My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend - Max Monroe Page 0,38
dream,” I tease slightly, and she shakes her head.
“No, it’s fine.”
I laugh. “I appreciate your attempt at being diplomatic, kid, but Rainbow Press is not where you’re going to end up.”
She tilts her head to the side, and I watch the way a few long locks of her hair slide across her shoulders. She worries her bottom lip with her teeth, and then finally, shrugs her defeat. “I’m confused.”
“Think of this interview as a practice interview,” I explain. “I’m certain you’ll get the job, but I don’t want you to actually accept the job.”
“Wait…” She pauses and searches my eyes. “You want me to go to this interview already knowing I’m not going to accept the job?”
I smile and wink. “Bingo. That’s exactly what I want you to do.”
“You realize that makes no sense, right?”
“Just trust me on this. You’re going to hold out for something that’s bigger and better. Something like Beacon House.” I smirk. “But you’re going to need an offer on the table in order to do that.”
“You sound insanely certain.”
“Because I know how a thriving company like Beacon House works,” I answer with conviction. “I already know they’re not currently looking to add any editors to their roster, but I also know they don’t want to miss a new, up-and-coming, sought after editor who graduated from a prestigious school like Stanford.”
She stays quiet for a long moment, and I watch her closely. I might not know much about women, but I know Maybe looks damned beautiful when she’s deep in thought.
“You really think this is a surefire plan?”
I lean back in my leather chair. “I didn’t turn ten thousand dollars in credit card debt into a thriving billion-dollar business without having this kind of foresight. Stick with me, kid.”
“Okay,” she finally agrees, raising both fists above her head in a pathetic excuse for a cheer. “Beacon House, here I come.”
I laugh. “First stop, Rainbow Press. Next stop, the job of your dreams.”
Her responding smile lights up the damn room. “God, I hope you’re right.”
“I am,” I say with the kind of confidence you can’t fake. “You’re going to do big things in the publishing industry.”
An adorable snort escapes her nose. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true,” I correct her and proceed to grab a piece of paper from my desk and jot down the information for her interview.
Next Tuesday 2:00 pm with Cassandra Cale, editor in chief at Rainbow Press
“When you get to the lobby, ask for her,” I explain and slide the paper across the surface of my desk until it meets her fingertips.
She takes it into her hands, scanning it quickly. “I thought you hadn’t set this up yet?”
I shrug. “I guess I fibbed.”
She grins and waves her hands around the office at my photographs with celebrities, Business Bureau Awards, and original Pollock paintings. The one solid wall of my office is covered from corner to corner, and the other three are made of glass. “You better watch that nose, Pinocchio. There’s a whole lot of valuable, breakable shit in this room.”
I smile, stand from my chair, and circle the end of my modern black desk to lean into the other side—closer to her.
“What are you up to for the rest of the day?” I ask as a means to distract myself from reaching out to grab her trim waist.
“Uh…I don’t know… Go home. Take these heels off. Figure out TapNext.”
“TapNext?” My eyebrows draw together.
“It’s a dating app,” she explains, but it’s not the app I don’t know. A good friend of mine by the name of Kline Brooks created that hugely successful dating app many moons ago. It’s based on the standard dating model, but it’s undeniably better in every area possible. More secure. More clients. And the highest match success rate in the country. “My friend Lena, the one I went shopping with, wants me to try it out with her.”
Discomfort comes out of nowhere and fills my throat, but I swallow it down. She doesn’t need some asshole raining on her parade.
“Anyway, Lena is convinced my dating card is about to be so full I won’t even know where to begin.” She rolls her eyes, and then a tiny, nervous smile kisses her lips. “I’m not sure if I should be excited or terrified.”
I nod, but I don’t need a mirror to know it’s stiffer than normal.
“What’s that look for?” she asks, noting my sudden silence.
“Nothing.”
She quirks a brow. “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”