The Athlete and the Aristocrat

by Louisa Masters

  “The interviews were not good.” Paul’s response was knife-sharp. “I have never seen such poorly screened candidates in my life. If we wanted to interview random people, we would have collected them from the street.” He never raised his voice, and his ire was entirely aimed at Nicolas, but Si was still glad for the bulk of the table between them. He raised an eyebrow at Lucien, who grinned evilly.

  “Impossible! I select. They perfect for job,” Nicolas insisted, his shock clear.

  Paul flicked a glance at Lucien, who quickly and concisely described their experience with Applicant One. He was not even halfway done when Nicolas interrupted.

  “Excusez-moi—Er, excuse me, monsieur, can you be speak more slow?”

  “Tell him in French,” Si said. The man would have enough to deal with, without having to translate as well.

  “Are you certain?” Paul asked, and he nodded.

  The conversation went fairly quickly after that, although of course Si didn’t understand a word of it. Nicolas sounded fairly adamant, and Paul was implacable. Lucien said little, but watched and listened with an expression of intense amusement. It ended with Nicolas seeming to make assurances about something.

  “Well?” Si asked.

  Paul shook his head. “He says not only are those not the candidates he selected, they are not even among those he rejected. He has never heard those names before. He will make sure that this afternoon’s interviews have been arranged with the right people, and will look into what happened.” He smiled grimly. “It won’t happen again. I am most sorry that your time was wasted.”

  Lucien waved a hand. “It was not your fault. This was Nicolas’s warning, yes?”

  Paul nodded. “If he does not correct the situation immediately, we will not use him again.”

  Wow. That seemed kind of harsh to Si, but on the other hand, after knowing Lucien just a couple of weeks he already knew he worked incredibly full days, starting before seven and often finishing the day with a business dinner. Paul had probably had to reschedule other appointments in order to clear this day for interviews.

  “Shall I arrange lunch?” Paul asked. Si glanced at his watch. It was a little early still, but by the time it arrived… and if those hadn’t been the “real” applicants, then they might need to fit in some more interviews this afternoon. He glanced at Lucien and shrugged.

  Paul’s phone rang, and all three of them turned their focus on it.

  “You handle it,” Lucien told Paul.

  Paul picked up the handset and answered. The conversation that followed—in French, of course—was extremely frustrating for Si, because it mostly seemed to consist of Nicolas speaking and Paul murmuring agreement. There wasn’t much that Lucien could even translate for him, although he did say that more applicants would be coming for interviews in the early afternoon.

  Finally the call ended, and Paul turned to them with a satisfied expression. “This morning’s interviewees were indeed the wrong candidates. The correct ones have been contacted.”

  “What happened?” Si asked. “I mean, how did we end up with the dregs?”

  Paul snorted. “The dregs are exactly what they are. Over one hundred people applied for the roles, and Nicolas’s assistant screened the applicants and only forwarded to him those who met our requirements. He then interviewed them and narrowed down the list to the ones who were supposed to come here today. He gave that list to his assistant to organize the interviews. She has an intern working with her this week, whom she thought could be trusted with so simple a task as calling to schedule appointment times, however the boy inadvertently accessed the wrong folder.”

  “You’re joking,” Lucien stated flatly.

  “I wish I were. Needless to say, Nicolas assured me that his services are free of charge on this occasion.”

  Si inwardly cheered. The recruitment agency had offered them a discount because the Morel Corporation was an important repeat client, but their fee was still in the thousands per role filled.

  Lucien’s focus was elsewhere. “And I imagine he will not be taking on more interns any time soon.”

  Si just shook his head. “Did he send through the résumés of the new candidates?”

  Paul nodded. “He has just emailed them to me. I will print them and bring them in, and then order lunch. What would you like?”

  As Paul whisked around with his usual efficiency, Si hoped that the administrator they hired for On the Ball was even half as good as he was.

  Although maybe a little less scary when pissed off, because Si was bound to piss them off at some stage.

  THEY were nearly done with the interviews when Lucien got bored.

  Si knew he was bored because he’d been the epitome of professionalism—as they’d both agreed to be—all day, but suddenly now he seemed to have an uncontrollable need to run his hand up Si’s thigh.

  Si ignored it.

  Well, he tried to.

  Okay, so it was bloody well impossible to ignore. He knew exactly what that hand was capable of, how it could make him feel, and having it so close to his dick, with the thumb stroking softly back and forth, played havoc with his nerves.

  But the woman across the table was their best candidate for the administrator role, and she probably wouldn’t want to work for him if he interrupted her to straddle Lucien and grind all over him.

  So he did his best to shut out the distraction that was the tall, gorgeous blond beside him, and forced himself to focus on….

  Bugger, what was her name again?

  He snuck a glance at the résumé in front of him. Anna. That was it. He forced himself to focus on Anna.

  Who was smiling faintly at him.

  How long has it been since she finished talking?

  It couldn’t have been long, right? Lucien would have said something, surely.

  Maybe.

  Si smiled back at her. “I have one more question, Anna—are you a football fan?” After the morning’s debacle, he’d made a point of asking all the candidates that, much to Lucien’s amusement.

