Page 90 of Royally Tempted

“Well,” Sasha sighed. “Guess you’ll find out tomorrow at the interview, dummy.”

She was right. For all my bitching, Ihadlanded a callback for an interview.

“I’m still grossed out by the headshot, you know.”

She smirked.

“How is that even legal?”

“Eh, there are loopholes. And hey, you’re cute.”

“I’m not a model or anything, though.”

She groaned. “Girl, yougotthe interview, didn’t you?”

I frowned and she laughed and poured me some more wine.

“Vicarious drinking,” she said with a wink as she pushed the glass towards me. “You want me to send a personal recommendation on Stone & Steel letterhead?”

I frowned and shook my head.

She sighed. “Didn’t think so. You areonestubborn girl, you know that?”

I grinned at her. “Yup. It’s why you love me though.”

“Luckily,” she snorted.

I turned back to the laptop. “The guy I’m reporting to is probably an old rich asshole.”

“Yeah, heprobablyis, Ari, but that rich asshole is going to pay you like you’re a Wall Street trader.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, taking a sip from my glass.

“It’s gong to befine.”

“I guess.”

I tried to take her words to heart, but I still slept fitfully that night. I tossed and turned half the night, wondering about my interview with the rich old asshole who’d hold my future in his hands.

Chapter 3

Holy shit.

The foyer of Camelot Holdings was all steel and silver trim with rich, marbled mahogany wood finishes. I took a seat in the modern, yet deeply rich lobby with four other women, all quite pretty and dressed identically to me in shades of gray and black skirt suits and formal blouses.

I swallowed, feeling my pulse race. Why was I so nervous? Okay, it was a job interview — a job interview I needed pretty desperately. Yes, Sasha had made it quite clear that she had more than enough space, not to mention finances to basically have me stay with her, Luke, and Jordan indefinitely, but I knew I’d go nuts if I didn’t at leasttryto do something job-wise.

But I shouldn’t have been so nervous.

I glanced up at the silver-inlay lettering above the receptionist’s desk.

Camelot Holdings.

I rolled my eyes, imagining the old dork who thought that up.

A soft metallic clunk of a door made me glance back to the boss’s office besides the receptionist’s desk. A pretty, young woman about my age left the office looking flustered, breathless, and pink in the face.

She lookedscared.

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