Desk Job (London Menage Book 2)

by Lily Harlem

  “Great.”

  “The only thing is they’re desperate to get someone started. Interview would be on Monday morning.”

  “I can do that.” I did a thumbs up sign to Sian.

  She grinned.

  “Excellent. I’ll email you all the details, is that okay?”

  “Absolutely fine. And thank you for thinking of me.”

  “You’re welcome and good luck.”

  I clicked the phone off and dropped it into my bag. “Well that’s a result. Interview Monday. It was worth signing with that new agency this week.”

  “Absolutely.” She held up her glass. “Here’s to a successful interview, a good pay packet and a sexy new boss with a nice arse you can ogle.”

  We both laughed.

  “And after this,” Sian said, wafting her menu. “We’ll have to get you a fancy new outfit to wear for the interview.”

  “I’m sure I’ve got—”

  “Yes, I know you’ve got plenty of work outfits, just some new shoes then, and some sexy stockings.” She paused. “Perhaps a sheer, silky blouse too. You’ll get the job on looks.”

  “Hey, I like to think I have PA skills to my merit. I have been doing it for years.”

  “I know, but no harm thrashing the competition by making the most of those awesome curves and gorgeous legs of yours.”

  A warm feeling settled inside me. Sian always made me feel good, and I didn’t know what I’d do without her. We’d been friends for years and even though she had Coben, her husband, to think about, she always made time for me. Other friends I’d had ditched their single mates once they paired up and settled down, but not Sian, she was a keeper, and it seemed she thought I was too.

  But it would be nice to pair up and settle down myself. Find someone to enjoy trips to the theater with, nice meals, cuddle up with on rainy Sundays and binge watch boxed sets on TV.

  “And sexy boss or not, I need a job,” I said. “Pretty sharpish.”

  “And we need that drink.” She stretched her neck to look over my shoulder. “Ah, here it comes.”

  Two glasses of sparkling wine were placed in front of us, the fizz misting over the rim.

  “To new jobs,” Sian said, raising her glass.

  “And mysterious new men,” I added with a giggle.

  ****

  The weekend sauntered by. The weather was warm which seemed to inject laziness into me.

  I cleaned my apartment, added some small flowering plants to a tub I had on my miniscule balcony, and caught up with reading I’d been meaning to do—a lovely new romance book by one of my favorite authors.

  Monday came round and I spent longer than I’d planned straightening the seams on the new stockings I’d bought. Sian had insisted on treating me to them as a good luck present, saying they’d work just right with my black patent heels, black pencil skirt and sheer sky-blue blouse. She was, of course, right. They’d turned a smart outfit into one with just a little bit of sass, and there was no harm in that. Subtle sass I could work with.

  I added a slim silver necklace with a heart pendent that hung just above my cleavage and swept my hair into a twist on the crown of my head. I then decided to splash out on a cab rather than battling The Tube. The last thing I wanted was to arrive at the interview all hot and sweaty and with damp patches on the underarms of my top. No, I needed to give the impression of smooth efficiency, an unruffled demeanor, and someone who could pre-empt a busy person’s needs.

  The offices of Wainwright and Bramon were set in a tall building constructed of steel and blue-tinted glass. I stepped through the revolving doors, my heels clicking on the hard tiled floor, and made my way up to a reception desk.

  I noticed a man wearing glasses glance my way. His attention lingered. Yes, I looked good. I had the type of round hips that were impossible not to roll as I walked and now, wearing high heels, that sway was even more pronounced.

  A shiver of nerves went up my spine. I hadn’t always felt so confident about my shape but after a scary year where I’d realized I wasn’t eating enough and had become way too thin, I’d bucked up. A course of sessions with a therapist and some strategies that helped me get to a healthy weight again, put paid to that problem.

  And I intended for it to stay that way. Making myself ill to look a certain way was not how I wanted to live my life.

  “Hello,” I said to the receptionist. “I’m here for Wainwright and Bramon.”

  “Yes, twenty-sixth floor. The elevator is just there.” She jabbed her pen to the right.

  “Thank you.” I headed for the lift, checking my hair for loose strands.

  As I rode to the twenty-sixth floor, I went over again what I’d learned about the company I was hoping to work for. Owned by two men, Andre Bramon and Tristan Wainwright, it was an up and coming marketing firm with an impressive list of clients. Fifteen people were employed in a range of roles and from what I gathered, the joint owners were very much hands on in the day-to-day running of the company.

  It was also very convenient for me, only a short cab ride or three stops on The Tube. Whatever the weather, I’d be able to get to work and it wouldn’t cost me an arm and a leg either.

  I pulled in a deep breath as the elevator slowed. This was it. Time to do my stuff. This job would be the answer to a whole host of rather pressing problems.

  The doors slid open and the scent of new carpet and polish filled my nose. I stepped out, my heels now quiet on the soft flooring. The lights were muted, not harsh like the ones in the reception area and the furniture was made of rich, dark oak. It had a nice feel to it, luxury, contemporary, but also comfortable.

