Page 340 of The Christmas Wife

I throw up my hands. "Whatdoyou care about?"

"That you do the job you're paid to do."

"Don’t you want to know why I’m looking for a job, despite my father being one of the richest in the country?"

"Nope." He makes a popping sound at the end.

"You must also be aware my only experience so far has been working in a preschool."

"Where you also helped with the admin and running the place. In the short months you were there, you not only helped hands-on with taking care of the children, but also streamlined the processes. Too bad the owner didn’t have deeper pockets. If he’d managed his cash flow wisely, the nursery would exist today."

Chills run up my arms, and I skim my suddenly sweaty palms down the fabric of my skirt. I struggled to zip it up this morning, and the jacket is a little too tight at the shoulders. That’s what happens when you shop at the second-hand outlet. I can only find my size in the plus-sized brands, which are currently out of my budget, so I knew I’d lucked out when I found a half-way decent-looking ensemble in the thrift store. Unfortunately, it's one size smaller than what I normally wear. I thought I’d looked professional when I saw my reflection in the mirror. But with his piercing gaze on me, and that inscrutable expression in his eyes, I feel like I’m back in high-school and being rebuked by the principal. Though none of them looked anywhere as delicious as the glowering man on the other side of the desk.

"You seem to know everything about me."

"I know enough." He looks me up and down. There’s a peculiar look in his eyes, which he banks again. "Only what’s needed pertaining to your job. In my position, I need to be careful who I allow in my proximity."

"You’ve only taken this job recently, I understand?"

His gaze narrows.

"I heard from our mutual friends?—"

“Friends?” he drawls in a tone which indicates he doesn’t have many of them, which, given his attitude so far, is not surprising.

"I meant, the girls who are married to your friends. And I know you’re close to the Seven?—"

"What do you know about the Seven?" There’s that hint of lazy curiosity in his voice again, one that signals he finds this entire conversation amusing.

My stomach tightens, but I force myself to relax.You do need this job. Besides, it’s only going to be for a few months.That’s as long as my family is going to let me be. And no way am I borrowing money from my friends or admitting defeat and returning home before that. This must be a test, his version of an interview. Yes, that’s all it is.

"I know the Seven co-own 7A investments. They each are on the list of multi-billionaires on the continent. I know they're rumored to have links to the Mafia, so they know about all the big deals in the country. I know that six of the seven are married, leaving only one, who is among the most eligible bachelors in the country. And that person is you."

When he doesn’t react, I’m emboldened to add, "I also know your half-brothers aren’t too thrilled that you’ll be taking over."

He seems taken aback by my knowledge.

"I do my research, too." So what if my primary source of information is The Daily Mail and Cosmopolitan? I have my ear to the ground as far as celebrity gossip is concerned, andthe Seven used to grace the tabloids, until they found their ladyloves. Except for Edward—though speculation is rife that it won’t be long before he settles down, considering his new position is that of the CEO of Davenport Industries. As for him not getting on with his half-brothers, that was a calculated guess. I may not be a cut-throat corporate shark, but even I know when an outsider is given the top position, the ones on the inside tend to be pissed off.

"Why is your surname different from the company you manage?"

"Didn’t your research reveal that?" he drawls.

Heat flushes my cheeks. "My sources aren’t as thorough as yours. All I know is your grandfather is Arthur Davenport, a business legend. I also know that, while he is estranged from your parents, he’s decided to make you the CEO of his group of companies."

He doesn’t seem surprised by the scope of my knowledge. "Did your investigation also reveal that Arthur wants me to get married?"

"He does?" I blink.

He nods. “Question is, do you have what it takes to be my wife?”

7

Edward

"You mean, do you have what it takes to be my husband, don’t you?” She huffs. “Also, if that was a marriage proposal, it sucked,”

“But you’re considering it,” I declare with satisfaction.

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