Lord of Rain (The Dragon Demigods #5) - Charlene Hartnady Page 0,9

to be exact. Even before the harpy fucked me up.

She frowns. “That’s not true. No, it…” Her eyes widen in realization. “That is true, actually. Every time you go anywhere near a beautiful woman, they snap a pic and tell the world that you’re an item.”

“Even though it isn’t true.”

“That damned eligible bachelor status you’ve been saddled with is a problem.”

“It’s a fuck-up.” That’s putting it mildly. I’ve had some lunatic stalk me. I’m getting fan-mail…fan-fucking-mail. People have nothing better to do. That much is clear.

“You need a girlfriend,” she says.

“No way!”

“I need one hell of a raise then.”

“Done!” I growl.

“Fine, but unless you fall in love, you need to keep your nose clean and your dick dry. Are we clear?” She points at me.

“Clear as day.”

“Fine!” she snorts.

“Fine.”

I watch as she leaves. I lean back in my chair. The start of a headache I had earlier has now developed into a pounding between my temples. I put my fingers there and take a few deep breaths. When I open my eyes, I see the heavy stack of resumes on my desk. There are well over two hundred applicants, and this is the shortlist that was sent up from HR. My life will get infinitely easier if I find someone to replace Janet.

I need someone who is computer-literate, well-spoken but not a pushover. They would need to be well-organized, willing to work long hours, and most importantly, be able to deal with me. I’ve always been impatient, a bit of a bastard, if I’m honest. Since my run-in with the harpy three and a half months ago, I’ve been insufferable and I can’t help it. Back to Janet leaving. My ex-PA was a saint. One of the most patient people I have ever met…and I broke her. She emailed her immediate resignation and left before I could try to convince her to stay. One minute she was there, and the next she was gone.

I’m offering a healthy monthly paycheck complete with benefits to whoever gets the job. The position will seem too good to be true. The truth is that ‘too good to be true’ is a fallacy. You get nothing for free in this dog-eat-dog world. I have high standards and a short temper. I feel very sorry for the person who gets me as a boss. I might end up chewing my way through several candidates before I find the right fit. It is what it is.

I pick up the first resume and spot a typo as my eyes scan the document. I throw it into the trash. The next candidate, a thirty-five-year-old man, describes himself as being energetic, honest, experienced, and flexible. He goes on to add that he loves animals and children. I quirk a brow. I’ll crush Thomas Alderton in five seconds flat. I dump the next three as well, before putting a resume on the ‘maybe’ pile. I prefer facts and figures rather than flowery nonsense.

I almost throw the next one straight into the trash. Ashley Shaw has written her resume in a pretty font. I roll my eyes. Really? Does she actually think it’ll get her noticed? This is why I prefer not to have to do this myself. If only Janet had stayed long enough to help me replace her. She’s the only other person capable of knowing who would be the right fit for me. I grumble to myself as I take a quick glance at the resume in my hand. For the most part, the document ticks all the right boxes. I note that this person has only used three words to describe herself. Hardworking, patient, and creative.

She’s only ever worked for one company. A bakery…Shaw’s Buns and Breads. So not just any bakery but one owned by her family. That tells me that this little flowery princess is used to being coddled by her daddy. I almost smile. I’m tempted to call her in for an interview just to mess with her. If I had more time on my hands, I would. I’m about to toss her resume when I notice the list of her skills. It turns out that this candidate has worked in every part of the bakery from front-of-house to tackling administrative duties and everything in-between. A Jack-of-all-trades.

Fuck it!

I’m not sure why, but I put her resume on the ‘maybe’ pile. I’m giving the candidates five minutes to sell themselves to me. I can spare five minutes to see what she’s made of. I toss the