Page 3 of Seduced By Contract

I can't afford to falter.

I will succeed.

Madison

CHAPTER TWO

"Madison Foster?"the secretary with a stern expression calls out, and I feel my stomach clench. "Mr. Ares Kostanidis is waiting for you."

Ares Kostanidis?

This can't be happening.

My interviewer is the big boss? What kind of joke is this? Since when does a billionaire personally interview a candidate for a job?

God, I really want to leave.

Don’t they have a position for serving coffee? Maybe at a nightclub, because I need those tips badly.

I should've aimed for something simpler. There's no way a man like him will buy my bluff about being bilingual. What if he asks me something in Spanish? I barely know anything beyondgracias, tacos, and fajitas.

And why on earth does he have to be the one hiring a dancer? Doesn't he have anything better to do with his life? Like flying in a private jet, going to some tropical paradise with a famousmodel, watching the northern lights—basically anything that his millions of dollars in the bank would allow him to enjoy.

I try to remember what I know about this particular member of the Kostanidis family, but my head is all mixed up because I'm too anxious.

I mean, I did some internet research about my potential new employer because the surname Kostanidis is well-known in the United States. I found out he has three brothers and he's the second oldest.

I thought I'd be interviewed by the club manager or something. I never imagined I'd have to deal with someone this important.

How am I going to carry on with my lie? Jesus, I'm so tempted to run away.

You made it this far. Who knows? Maybe it'll work out,says the devilish voice.

Brooklyn and I were raised by a liar, and I know it's not that difficult to maintain a lie. You just have to tell people what they want to hear.

Despite that, I'm not comfortable with deceiving. Unlike my father, I'm only doing this because I have no other choice.

"Miss? Are you going in, or should I call the next candidate?"

"N . . . no. I'm going. I'm sorry."

I'm not insecure, but I'm trembling from head to toe.

I felt fresh and clean when I entered the building today, but now a layer of cold sweat has formed all the way down to my butt.

I walk slowly, being careful not to trip, but when I pass by the secretary holding the door open, I feel like telling her I've changed my mind and I'm leaving.

Before I can escape, however, the woman closes the door behind me.

I turn to face the inevitable: being alone in a room with a billionaire who, unknowingly, holds my only chance of not drowning in a sea of bills.

When I look forward again, a gorgeous giant who can't be past his early thirties stares at me.

"Who the hell are you? I'm going to kill the idiot who thought it'd be funny to mess with me like this."

My stomach churns, even though I have no idea what he's talking about.

You know what's wrong with lying? Guilt shows on your face, and I think that's what he sees in me right now. And he hasn't even asked me anything in Spanish yet.

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