Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series)
Read Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) Online
Authors: Christina Ross
IGNITE ME
By
Christina Ross
Ignite Me
is a new book set in the
Annihilate Me
universe.
It’s a stand-alone extension of the
series that has sold more than one million books worldwide.
Although this new book
can be read on its own, readers will likely enjoy it more if they start with
the original
Annihilate Me
series,
then the
Unleash Me
series, and
finally the
Annihilate Me 2
series, as
they share many of the same characters.
Because of that, the experience will be dramatically deepened.
BELOW ARE THE
U.S. LINKS TO ALL OF MY BOOKS.
If you aren’t
in the U.S., you can search for them on your own country’s site.
ANNIHILATE ME, HOLIDAY EDITION
ANNIHILATE ME 2: OMNIBUS
ANNIHLATE ME 2: HOLIDAY
Also by Christina Ross:
Stand-alone novels
For my best
friend, Erika Rhys.
And for my
friends and my family.
And especially
for my readers, who mean the world to me.
Your support of
my career is unfounded.
Thank you for
following Brock and Madison’s story.
Copyright and Legal
Notice
: This publication is protected under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976 and
all other applicable international, federal, state, and local laws, and all
rights are reserved, including resale rights.
Any trademarks, service
marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their
respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied
endorsement if we use one of these terms. No part of this book may be
reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means (including
photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval) without
permission in writing from the author.
First ebook edition ©
2015.
Disclaimer
: This is a
work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead (unless explicitly
noted) is merely coincidental. Copyright © 2015 Christina Ross. All rights
reserved worldwide.
Discloser
: The shops at
Trump Tower actually open at eight a.m.
For the purposes of this book, they open at six in the morning.
The Donald has been accommodating to me
in ways that he doesn’t know and likely doesn’t care.
By
Christina Ross
CHAPTER ONE
New York City
June
“Madison
Wells?”
“Yes,” I said
to the severe-looking, fifty-something woman seated opposite me.
I was standing just inside her office,
which was high above the Wenn Enterprises Building on its fifty-first floor,
where she served as the company’s vice president of human resources.
She hadn’t asked me to sit down, so I
stood, trying like hell to look as relaxed as possible even though there was a
part of me that was unnerved just to be in her presence.
This woman, after all, had one hell of a
reputation, and none of it leaned toward the polite.
“I’m Madison
Wells.”
“And you’re
here because you think you have what it takes to become my personal
assistant?
Is that right?”
“I’m here for
exactly that reason, Ms. Blackwell.”
“Well, isn’t
that a relief?” she said.
“Of
course, some would wonder why in hell you’d even want to become my
assistant.
Some people would tell
you to run.
To vomit.
To change zip codes.
But those people don’t really matter in
this world, do they, Ms. Wells?
No,
they don’t.
They’re all just a bunch
of cowards who will go nowhere in their lives.
But how about you?
Will you move up in the world?
Your résumé certainly suggests that
you’re poised for that, but I guess time will tell, won’t it?
So, please,” she said, extending a hand
to the chair opposite her desk.
“Sit down.
We’ll talk.
I’ll assess.
And then I’ll let you know whether
you’ve gotten the job.”
“I’ll know
today?” I said.
“You’ll know in
twenty-five minutes.
I read people
very quickly, Ms. Wells, and I’m rarely wrong about them.
Beyond that, I don’t do
inefficiency—ever.
I also
hope that’s true for you, because if it isn’t, we should part ways right now.”
What have I
gotten myself into?
I thought.
“I can assure
you that I’m very efficient,” I said when her cell phone rang.
She glanced
over to see who was calling, and then she picked up the phone.
“Then I have to ask you this,
darling—if you are so efficient, why are you still standing there when
I’ve already asked you to sit down?”
I felt my face
flush.
“So, sit,” she
said.
“It’s easy enough to do,
isn’t it?
Well, at least for
some
people it is, I suppose.
Then there
are, you know—the others.
Give me one moment—I need to take this this call.”
She answered the line and leaned back in
her chair.
“Alex?
What do you need?
Is this about Brock?
Yes, I’m seeing him in thirty
minutes.
What’s on your mind?
No, no, all of that’s been taken care
of.
I’ve already relayed it to
Jennifer.
Don’t you two talk?
Or is it just about having sex these
days?
Trying to get pregnant and
all that?”
With my stomach
in knots, I took the seat she’d offered me, crossed my legs at the knee, and
kept my posture perfect.
While she
spoke into the phone, I forced myself to focus on everything I needed to show
her today.
Someone who was
firm and steady.
Smart and
quick.
Sharp and no-nonsense.
And perhaps most of all, given all the
research I’d done on the infamous Barbara Blackwell after she’d received my résumé
and called me herself to say that she’d like to meet with me
tout-de-suite
,
I also knew that I needed to be on the cutting edge of style when she first set
her eyes on me.
Since I was
pretty much broke thanks to a job that grossly underpaid me, that meant digging
out a credit card I used strictly for emergencies.
As such, I’d spent a God-awful fortune
on the pale-blue Stella McCartney business suit and matching pumps I was
wearing.
More money had been spent
on a fresh new haircut and color at one of the city’s best salons, an
indulgence I had to view as an investment in my future.
Otherwise, with those bills looming over
me, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.
My long,
straight brown hair had been lightened a bit and also given a few strategic
highlights that flattered a face I’d always considered too thin and angular,
not unlike the rest of my body, with the possible exception of my breasts,
which were full (a clear gift from my mother).
If I was going
to land a job with this woman, whom I had a feeling I could learn plenty from,
I knew from the powers of Google alone that I needed to bring my A-game to this
interview.
And so I was prepared to
do that.
“So,” Blackwell
said when she ended the conversation and put the phone down.
