“I need a new PA,” he said, lounging in his leather chair. “I did a little digging after overhearing your … conversation with Clint. I learned a lot of things about you. You’re meticulous. Dependable. Highly efficient. Hyper-organized. You don’t balk at hard work, you have a positive attitude, you’re good at multi-tasking, and you’ve been a great right-hand person for Clint. And I saw—or, more precisely, overheard—that you can handle difficult characters. I need all that in a PA.”
“Don’t you already have one?”
“Yes. She can’t deal with the workload and would prefer to spend her time flirting with me. Needless to say, she doesn’t have a future as my PA.”
I licked my lower lip. “Not that I’m trying to talk myself out of a job but, well, my way of handling ‘difficult characters’ isn’t always in a calm, professional manner.”
“But if Clint could have been handled using a calm, professional manner, you’d have gone down that route, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t need someone who’s always polite. You’ll come into contact with a lot of strong, demanding, self-entitled characters—me included. If you’re sweet and agreeable and can’t handle yourself, they’ll eat you alive. I need someone who won’t be railroaded.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “I’m good at recognizing talent and skills in people; at knowing where and how they’d be useful within my company. I believe this position would suit you. But, be warned, it isn’t a dream job. I’m not an easy man to work for; I’m a perfectionist who has little room for error. By doing the amount of jobs—big and small—that I’ll be requiring you to do, you’ll be expected to be ten people at one time. I need someone who can keep on track with everything, who won’t need any direct supervision, and who isn’t going to start sniffling if I’m not nice to them. I believe that’s you. So, care to take a chance and see if I’m right?”
I’d taken the chance. He hadn’t lied. A lot of pressure came with the job, and he could be a nightmare to handle sometimes—mostly because he had very strict standards for others and himself, and he had no tolerance for anyone who couldn’t keep up. He could also be inflexible and overly detail orientated. Any displays of laziness, inefficiency, or a bad work ethic from his employees were met with chillingly insensitive putdowns.
He also tended to forget that, unlike him, not everyone was married to their job. But in many other ways, he was a good boss. He paid well, looked after his employees, rewarded hard work, and didn’t tolerate any workplace bullshit.
Moreover, he’d once been my fucking hero—he’d stepped in when I thought everything would come crumbling down around me and he’d fixed the situation without batting an eyelid. For that alone, I’d always be loyal to him. Of course, he’d made it clear that he hadn’t done it to be “nice” and that he’d call in a favor one day but—
“Speak of the psychopath …”
At Hanna’s words, I snapped back to attention. My gaze flew to the elevator and, sure enough, Dane came walking out with that purposeful, sexy as hell, alpha-male stride. He looked so self-possessed and implacable it made my pulse skitter and my hormones sigh in appreciation.
The dark tailored suit looked damn good on him, but no suit could hide the menace that seemed to lurk just beneath the very controlled surface he showed to the world. That menace occasionally flared in his eyes or deepened his voice.
“We’ll talk later.” Hanna pushed away from my desk. “I want to hear how it went with the ex.” She hurried away, bidding Dane a good afternoon as she passed.
I was pretty sure he grunted by way of hello, but it was hard to tell from all the way over here. Taking in his default unimpressed expression, one might think he suffered from chronic indifference. It tended to make people nervous; they often seemed compelled to try to please or amuse him. The latter was truly a waste of time. In all the years I’d worked for him, I’d never heard him laugh. Not. Once.
I flashed him my receptionist smile as he neared me. “Afternoon, Dane.”
He flicked up his brows ever so slightly—his usual way of greeting me. Well, it was more than a lot of people got.
Grabbing some papers from my desk, I followed him into his sleek, spacious, masculine office. The glossy,