Chapter 3 Ugly Coincidence {Rosie}

I needed a shovel to dig my grave.

Kieran Ferrara, CEO of Helios Dynamics is the same man I had my first and amazing mind blowing sex with two weeks ago and he was staring back at me with sexy ass glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Am I forgetting that this man might just be the leader of my Zanna Rosta??

Something was wrong with me. My chest heaved and fell, I think I was having a heart attack. Every cell in my brain was panicking, throwing a major fit. Screaming mayday, mayday. “Do something dammit!” I screamed internally and only then did the voices in my head quiet down.

My eyes opened. When did I close them?

God. Am I destined to die a gruesome death?

I blinked twice, breathed in and out a couple of times, completely forgetting this was an interview and the cause of my heart attack was still very much in the office and probably wondered what clown waltzed into his office.

When my breathing steadied, I forced a smile at him. He definitely could not identify me with my disguise but I won’t stretch my luck by getting closer.

He wasn’t even looking at me anymore. He busied himself with the papers on his desk, writing who knows what with his sleek pen. The way his long thick fingers held the pen made me gulp.

Rosie!

I cleared my throat and that got his attention. His passive gaze made my body freeze from the inside. Those forest green eyes were ready to set me on fire. Let me save him the trouble.

“I apologize for wasting your time, sir,” my voice was barely audible, I didn’t want him to recognize it. “Erm, I don’t think I’m right for this job after all,” I covered up my voice with a nervous laugh but it died when his icy glare cut through me like a blade.

Oh God.

His pen stilled and he carefully took off his glasses. Good. I hope his eyesight is bad enough not to recognize a thing.

“Not qualified?” The deep timbre of his voice vibrated low within me. “Miss Grant, you’re already here. Sit.”

He wasn’t asking, he commanded.

I froze. He blew off my excuse like a candlelight.

Stiffly, I walked towards him. The confidence in my stride earlier was gone but I still could not look away from him. I met his glare head on even though I was having a nervous breakdown inside.

He didn’t just watch me, his eyes dissected me like I was an odd species. I lowered myself into the chair opposite his desk. My nails digging into my cheap leather bag as I clutched onto it for dear life.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze swept me from head to toe in one clinical pass. His golden blonde hair was not a neat slick back, not the messy curls I almost ripped out that night. Snap out of it!

“Tell me, how do you intend to keep up with me if you already plan to quit before the interview starts?” When he talked, my eyes zoned in on the permanent faint scar that ran across the side of the mouth.

My throat dried up. I still could not form the right words to say. Knowing he could not recognize me made me calmer. Elizabeth Grant must really be different from Rosie.

He pushed out from his seat suddenly and grabbed what I guessed was my file. He flipped through the first page and paused. I don’t know what he saw on the second page that made him pause like that.

He gave me a quick look before resuming. “Interesting,” he murmured. My eyebrows shot to the roof. What was interesting?

“Waitress, self taught digital marketer…” he listed on, clearly amused. The shame I didn’t fill when writing my resume now covered me wholly. He hummed. “For skills we have, Negotiation, people skills, social media management, Multilingual.” He nodded slowly then dropped the file.

When he looked back at me, my breath seized again.

“I can tell why you panicked.”

Oh. Disappointment and relief ran through me at the same time. I can always find another job.

“Being my personal assistant doesn’t really require much, Miss Grant." His green eyes sharpened. “The work is quite hectic, I am a demanding man but it says here you work great under pressure. I hope for your sake, it’s true.”

“Yes,” my voice came out raspy. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yes.”

“Good.” He said, “what’s your experience in handling high pressure schedules?”

“Oh, I haven’t worked for any corporate company or managed the calendar of a billionaire CEO before. But if I can handle juggling three waitressing shifts back to back, smile at rude customers and still remember who wanted their steak medium rare with no onions without killing anyone, I can handle your schedules.” I said in one breath. God. Did he hear any of that?

He gave a warning look.“Speak slowly,”

I nodded.

"Use your words Miss Grant."

Wow. He really is demanding. Well, if he’s going to be like that.

I lifted my chin, my posture was perfect, my mother made sure of that but I made my back straighter than a ruler. “Yes, Mr. Ferrara.” If he thought his deadly gaze would make me fold, he had another thing coming.

A glint of amusement flickered in his eyes but it didn’t linger. “How do you ensure confidentiality when working with sensitive information?”

“I’ve learned the hard way that the fewer people know your secrets, the longer you stay alive. If I work for you, your business stays with me even if at gunpoint.”

He subtly raised an eyebrow as if impressed or calling off my bluff. I could not tell which.

“If you knew something illegal about me, would you keep quiet?” His eyes narrowed, carefully assessing me. His voice dropped, low and dangerous as though he was testing me or warning me.

That took a sharp turn. I could not act surprised. Oh, I know you’re in the mafia. And as much as I didn't want to be involved in the criminal life anymore, I needed this money and I was getting tired of these questions.

I closed my eyes briefly before meeting his gaze again. “Respectfully sir, I really don’t care. I need this job so I don’t find myself on the streets. As long as I won’t be doing anything outside the job description that would potentially lead me in prison, I don’t mind.”

I’m here to do my job and get paid. All I need is six months, with the pay, I can change location and re-strategize.

I already messed up this interview from the beginning. If he found fault in my admission, I won’t blame him.

In one move, he pulled out his phone and busied himself with it. His face gave nothing as his thumb moved across the screen. What? He probably contacted the security to have me thrown out.

The door opened seconds later. The receptionist from earlier walked in but stopped a few steps behind me.

My pulse spiked. I frowned and looked back at Mr. Ferrara.

He had his hand out. A sleek, black Amex card gleamed between his long fingers.

My eyes darted between him and the card.

“Take it.” He demanded.

My hand moved on instinct. The card was cool against my palm. Too familiar. I used to have one of these.

He withdrew his hand and returned to what he was writing.

“Congratulations, Miss Grant. You got the job.” His deep voice was cold and detached. Not at all like the way he talked to me that night.

Wait. I got the job?

My brain was yet to pick up on the turn of events. I blankly stared at the card.

“Now, Mrs Grant….” he didn’t even look at me as he continued scrolling on his phone.  “I am traditional when it comes to how my staff dress. The same way I expect my male employees to look like they own a piece of this company is the same way I want my female employees to walk like they own the room.” His tone was clipped, final. “Lydia will take you shopping and you will dress in outfits that showcase your gorgeous figure and confidence starting today.”

My head swam. What the hell just happened?