Page 11 of Fake Dark Vows

Julia laughs again. “It isn’t about the suit, although it sounds quite eventful.”

“It isn’t?” Okay, so what else have I done to make Mr. Weiss angry with me?

“No, I have a job proposition for you.”

“A job proposition? For me?”

I realize that I’m repeating everything that she is saying, but it feels like I’ve woken up in a parallel universe where the tyrant businessman has suddenly rediscovered his heart and wants to offer me a job.

I must’ve been way drunker than I thought. I knew the tequila in the last bar was a bad idea. How many did we have? I lost count after the second one… Jeez, the remainder of the evening was a massive gray blur.

“Yes,” Julia says. “Your father mentioned that you’re currently unemployed and, well, we have a role that needs to be filled urgently.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, tears inexplicably welling in my eyes.

I’m about to turn down a job offer that would no doubt clear my debts and ease the pressure off my dad, all because I can’t imagine myself working for that man.

“But I have no experience in whatever it is you do.” I can hear the defeat in my own voice, and I hate myself for it. Way to screw up another golden opportunity, Rose.

“Oh, no,” Julia says brightly. “You wouldn’t be working here in the office, and I must inform you that the position will only be temporary.”

I clear a circle in the steamy mirror with the palm of my hand, and blink at my bedraggled reflection. I still look the same as I did yesterday morning. Okay, so maybe a bit rougher around the edges, and my eyes are bloodshot from all the liquor, but I follow Jess’s mindful advice and tell myself that this is the face of a woman to whom good things can happen.

“Where would I be working?”

“On Ruby Island,” comes the reply.

I’m underdressed. I know it the instant Julia steps out of the elevator and greets me in the lobby of Weiss Tower wearing an ice-blue pantsuit and white heels. I’m wearing the black and white polka-dot wraparound dress—my interview outfit, not that it’s brought me much luck so far—and I feel like a child dressed up in her mom’s outdated clothes.

“Rose,” she says, offering me her hand to shake formally. “I’m so glad you could make it at such short notice.”

“You’re welcome,” I say. “You have to be on standby when you’re unemployed.”

Jeez, me and my big mouth.

But Julia smiles anyway, and it feels genuine, not judgmental. She tells me a little about Ruby Weiss—her boss’s mom—on our way up to the penthouse suite, about how she might appear a little intimidating, but underneath it all, she’s a genuinely lovely person who just happens to be married to one of the country’s wealthiest men.

“Now, I feel even more underdressed,” I say.

“You’ll be fine. I promise.”

Julia ushers me out of the elevator and through her office which is bright and spacious and filled with aesthetically pleasing pot plants and artwork. There’s no sign of Mr. Weiss—bonus—and I take some deep breaths to steady my nerves. It’s only a temporary job, so why is my heart racing like my life depends upon it?

We stop outside a doorway, and Julia gives me one final encouraging smile. I like her. Maybe Mr. Weiss needs someone like Julia to keep him in check.

“Mrs. Weiss is waiting in the lounge for you,” she says, keeping her voice low.

The lounge?

I nod, take another deep breath, and open the door.

This room is larger than the entire lower level of our home. Mrs. Weiss is seated on a plush ivory couch in the center of the room, speaking into her cellphone. She raises her finger and gestures for me to wait, which I do.

It gives me a chance to take in the rest of the room before I sit down. There’s a large glass coffee table between two identical couches, with a cafetiere and two coffee cups strategically placed ready for the interview, along with a bowl of demerara sugar and a small jug of cream. A wide bureau is placed against one wall next to a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, crammed full of books.

There’s even a gleaming, baby grand piano in one corner of the room. Who has a piano in their office? Is it for show, or does Mr. Weiss knock out some tunes in his spare time between meetings?

Mrs. Weiss ends her call and beckons for me to join her on the opposite couch. “Thank you for coming, Rose. I won’t take up too much of your time.”

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