  A woman with a tight blonde bun and black glasses paused typing and looked up. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here for an interview. Stella Wright.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” She stood. “If you’d like to come this way, Andre is waiting for you.”

  Andre? Did that mean I was to be interviewed by one of the partners?

  I quashed a knot of nerves. That was fine. Of course he’d want to interview me. I would after all, if I got the job, be running his life Monday to Friday, nine-to-five.

  I followed the young woman past several offices, all of which had their doors closed. I then came to one that was open an inch.

  The woman knocked.

  “Come in,” called a deep voice.

  “Stella Wright is here. For the eleven o’clock interview.”

  “Yes, yes, send her in.”

  I glanced at my watch. I wasn’t late, in fact I was ten minutes early, but somehow I felt as though I’d kept him waiting.

  “Please, go through.” The woman stepped out of the way and indicated the office.

  “Thanks.” I gripped the strap of my bag a little tighter and wondered if maybe I’d gone over the top with my outfit. She wore plain black trousers, flat shoes and a shapeless red top.

  Stepping into the office, I paused for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Blinds were half pulled at the windows and the dark furniture appeared nearly black. Sitting behind a huge desk was a man in a suit. He had blond hair and his face was lit by the computer screen in front of him.

  “Ah, hello,” he said, standing and walking around the desk. “You must be Stella.”

  “Yes. Mr Bramon, right?”

  He smiled, a warm easy grin that went right up to his blue eyes. “Spot on. Please, sit.” He gestured to one of the low bucket chairs in front of the desk and to my surprise, took the one next to it rather than heading back around to where he’d been sitting.

  I settled myself, set my bag on the floor, and crossed my legs. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, something light and fresh, a little peppery maybe.

  “I’ve just been through your CV,” he said, folding his arms and creasing his suit jacket. “I see you worked at Naddra.”

  “Yes, for several years. I was personal assistant to the human resources director. It’s a shame the company went into liquid
ation. I was very happy there.”

  Again he smiled. “And what was it about Naddra that made you happy?”

  Interesting question. “Well, it was a convenient commute, only a few minutes from here in fact.”

  He nodded as though he already knew this.

  “And it kept me busy. I don’t like twiddling my thumbs, looking for things to do. I’d rather be on the go when I’m at work.”

  “Well you certainly would be here.” He studied me for a moment. “You’d actually be personal assistant to both myself and my partner, Tristan Wainwright.”

  “Both of you?” I pressed my lips together and thought about it. I hadn’t been PA to two people before but I didn’t see it would be a major problem. I’d just have to be super organized, but I was good at that, heck, organized was my middle name.

  “Do you think that would be manageable for you?”

  “Well it’s a full time position so I don’t see why not. Perhaps on limited hours being PA to two busy marketing directors would be a challenge but that’s not the case here.”

  He smiled, his eye line dipping to my throat as though looking at my necklace. “Tristan is out of the country at the moment, otherwise I’d introduce you.”

  “Do you both travel a lot?”

  “Yes, we like to show our faces to the clients who are investing so much money and trust in us.” He looked back up at my face.

  I nodded.

  “So there would be plenty of flights to book, hotels, car hire, conference rooms, restaurants all that kind of thing.”

  “That’s fine. Any other duties over and above the normal?”

  “Not that I can think of.” He swept his tongue over his bottom lip. “It’s just having two of us to handle that you need to be sure about.”

  “I can manage that.” Could I? Yes, of course. But damn this guy was cute as a button in a hot and sexy kind of a way. Blonds weren’t usually my type but his angular features and broad shoulders had made my temperature go up a degree or two.

  He curled his hands around the arms of the chair. I glanced at his left ring finger. It was bare. A surge of something scarily like excitement burst in my stomach. I beat it down. What was I doing? I hoped he was going to be my new boss. The man I’d have to be one step ahead of. There was no point thinking of him as a potential bed partner. That would be just too damn awkward for my job when things went wrong.

  I uncrossed my legs and smoothed at a crease on my skirt, and then pulled in a deep breath. “Would you like me to go through my qualifications?”

  “No.” He shook his head and smiled. “I’ve already looked. I can see that you’d be perfect for the job. You have over and above the experience we were hoping for.”

  “Oh … that’s good then.”

  “Yes. It is.” He stood and walked to the window, then stared out at the city sprawling in front of him. The fractured light littered his suit jacket and dust motes floated in the air around him. “When can you start?”

  “Er … pardon.”

  “When can you start?” He turned. “I’ll be completely honest with you, Stella.” He paused. “May I call you that?”

  “Yes. Of course. It’s my name.”

  The right side of his mouth twitched into a half smile. “Yes.” He sat in the big leather chair on the opposite side of his desk and studied me. “We need someone now. Someone who can start right away and get to grips with the job as quickly as possible. We’re a fast, dynamic company, there’s always something happening, we’re on the move, upwards, and there’s no time to waste.”

  “I understand that.”

  He nodded. “So you could start tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” I was expecting the beginning of the next month, or the following Monday, but tomorrow…

  “Yes. Tristan is away, I have a ton of things to be getting on with and I’m here in the office all week. I could show you the ropes so to speak. I’d be around to answer any questions you have.”