  Anna laughed. “I am. In fact, I am very proud of myself for not demanding your autograph. I think I have been very restrained and professional.”

  “You have,” Lucien affirmed with a grin. “Thank you for coming, Anna. It has been a pleasure to meet you.” He stood, finally removing his damn hand from Si’s leg, and showed her out. Si seized the opportunity to move his chair a little farther away. They still had to discuss which candidates they preferred, and he didn’t want to risk more distraction. Lucien had promised him the final say, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to talk him around.

  Si had discovered that Lucien could be very convincing.

  “You didn’t have to rush her out,” he said when Lucien came back. “I was going to offer to sign something for her.”

  Lucien paused momentarily, then finished closing the door. “I actually thought she was the one you wanted to hire,” he replied, taking his seat, then frowning slightly when he noticed the new distance between them. “I didn’t think she would need your autograph because when she’s working for you, she’ll be asking you to sign things all the time.”

  Si snorted. “Funny. So you think she’s the one?”

  Grabbing a pen, Lucien skimmed Anna’s résumé again. “Yes. The others are just as qualified, but she has previous experience working with charities, and you seemed to get along with her a little better. Am I wrong?”

  “No.” Si almost wished he were, and that Anna hadn’t been his pick, too. He’d been looking forward to exercising his final say. “You’re right. She’s the one I want.”

  “Excellent.” Lucien made a note on a pad. “Now, what about the bookkeeper?”

  Because of the schedule change and additional interviews, they hadn’t had time to discuss the bookkeeper role before the administrator candidates had begun arriving.

  “That’s trickier,” Si admitted. “I liked Michel—the second guy—but he doesn’t have as much experience
as the others, and none with charities.” His gut was pulling him in that direction, but with no reasonable argument to back it up, he wasn’t sure he wanted to follow it. If he’d been playing football he would have, no question—following his gut in the face of all logic had led to some of the best moments of his career. But this wasn’t football, where a split-second decision under pressure could be excused if it went wrong. This was business, and he was supposed to use logic and reason. He needed to show he was capable of managing On the Ball in a manner that would convince his backers they’d made the right choice.

  Wasn’t he?

  “That’s true,” Lucien said, staring off into the distance. A moment later he looked down and shuffled through the résumés and notes in front of him until he found what he wanted. “Why did you like him?”

  “You mean for the job?” Si asked uncertainly. Lucien looked up and grinned.

  “Yes, of course. I’m not accusing you of impropriety, Simon!” he teased.

  Si slumped back in his chair. “Well, he was confident but not arrogant. He didn’t interrupt while we were speaking or try to prove how much he knew, but he answered all our questions without hesitating or talking in circles. He’ll probably have to deal with a lot of teenagers with big egos and their parents, so it’s important he has the confidence not to back down. He was easy to talk to, and he speaks French, English, German, and a bit of Italian, which will probably come in useful since we’ll be working with so many countries.”

  Lucien nodded. “I agree.”

  “You do?” Si blinked. “Agree that the languages will be useful, or that Michel is a good candidate?”

  “Both. The first woman had far more experience, and the other man had worked with charities, but they both spoke only French and English, and the man didn’t speak English that well. The woman also seemed somewhat introverted to me, and as you said, teenagers with egos and sports parents can be aggressive, especially when they need money to play. Since this will be a customer-facing role, we need someone who can deal with the customers. I think Michel would be a good choice.”

  Once again Si was faced with conflicting emotions. He knew he should be pleased Lucien agreed with his choices, but damn it, he had that final say card, and he really wanted to use it!

  “Okay then,” he said, because what else could he do? Lucien made another note on his pad.

  “That only leaves one role.”

  Yeah. The one role they’d argued over on and off since they’d met. Si planned to do a lot of the interviewing and screening for the program himself, but based on his research and projections, they would probably receive more applications than he could handle alone. Anna would do a lot of the preliminary reviewing of applications, making sure all forms were filled in correctly and that there were no obvious points to disqualify the applicant—like not being eligible for a club team—and Michel would do the financial searches to ensure there was actually a need for funding, but somebody needed to properly read each application, and speak to coaches and trainers and the applicant themselves, to ensure that they were serious about developing their playing ability. Initially, there was also a need to visit around the clubs and make sure people knew the program existed and what it could provide.

  Si would need help with that, especially since he was also supposed to be managing the program overall. The problem was who to hire. He wanted another former footballer, or a coach or trainer, someone who had experience on the ground, so to speak, and knew what to look for on the field. Lucien disagreed. Since the applicants would already need to be club eligible, he argued, there was no need to assess their ability, and thus an athlete was not necessary. Anybody with experience screening charitable applications would be suitable.

  It had been a point of contention as explosive as the office location, and in fact the only reason they hadn’t argued over it more was because they’d agreed the office took priority over staff. Although, once the office had been decided on, they still hadn’t been able to agree, to the point that Paul had discreetly suggested that he hold off on advertising for the role.

  But now it was crunch time. C’mon, Si. Do this the logical way.

