Surviving Love (Montana Wilds Book 1) (25 page)

“Yes, and it was the absolute best sex of my entire life. I am not kidding. Women try to get interviews just for some time with him. But he is exclusive. He chooses his admin with care, and generally doesn’t stray from her. Monogamous.” Kimberly’s voice dropped lower. She was fanning herself freely now. “It was so hot, Olivia. So, so hot. He was totally in control, and I swear it was just one big, long orgasm. Oh holy moly…”

She reached across me to grab my napkin and then dabbed her face.

“So…” My mind raced, not really believing my ears, and definitely not believing that Miss Goodie-Goodie Kimberly, who had never done anything crazy in college, was capable of something like this. Of doing something like this. And then passing it on to a friend!

I wanted to giggle, or squeal. My reaction to this revelation was as strange as the information itself. “How can that be legal?”

“Each person goes through a serious vetting process, with background checks and…other tests, and you get this lengthy contract going over all the working conditions just to be an admin. His office obviously has very sensitive information. And then there is this other contract for the more…personal side. And that protects him, lays out various stipulations, etc. You can say no at any time, but if you say no too often, he views it as a breach of contract. He needs the whole package.”

“Do many girls say no?”

“
No!
Are you kidding? Just one time with him, and I’m addicted. I wouldn’t say no.”

“Then why does anyone leave?”

“For the same reason I’m not interviewing again—I have a steady boyfriend whom I love. Whom I might marry. I couldn’t do that to him.”

All I could do was blink. This should’ve been so far out of my comfort level that I shut the idea down immediately. This should’ve been so far out of Kimberly’s! But something strange had taken over my body. Some wild streak that was tired of being stepped on. That was tired of being dragged through love only to realize I was being used. For once, I almost wanted to do something where the boundaries were clearly set, where there was no emotion, and both parties got what they wanted. Business. Blessed, unfeeling business.

“I cannot believe I am actually entertaining this,” I said into my coffee.

“I know.” Kimberly turned back to her nearly empty cup and stared down into its depths. “I couldn’t believe I’d considered it, either. And then I couldn’t believe I…you know. And here I am, totally wishing I could go for that interview. It’s crazy. The whole setup is absolutely crazy, and you would not believe the high-powered professionals interviewing for it.”

“And no one reports him?”

Kimberly waved her hand through the air, unconcerned. “The interviews are by invitation only. People know what they’re getting into when they show up.”

“And the other applicants…they’re high-powered?”

“Oh yeah.” Kimberly huffed. “And beautiful. I don’t usually feel insecure, but…”

My mouth dried up. I had to swallow a few times just to croak out, “Why did you tell me? If you were insecure, I’ll be the ugly girl in the corner.”

Kimberly gave her customary sweet smile. “You will not! And why not you? You’re really smart, really driven, and you have a bright future. I would’ve mentioned it sooner—even though it
is
a little…risqué—but I didn’t know you’d be interested in admin work.”

I gawked at her. “You thought I’d be fine with the…extra stuff, but didn’t think the
work
was up my alley?”

Kimberly giggled. “It sounds ridiculous when you spell it out, but…yes. Totally.” She giggled again. “Anyway, you’re young, you have nothing going on, and you need the money—you owe it to yourself to meet him. That’s probably all it’ll take. And besides, I hear he treats his admins really well. No one has ever complained about any part of the job…”

I took another bite of my sandwich with butterflies in my belly and confusion racing through my mind. I shook my head.

“I’ll just text you the info…” Kimberly snatched her phone off the counter.

“Better write it down on the newspaper—my phone was cut off about an hour ago…”

L
ater that night
I walked into the apartment I shared with a roommate with Kimberly’s laptop under my arm. She’d said it was her old one. It was at least two years newer than mine.

Her note with a date, time, address, and contact name of the interview with Hunter Carlisle burned in my pocket. I’d be crazy to go. Getting hired for admin work was one thing, but answering to a boss sexually as well?