“Obviously, I’ve read your résumé with
interest.
And I see that you
received your M.B.A. from Harvard, which immediately makes me question why you
would want to be my personal assistant when obviously you could do something
far more better with that degree and earn more elsewhere.
So, enlighten me,” she said.
“Why?”
“When I
graduated from Harvard two years ago, I came to Manhattan in hopes of finding
something substantial, but because the competition is so fierce here—and
frankly, because I’m a woman competing in a man’s world—I didn’t find the
sort of luck that others did.”
“Oh, dear,”
Blackwell interrupted.
“Are you
about to tell me a hard-luck story, Ms. Wells?
Because if you are, I can promise you
that it won’t go over well with me.”
“No, no.
I was just trying to answer your
question as to why I’ve only worked as a personal assistant.”
She waved a
dismissive hand in the air.
“You’ve
got five minutes,” she said.
“Spill
it.
Tell me why a perfectly
good-looking Harvard grad would choose to settle the way you have?”
“When I
graduated college, I had very little money.
In order to survive here, I had to find
work as fast as possible in order to eat and pay my rent.
My first job was as the executive
assistant to a vice president at DuPont.
I worked there for nine months before I secured the job I have now.”
“Which presumably
pays you more?”
“A bit more.”
“A bit more?”
she said.
“Really?
What’s a bit more?
You are, after all, sitting before me in
a new Stella McCartney suit and shoes.
To afford those alone, the pay couldn’t be that bad. . . .”
“The pay is
horrible.
I purchased this outfit
with a credit card.”
Blackwell picked
up my résumé from her desk, put on a pair of narrow black glasses, and stared at
it before looking up at me.
“Moving
along.
As of right now, you’re the
executive assistant to a vice president at Microchip?”
“That’s right.”
“Besides your
meager salary, are you unhappy with Microchip for other reasons?”
“I am.
I decided to take my current position
with them because, at my interview, they held out a big fat carrot of
advancement to me.
They promised me
that, within a short period of time, I’d receive a serious promotion, a new job
within the company that was more in line with my skill set.
While they seemed sincere at the time,
let’s just say that, in the end, I was conned.
After fourteen months with the company,
I’ve been offered nothing.”
“And why is
that?
Who’s to say that they won’t
eventually give you a promotion?”
“I suppose
there’s always the chance that they could.
But during my time at Microchip, I’ve seen them promote men faster than
they’ve promoted women.
I’m as
well-schooled as any of my male colleagues, and yet time and again, they have
been the ones who have received the promotions.
I think my problem is my gender.
In each of the positions I’ve worked for
since coming to Manhattan, I’ve worked for a man.
I think it’s time that I work for a
woman who might have a greater understanding of gender inequalities in the
workplace.
And I think that person
is you.”
“Based on
what?”
“Based on the
fact that you’re a successful and respected businesswoman.
You’ve made it to the top.
Since getting there couldn’t have always
been easy for you, I have a feeling that you’ve had to work hard to get to
where you are today.
I’m not afraid
of hard work.
But I am wholly
against being treated unfairly.”
“Perhaps the
real reason you haven’t been promoted is because your work is subpar. . . .”
“You already
know that isn’t the case.
DuPont
and Microchip have given me excellent evaluations.
I included them with my résumé.
You’ve read them yourself.”
“Oh,” she
said.
“Yes.
Those.
They slipped my mind.”
The hell they
did.
“So, why Wenn?”
she said.
“What brought you here?”
“Wenn is a huge
corporation filled with opportunities.
And then there’s you.
You
were one of the main draws.”
“Flattery will
get you nowhere with me, Ms. Wells.”
“It’s still the
truth.
I think that in order for me
to ever have a chance to rise to my full potential in this city, I need to work
for a woman who has walked the walk before me.
Someone who also has suffered.”
“And you think
that I’ve suffered?”
“In your early
days, I know that you did.”
“Well, now I’m
intrigued,” she said as she leaned toward me.
“What exactly do you know about me, Ms.
Wells?”
“In order to be
fully prepared for this interview, I went to the Internet and read some stories
about the rise of your success that were written for reputable publications.”
“How perfectly
invasive. . . .”
“I hoped that you
would see it another way.”
“Which way?”
“Why would I
waste your time or mine applying for this job if I didn’t know whom I might be
working for?
Believe me, after my
previous two bosses, that matters a great deal to me.
What I learned from reading about you is
just how hard you had to work yourself in an effort to move up through the
ranks before you became one of the most powerful women at Wenn today.
That’s not me flattering you—it’s
a fact.
And before we go much
further, I think that you deserve to know exactly where I’m coming from when it
comes to this job.
If you do decide
to hire me, I’ll be happy to work as your personal assistant for one full
year.
I will commit to that on
paper.
But after that?
Wenn Enterprises has a multitude of
opportunities that I’ll eventually want to tap into.
I am not looking at this as a long-term
commitment.
Instead, as with my
previous two jobs, I see this as an opportunity to get my foot in the door and
to prove myself so I can earn an even better position based on my education,
skills, and work ethic.
Isn’t that
what we all want?” I asked.
“To be
recognized for all of those things?
All I’m seeking is a chance to finally have that opportunity.”
“Just how hard
have you tried with Microchip to improve your position there?”
“In the past
six months alone, I’ve applied for seven internal positions.
Each time, those jobs went to men who
weren’t nearly as qualified as I am.
And I can tell you right now that I’m over it.
I might be young, but I’m not
stupid.
I’m twenty-seven years old,
I was born and raised in Wisconsin, and I’ve spent my life preparing for my
move to Manhattan.
I came here to
make something of myself, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes for that to
happen as long as I feel that there is a real chance for me to succeed within
the company that I work for.”