  “Isn’t the er … old PA here?” That would be usual procedure, to have a hand over as such. I wondered if it were the girl who’d shown me into the office.

  He shifted in his seat and his shoulders tensed. “No. She left, suddenly.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  He tilted his chin. “I guess Tristan and I…”

  A silence stretched between us. A clock ticked in the corner.

  “Tristan and you…?” I prompted.

  “We try to be thoughtful, considerate, not too demanding but sometimes, when our heads are full of a new project, new ideas, we can be a little distracted.”

  “I see.”

  “But we’ve vowed to do better. By you.” He leaned forward. “I want you, I mean we want you, to be happy here. To stay long term and enjoy your work. So please, anything you need, anything that’s not right. You must say, give us a chance to fix it before you walk away.”

  I couldn’t remember even agreeing to take the job on and yet here he was asking me not to leave.

  I stroked my necklace. Clearly they were desperate for someone to pick up the slack, sort out their diaries and the logistics of their lives. I could do that. And it was a very decent pay package too. “Am I the only applicant?”

  “The only one who could interview today.”

  “And you want me to start tomorrow?”

  “If you could, that would be great.”

  “And do you have more candidates to interview tomorrow?”

  “They’ll be cancelled immediately if you accept the position, Stella. I have a feeling you’re just what we need and I hope we’re just what you need.”

  “Well in that case.” I reached for my bag, then stood. I set back my shoulders and let a smile spread on my face. “Get on the phone and tell the agency the position is filled.”

  He grinned. “Great.” He also stood, then stretched his hand out.

  I took it. His fingers were big and warm and he shook with strength but also with a slight reserve that I suspected he kept for women.

  “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

  “Yes,” he said. “You will.”

  Chapter Two

  “And I need flights to Barcelona on the eighth, all the usual, hotel, parking etc. Plus, a nice restaurant to take the clients to, if you could sort that. Go for something fancy, with good reviews, we want to wow them with what we have to offer and wine and dine them.”

  “Okay.” I jotted everything down in shorthand. “And would you like me to book a driver or will you use taxis while you’re there?”

  Andre tapped his bottom lip with the tip of his index finger. Something I’d noticed he did a lot when thinking. “I’m sure taxis will be fine, don’t you?”

  “Yes, it’s not like there’s a shortage of them in Barcelona.”

  “I agree. Oh, and did that legal stuff from Gent come through?”

  “It’s on your desk,” I said. “It just needs checking and signing.”

  “I’ll get straight to it.” He glanced at his watch.

  “They’re hoping to have it returned by the end of the day.” Which meant he had one hour to do it. A push, it was a lot of reading, but it could be done.

  “Andre, I need to talk to you.” James, a young graduate from the graphic team rushed up, a large folder under his arm. He had dark hair, a bit over long, and his shirt was untucked.

  “Well I…” Andre said.

  “It will only take a few minutes.” James tapped the folder he was holding.

  “Okay then.” Andre turned and led the way to his office.

  I frowned. I’d had a phone conversation with Gent Ltd that morning. Their lawyers were hopping on the spot for the legal documentation so the whole project could get underway. I’d promised it would be seen by Andre immediately, but my new boss seemed to be permanently distracted by his team—it was a wonder he got anything done.

  I waited five minutes then stood and went to the door of his office, setting my hand on the frame.

  J
ames had spread a pile of images on the desk and was talking animatedly about them. “You see this one is perfect for their new range, the colors and the shapes just spring from the page, and this one is—”

  “Excuse me,” I said. “I hate to interrupt but Gent just called to make sure the documents were on the way.”

  “Oh … yes.” Andre loosened his tie and glanced at the legal file that was now covered with James’s artwork.

  “Perhaps James could make an appointment to come and show you the rest of this artwork. You’re free tomorrow at eleven for thirty minutes.”

  “But—” James started.

  “I think it would be for the best.” I folded my arms. Okay, so I was being bossy, I was organizing my employer’s day and workload, but that was my job. It was also clearly what he needed.

  James studied me for a moment, he looked about to say something but then obviously changed his mind. He began to gather his stuff, shuffling and shoving it away.

  Andre picked up the documents he needed to work through. Signing them would mean a cash injection of hundreds of thousands into the company. James’s fluttering thoughts and ideas about future jobs could wait. Gent was concrete business. Here and now.

  I stepped into the office to allow James to pass through the doorway. He still didn’t say anything to me.

  Andre sat heavily in his big seat and flipped open the first page of the file. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I would have liked to discuss the situation further with him, the way his staff thought they could just interrupt him at any moment, but that would mean I was as bad as them. No. I’d have to wait until we could talk without it interfering with things he’d had to prioritize, or rather I’d prioritized for him.

  I headed back to my desk and started planning his trip to Barcelona. It took me a little while to settle on a nice restaurant but I eventually found one I thought would be up to standard. It was on the waterfront and when I called and asked for the best table, they assured me it would be possible on a weekday evening.