Despite the insane tingles that blasted through me every time I thought about it, I just wasn’t the type of girl that said yes to things like that. And if I was honest with myself—really, truly honest—I was confident with my shortcomings. I was a bit too curvy, a little too plain, and my overall vibe definitely too average. If Hunter Carlisle didn’t hire a girl like Kimberly, there was no way I would even get in the door. I was okay with all that. The world needed plain, smart girls, too. I wasn’t in a hurry to break my natural levelheadedness just to be turned down. Leave the fast lane for those seeking a thrill.

I dropped my stuff in my small bedroom and made my way to the kitchen to make some tea. I wanted to look at the latest job postings before bed.

“Oh. You’re home.”

I winced as Jane, my roommate, slouched into the kitchen in holey sweats with stains down the front. Half of her hair had escaped her ponytail and now frizzed around her head. She leaned against the counter with a scowl.

“Rent is due in five days,” she said in a dry voice.

I filled the kettle with water and switched it on. “I know, Jane. I’ll have it.”

“Well, you better, because I have someone interested in your room. No more late rent. You’re late, and you get a notice. End of story.”

Panic welled in my chest as I thought of my empty bank account. I had enough for one more month of rent. Just one.

“I’ll have it,” I said with a tight throat, feeling prickles in the back of my eyes. As Jane moved away with a huff, tears welled up. One overflowed and ran down my cheek, immediately leading to more. My situation was desperate. Graduating from a prestigious college was supposed to give a person a leg up, but all I got was a bunch of debt and shoved into the poor house.

I slunk back into my room with my cup of tea and drowning in tears. I set my cup down and fell into my bed. My blurry gaze drifted to the stack of bills that wouldn’t be paid this month. Then down to my pocket where that strip of newspaper with Kimberly’s writing burned against my hip.

C
hapter
2

I
can’t believe
I’m doing this.

Five days after meeting Kimberly, I stood on the sidewalk downtown, looking up at a building reaching for the sky. Wide, tinted glass doors stood in front of me, stately and foreboding. A man exited the building, dressed in a crisp business suit. His gold cufflinks caught and threw the sun.

I didn’t belong here.

I smoothed my slightly faded pinstripe skirt over my thighs. The black had turned a murky gray after too many washes. My pink blouse hung off my breasts in a shapeless avalanche. I’d changed my handbag to one of my better ones, but it definitely wasn’t designer. And here I was, interviewing to be the assistant to the CEO.

I definitely did not belong here.

Summoning my courage, I strode forward. Belonging or not, questionable job description or not, I was broke and this was my only hope. Literally. I had actually been turned down from two fast food chains. I’d been informed they weren’t hiring for managers and I was overqualified for the lower-level positions.

It was either this, or begging on the street.

This paid better.

Sucking in a deep breath, I entered the large lobby with a tight hold on my handbag. Marble and elegance stretched to either side, but I stayed focused on the man in uniform behind the large desk to the left. As I approached him, he looked up and lifted his brow. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Carlisle. I have an appointment.” I cleared my throat, hoping the action would scare away the tremor. It was a long shot, granted.

The man touched his computer monitor. After scanning the screen for a moment, he said, “Just go ahead and sign in here, if you would.”

He touched the monitor facing me at the end of the counter.

“Oh, sure.” I shook out my hands. It was also ineffective in chasing away the tremor.

The keyboard was right below the monitor, and I quickly filled in the needed information. The man consulted his own screen before hitting a few buttons and printing out a badge. He handed it over then pointed toward the back of the lobby. “Just take elevator thirteen all the way up to level fifty-three.”

I smiled and thanked him as I moved woodenly to the elevators. I exited at the appropriate floor and saw three women waiting in leather chairs. Opposite them were three more chairs, with a shiny coffee table sitting between them. To the left, an older women with half-moon reading glasses stared at a computer monitor at the side of her desk. Next to her, an identical desk stood currently bare.

I approached her slowly, fist squeezing the handle of my bag. I wanted to exude confidence, but with nervousness eating away at my insides, I was more concerned about not getting sick.

She gazed at me over the rim of her glasses.

