of a story, and we can get to yours. I’m just letting you know that I spoke to him and I know he’s a shit…” A flash from the other night pulls at my brain and everything clicks into place. “He’s the guy from the bar, isn’t he? I thought his snooty voice sounded familiar.”
Evelyn gusts out a breath and nods. She looks almost ashamed, but she keeps her head up. “Yes. I thought you said you knew him?”
“I know of him. He has a reputation. But our paths haven’t crossed before.”
“Well, apparently, no one else sees through him like you do, because he’s done as he promised. You’re the only company that’s called me back.”
I bark out a laugh, but the look she gives me tells me she doesn’t see the same humor in the situation. “It’s because of his reputation, not necessarily his lies, that they aren’t calling you back. They’re afraid of him. Of what he’ll do to retaliate. That’s the difference. I’m not.”
“Oh.” Evelyn purses her lips for a moment before squeezing them forward as she thinks. The movement reminds me of what it was like to kiss those lips.
“So, let me guess: you two were fucking, and you broke up. He probably cheated on you. What happen, you catch him fucking his secretary or something?”
A darkness passes over her face so quickly I almost look out the window to see if there’s an approaching storm.
“We weren’t just fucking. We’d been together for months. I had just moved in.” There’s anger in her eyes, but I’m not sure whether it’s directed at me, or him. She pauses for a minute, and then adds, “But the rest is right.”
“Are you shitting me? He was actually fucking his secretary?”
“Not his secretary—she worked for the head of sales—but yes.”
She’s looking down now, likely embarrassed but I can’t help but bark out another laugh. “What a fucking walking cliché that asshole is. What the hell were you doing with a guy like that, anyway?”
“You mean as opposed to a guy like you?” she shoots back, the fire in her eyes returning as she lifts her gaze up to meet mine. I struggle to keep a smile from my face.
“You have no idea who I am.”
“Yes, I do. You’re Bash. A leather-wearing, motorcycle thug that apparently has a day job working at an auto parts company.”
“In this office, you’re to call me Sebastian. Or Mr. Redding. Never Bash.” The tone in my voice makes Evelyn jump, and she closes those beautiful lips down on whatever else she was going to say. I might be pretty laid back about some things, but not that. I’ve spent far too much time and energy keeping my lives separate for her to come in and blow it.
“Sit down,” I say one more time. This time, she obeys. “Catherine brought you in here, which means you’ve signed the NDA, right?”
Evelyn simply nods, and I wonder if I’ve scared her into silence. That gives me some hope, since what I need from her most is her silence. About a lot of things. But she’s here now, however complicated that is, and she already knows about the MC. There’s no point in holding back the rest. She’s professional enough to respect an NDA. I need an assistant, and she’s qualified. All I can do is continue on with what I had planned and figure the rest of this shit out later. I can’t waste all day on this. I still have to deal with the shit-storm that the stolen truck has caused.
“Fine. Then, to answer your earlier question… When I said I own the company, what I mean is that I’m the majority shareholder at Piston. But more than that, I’m the founder of this company.”
Evelyn’s face isn’t made any less beautiful when it’s painted over with confusion, and my mind drifts back one more time to the other night and kissing those lips. I haven’t stopped thinking about those lips in the last couple of days, or any other part of Evelyn. More than I should have. I never thought I’d see her again. Certainly not here.
She has no idea what sort of a bind she’s put me in by walking through my door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVELYN
“How… how is that even… possible?” I bite my tongue again before I add, You’re a fucking criminal! I’ve already spoken more candidly during this interview than is proper, and although there’s no way I plan on working here, and Bash doesn’t seem to mind, that doesn’t mean I have to continue to act unprofessionally. That’s not me, that’s him, and I won’t stoop to his level.
Bash’s dark eyes bore into me, just as they did on Saturday night. I can feel him probing and pushing, but I have no idea what he’s searching for. It was his eyes that I recognized right away. As soon as the door
opened. It’s just the rest of him that doesn’t look familiar.
If I passed him on the street looking like he does now, but he was wearing dark glasses, I would have just walked on by. Well, I probably would have sneaked a peek at his ass or something, but that’s it. I’m not blind, after all, and even the sport jacket and tie combo he’s wearing can’t hide how well-built he is. But I never would have known that this man had his cock buried to the hilt inside of me just two nights ago.
Gone is the razor-sharp stubble that covered his jaw. Gone is the leather, the jeans, the messy hair. The tattoos are all covered. He looks the part of a true corporate exec. Where the hell is Bash?
Oh. Right. Bash is gone. This is Sebastian. Whatever. Split personality much?
Silver and Chrome: A Bad Boy MC Romance Page 6
