Page 91 of Royally Tempted

I swallowed.

“Ms. Holloway?”

I stared, blinking at the scared girl as she got into the elevator.

“Ms. Holloway?”

I blinked again and turned back.

“Yes?”

The older receptionist glared at me from her desk.

“They’ll see you now.”

A shiver ran up my back.

“They?”

She gave me an exasperated look.

“The bosses.”

I frowned.

Bosses? As in plural?

“Bosses?”

She all but rolled her eyes at me.

“Yes, dear. Mr. Black, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Harlow.” She frowned at me. “The men you’re interviewing with in order to personally assist, Ms. Holloway.”

I felt that shivering chill creep down my back again.

Jesus there werethreeof them?Threeold assholes I was going to have to report to? God, nowonderthe position paid so well!

“Can’t keep them waiting, dear,” she said thinly, gesturing at the door.

“Through there.”

I swallowed heavily as I rose and smoothed down my skirt and blouse before slowly stepping to the thick wooden door.

The long hallway past the door from the reception area was lowly lit and endless. My heels clicked loudly on the marble floor as I slowly made my way closer and closer to the office.

Theiroffice — the office of Mr. Black, Mr. Caldwell, and Mr. Harlow, apparently.

I suddenly wished I’d done my homework a little better before coming to the interview.

“Enter.”

The deep voice resonated through the door as I knocked. I took one final breath before I placed my hand on the silvered knob, turned it, stepped into the room…

…And promptly almost tripped over my jaw.

I’d been picturing three stuffy, crotchety old men — three bent-over, grey-haired senior citizens with bifocals and walking canes.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

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