She was the only one I could count on to keep my current location a secret.
Having a degree in marketing might not have been exactly relevant to this personal assistant position at an import company, but it would have looked a whole lot better than leaving during my final semester because…
No, I wasn’t going to dwell on the past. Not going to give it a moment’s thought. And the employment agency said no degree was required. They kept telling me that, and I kept getting rejected.
I smoothed my sweaty palms on my skirt, jolting again when Mr. Fokin cleared his throat. Looking up, I was once again taken by how good-looking he was. Older, but not quite yet a silver fox with his sandy hair that looked like he’d neatly combed it and then it decided to defy him anyway. Only his own hair would dare defy someone that tall and broad, with a hint of a scowl that made his jaw all the more chiseled. He slowly blinked his green eyes at me and set my resumé aside as if it weren’t worth mentioning.
Which it wasn’t.
A burst of fury had me sitting up straighter and lifting my chin. The nearly blank page wasn’t my fault, but I wasn’t one to make excuses or play the victim, either. To hell with that.
“Shall we begin?” he asked, voice deep and rich and with a hint of an accent I couldn’t place, but wanted to hear more of.
“Certainly,” I said as if I had six degrees and had been working in the import business all my life.
“What made you apply for this job?” he asked.
Easy enough. A paycheck to keep a roof over my head. “Organization is a skill I excel in—”
“Let me guess,” he interrupted my well-rehearsed spiel. “It’s your passion.”
I bit my lip and plowed on, ignoring the heat rising to my cheeks. “It’s an important facet to this position," I said, keeping my chin up. Hardass was an understatement. He also had a bullshit detector that cut straight through my practiced answer.
“Tell me why you’d like to work at an import business.”
“I’m interested in the process,” I said.
“What process is that?” he asked, tapping his fingers on his desk.
“I’m sorry,” I said, half standing up, unable to ignore my flaming face anymore. “I think I might be in the wrong office. I’m applying for the personal assistant job.”
“Yes, and you’ll be assisting the president of the company, so it would be nice if you knew about the process you’re so interested in. Now, please sit back down. Unless you no longer want the job?”
I sat. “I want it,” I said. “I just didn’t know if it was the right one with these questions.”
“Is being a personal assistant your ultimate goal, Miss Gardner?” he asked, with an almost accusatory tone.
“Right now,” I said, riding the line between honesty and not wanting to ruin my chances.
Was that a spark lighting up his green eyes, which had turned darker than a dense forest at my first fumble? “What doyou see in your future, then?” he asked. “If you should have one at Gavrik Imports.”
“It wasn’t bull—It wasn’t a lie when I said I was interested in the process,” I said. “From the beginning idea of a product, to the creation and distribution, and especially finding the perfect customer. Especially that.” Now that I had started speaking, I was on a roll, and his subtle shift toward me encouraged me to keep going. “I’d love to work my way up to market research one day. Though I’d be thrilled to be an assistant in the company for as long as it takes.”
“Thrilled, eh?” he said.
Note to self. This guy was immune to sucking up. His assessing stare had me turned inside out. He was too handsome, too big, and intimidating, and I was sure I had screwed up somehow, despite answering all his questions and spilling my guts. All I could do was maintain my dignity until he told me to get lost.
He seemed determined to find fault with all my answers, and suddenly, I didn’t want to play along anymore if this was his idea of fun. With his fancy watch and designer suit that cost more than my junky old car was worth, he might have had time to waste, but I didn’t.
With a shrug, I started to rise again, but his sudden smile knocked me back in my seat. I’d never actually seen anyone with a dazzling smile before, and it almost made me forget what a jerk he was.
“You have the job, Miss Gardner.”
I blinked, certain I was only hearing what I wanted so badly to hear. That the struggle was almost over.
“I do? I mean, thank you, Mr. Fokin. I can’t wait to get started.”
“Good, and call me Rurik, it takes less time. How about today?”