  “I have a specific candidate in mind,” he said slowly. Perhaps arguing the benefits of hiring one particular person would carry more weight than arguing for a nonspecific entity.

  Lucien raised a brow. “Oh?”

  Si nodded. “Yes. Do you remember Tim Baker?”

  Lucien’s gaze sharpened. “He played with you for several years. An excellent player, although not as flashy as some.” Si tried not to wince. Did Lucien think he’d been a flashy player? He wouldn’t be the first one to say it. “He was also your teammate on the 2012 British Olympic team, and on the English team for the 2010 World Cup. Then he blew out his knee and retired. I haven’t heard anything about him since.”

  “Right,” Si said, pushing aside his insecurities. He had done some things on the field that could be termed flashy, but nobody had ever accused him of hogging the limelight, so he had to get over it. “Well, after he retired he had several more surgeries on his knee. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of injury that only prevented him from playing professionally. The damage he sustained means that even more than three years later, he still walks with a limp. His wife left him, although if you ask me that was no great loss. They never had kids, and his parents are dead, so he’s basically alone except for some friends. He’s been filling his time the last two years by volunteer coaching a community team for underprivileged kids, but I found out when I talked to him just after Easter that the funding’s been cut for the program. Since he was volunteering anyway, he tried to get them to keep the team together, but without money for equipment and insurance, the local council’s unwilling to do so.” Si paused and drew in a deep breath. Lucien’s face gave nothing away. “He has a bachelor’s degree in business, and this isn’t his first volunteer job. I think he’d be a really good fit for this role. He’s dedicated to supporting underprivileged kids in the sport, he’s smart, he knows football, and I’m pretty sure he’d be willing to travel. He was one of the few guys I’ve played with who didn’t whine about it.” Si stopped talking. He didn’t want to ramble. He’d made his points, and now he needed to see what Lucien’s response was.

  Tim really would be great in the role, though. He didn’t have any specific experience screening charity applications, but then neither did Si.

  Lucien leaned back in his chair. “He does sound like an excellent candidate,” he admitted finally. “I would prefer to have someone with charitable experience, but we are unlikely to find anybody who also has that level of dedication to developing youth in football.”

  “So…?” Si didn’t want to assume anything, but it sounded like Lucien was in favor of Tim. Did that mean he wouldn’t get to use his final say? Bugger.

  “I would like to speak with him. We would have interviewed for this position anyway. You already know Tim, but I would like the opportunity to assess his suitability myself.”

  “Of course,” Si said without hesitation. “I’ll call and tell him about the position, and that we’d like to speak to him about it.”

  “He doesn’t know?” Lucien’s surprise was like a slap in the face.

  “No! Of course not. We hadn’t even advertised. Did you think I just went and blurted to him that I wanted him for the job without talking to you first?” His defensive tone was probably not logical and reasonable, but he couldn’t help it.

  “I apologize,” Lucien said smoothly. “I did assume that due to your friendship you might have mentioned it to him. I should have known better.” The formal words were at odds with the Lucien that Si had come to know, who defaulted to irreverent when around friends. Still, the sentiment was appreciated.

  “Thank you,” Si said stiffly, trying to let his resentment go. His ego had taken a real battering today, what with being called a degenerate and a flashy player and then essentially accused of unprofessionalism. Accused? Exaggerati
ng, aren’t you, mate?

  Lucien reached out and caught hold of his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, gaze locked with Si’s. Damn those blue eyes and their clear sincerity.

  Si took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s fine,” he said. “I can understand why you would think what you did. No harm done.” And he meant it. It was a simple misunderstanding, but he’d let it get to him. He grinned at Lucien. “You’ll just have to make it up to me later,” he added suggestively.

  Lucien laughed. “I have to check my messages and probably return some calls before I can leave. Why don’t you call Tim, and we can rendezvous at the elevator in about half an hour?”

  It was actually far more likely to be an hour or possibly longer, so Si said, “I’ll call Tim and let you know what he says, and then if you’re still busy, I’ll go and shop for dinner for us, and meet you back at the apartment.”

  Lucien glanced at the closed door, then lunged forward and kissed Si, a quick kiss that was barely more than lips smacking together. While Si sat there blinking, wondering if it had really happened, Lucien stood and gathered his things. “I will let Paul know which candidates we are hiring. Thank you for organizing dinner. I’m glad you’re here.”

  He left while Si was still trying to remember how to think in complete sentences.

  “HEY, Si.”

  Si frowned. He’d never heard his friend and former teammate sound so down. “Hey, Tim. How’s things?”

  “Oh, you know. Same as always. Bit more interesting for you, though, Mr. Three-way.” His tone brightened on the last, and Si chuckled.

  “The online version of my life is much raunchier than reality,” he said, “although there is something interesting in the works. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

  Tim laughed. “Si, mate, you know I don’t care that you bat for both teams, but it’s not something I’ve ever wanted to try.” Tim was one of the few people outside his family who knew for certain of Si’s bisexuality.

  “Nah, you’re not my type,” Si joked back, as he always did. “I like ’em better-looking than you.” He leaned back in his chair, wondering if it would be too unprofessional to put his feet up on the table. Yes, yes, it would be.