“Hi,” I croaked. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hi. I’m here to apply? For the position?”

“Your name, please.” The woman’s expression remained bland, unperturbed by my faulty start.

“Olivia Jonston.”

She glanced at her computer, clicked the mouse a few times, and nodded. “Please have a seat until I call your name.”

I nodded and started over, knowing my face was glistening with nervous perspiration. I rounded one of the empty chairs and sat slowly, getting a good look at my competition. Then I had the urge to laugh hysterically.

The three women in front of me were drop-dead gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. Blond hair, one and all, was either done up perfectly with no flyaways, or hanging in a loose tumble over slim shoulders. Their clothes were professional and pristine, suits tailored to fit dynamite bodies. Pearls or gold necklaces adorned thin necks, and flawless makeup enhanced jaw-dropping faces.

I needed more makeup than any of these, and I was wearing the least.
Just call me Underdog.

“Ginger Stevens,” the woman behind the desk called.

Beauty number one bent to the side and picked up a designer handbag of some sort—I vaguely recognized the symbol from a red carpet picture. With the other hand, she picked up a leather folder and gracefully rose from her seat.

With horror I realized everyone had folders, leather-bound and expensive. These women were bringing portfolios rather than their meager résumés.

I glanced down at the piece of paper resting in my lap. I didn’t even have enough experience to take up two sheets, let alone fill a portfolio.

Seriously, what was I doing here?

I inched up my chin. Getting down on myself wouldn’t help. I wasn’t pretty, fine, but I had great work ethic. I also had a reputable school under my belt. And I’d done a bunch of activities in school that taught me leadership and organization and…other important things.

I rummaged around in my brain for more great qualities as the next woman was called. She elegantly brushed a loose curl over her shoulder as she rose.

My gaze slid down her shapely legs and stuck to her fabulous red heels. I noticed the same emblem on those as she had on her handbag.

So…designer, then. Her suit surely was, too. She was wearing money. It was probably stitched into her seams and stuffed in her pockets.

I shook my head a fraction and looked away at the window, calling up my selling points and things I might say. I’d been through an interview or two; I had experience with most of the questions. Not that it had helped in the past, but maybe this time would be different.

You said that last time.

I curled my fists in exasperation at myself as the next woman was called. Not able to help it, I thought about who else might be hiring. Fast food was out, but what about Starbucks? I heard they were a cool company—I could give them a try.

Was there a Target nearby?

It took me a moment to recognize my name hovering in the air.

It dawned on me that the third woman had disappeared. I’d been completely lost in my own world.

I peeked my head around the chair back. The woman at the desk was staring at me over her half-moon glasses, waiting for me to get in gear.

I popped up and straightened my clothes before grabbing my handbag. I smiled at the woman as I approached, hoping the sentiment reached my eyes.

“Go on in,” she said, not smiling back.

I passed her desk and turned toward the partially open door. Taking a deep breath, I laid my hand on the cool handle and gently pushed. The large room spread out before me. Huge windows filled the wall at the far end of the room, showing the clear blue sky beyond. A round table surrounded by four chairs crouched off to my left. A couch lay ten feet beyond that, with a coffee table in front of it, and two large chairs to the other side. And in front of me, only slightly removed to the side, was a giant desk with two chairs in front.

A man stood as I entered. My jaw went slack and my mouth fell open. Like that first plunge on a roller coaster, my stomach flipped, and then dropped with the free fall.

Kimberly had mentioned Hunter Carlisle was attractive. Incredibly gorgeous, she had said.

She had grossly understated his appearance.

He had a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and straight nose. A top-dollar tailored suit swathed the muscular vee of his torso, leading down to trim hips and solid thighs. His delicious bedroom eyes, hooded as though in the throes of ecstasy, were a deep, bottomless brown, entrancing. Confidence and charisma oozed from his powerful body, melting my bones. His masculinity did not ask me to yield, but demanded it.

On shaking legs threatening to buckle, I walked closer with a lump in my throat. I didn’t dare speak. It would only come out in a warbled mess.