The Other Side of Greed (The Seven Sins #5) - Lily Zante Page 0,10

banded together and worked and had success in their endeavors.”

“And what do you want with Redhill?” I ask. He talks a good talk, but the cynic in me finds him too smooth, too practiced. More than that, it doesn’t make sense that someone who’s worked where he claims he has now wants to work here with us because he suddenly became enlightened on a trip.

He clears his throat, then sits up, straightening his back, his interlaced fingers resting on his stomach. He looks very business-like, even though he’s in casual clothes. He has an air about him which I can’t pinpoint.

“I only got back a few months ago—”

“To where?”

“Excuse me?”

“Got back to where?” I play with a paperclip, straightening it out so that it is a straight wire.

“Here, to Chicago.”

“I thought you said you worked in San Jose.”

He laughs uncomfortably. “I relocated to there from here. I’m from Chicago, through and through.” He eyes me for a second longer, as if he’s appraising me, as if he doesn’t trust me. “I didn’t want to get back into tech, and I’m looking at ways of helping the community. I liked the way people came together in poorer countries and I want to see if I can help in any way here. I read about your company.”

“Kyra’s everywhere lately,” Simona announces proudly. “She seems to get requests for interviews almost every week.”

“Not every week,” I say, dismissively. New guy laughs, revealing a row of perfect teeth. “I can see why. It’s impressive, what you’ve done here.”

“What is it that you want from us, Mr… Mr?”

“Hartley. Brad Hartley, but please, call me Brad.” He tilts his head. We hold gazes, before I find myself staring at the dusting of stubble across his face.

A rogue thought strays into my mind. He could be an undercover journalist wanting a story, but there is no story. This is nothing interesting, in regards to gossip for magazines. There is also nothing for me to distrust him about. Maybe the fact that he’s easy on the eye has put me on guard. Maybe Simona being smitten about him has furthered my reluctance to hire him.

“Thanks for your time, Mr. Hartley, but we don’t need anyone and we’re not looking for anyone at the moment.”

“Even working for free?”

That there, working for free, for a tech guy who used to work for start-ups, that doesn’t make sense. “Why would you want to work for free?” I can see Simona in my periphery, and I can feel the heat of her stare.

“If he’s offering,” Simona says. “We need all the help we can get.”

“I can bring you experience. I’ve run start-ups before. I know how to make a profit, and turn a business from failing to—”

I put him in his place. “This business isn’t failing.”

“I’m not talking about yours.” He holds his hand up by way of trying to placate me. I’m riled up, and I don’t get riled up. I usually have the patience of a Grandma but my gut instinct tells me not to take everything he says at face value.

“I can see that you’re obviously annoyed about something—”

“I’m not annoyed about anything.”

His tone turns a tad harsh. “I don’t understand why you would turn down a perfectly good offer. You could do wonders with this business.”

“We already are, believe me.”

He looks over at Simona. “I sense that this is a bad time, how about I leave my …” He gets up and slides his hand into the back pocket of his jeans. “My, uh …” He pulls out a cell phone. For a moment there, I thought he was going to pull out a business card.

“If you want to give me your contact number,” he says to Simona. That makes sense because he must know by now that I’m not so easily pleased. He seems to think he’ll have better luck appealing to Simona than to me. He’s right. “Or I could give you mine. You never know when you might need my help.”

He and Simona exchange numbers, then he bids us goodbye and leaves. I turn my attention straight to my computer, but Simona stands in front of me, her arms folded as she gazes down at me with her disapproval in her eyes.

“You weren’t very nice to him.”

“He’s arrogant.”

“Arrogant?” She gives a mirthless laugh. “Were we both at the same interview?”

“It wasn’t an interview.”

“No?” There is a shedload of questioning behind that simple question.

“I don’t trust him, Simona.”

“Pffffft. You haven’t trusted anyone since that man cheated