Page 14 of Love Not Qualified

My lips trembled in a smile and I opened the door with a solid grip, closing it as soon as I found myself inside the room. The first breath I took in his presence was shaky, my lungs drawing warm air inside my lungs.

Was it hot in his office or was I burning?

Mr. Graves’ office was no different than a cave, with a black floor and walls, maroon desk and chair, and a pile of files that sat next to his laptop.

“Hello,” I finally said. “I’m Haelyn Ross.” I extended my hand to him while my eyes couldn’t help but steal another glance at his face.

His green eyes remained pointed on my own as his palm brushed mine in a handshake. Mr. Graves’ grip made my hand seem the size of a child’s.

The contact didn’t last long, because he removed his touch and moved his entire attention to the papers in front of him. He pushed a button on the edge of his desk and the room darkened even more.

I threw a look over my shoulder, noticing that the glass had turned a shade of black. By my guess, you were able to see only shapes from outside.

When my gaze found its way back to Mr. Graves, he raised his brows at me and I realized it was because of the squint on my face.

A sigh escaped his mouth as he muttered, “Privacy reasons,” then he dropped his head back into the file.

Before I could stop myself, I opened my mouth. “But…no one comes here.”

His head lifted once again and this time, when his eyes met mine, there’s nothing of that welcoming gaze he had when I walked inside—even if cold—it’s just pure boredom.

My chin lowered to my chest and I was glad I didn’t have gum to move it from one part of my mouth to the other. If giving unrequired opinions didn’t annoy him, that surely would’ve.

I could see why he’s the boss. He’s straightforward, not an ounce of interest in chit-chat, and he didn’t need more than one look to make you understand who’s in charge.

The muscles under his custom-made suit stole my gaze before my eyes dropped onto the shiny, expensive watch on his wrist. He didn’t even acknowledge my staring.

Mr. Graves was as cold as a frozen lake. If you broke the ice at the top and sank, you died of hypothermia. I had a feeling it was the same case with Tristan Graves.

“You’ve been observing, I see,” he murmured, his pen sliding on the documents.

I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to make this any worse. Without me fucking it up entirely, I still had a solid chance to get whatever job they were offering.

Mr. Graves relaxed in his seat, pushing his chair back. “Previous jobs?”

This man had the looks, but he wasn’t the type to waste time with a proper sentence. Again, I kept that thought to myself.

“Coffee and flower shops, libraries, babysitter, fast food, restaurants, mechanic, everything you could ever think of.” My hands intertwined under his desk, hidden from his view.

No muscle on his face twitched when he heard I had worked as a mechanic, not even a small reaction. I waited for him to question me about the cars like most men I met have done.

Five seconds passed and nothing came in.

He doesn’t give a flying fuck, does he?

“What would you say is your best leverage when it comes to working?”

Leverage. That’s a new word. It seemed like his vocabulary wasn’t that limited after all. I took a second to think about it, picturing a day working at the sportswear shop.

“That would have to be my ability to persuade a person. I’m really good when it comes to people,” I told him, pushing my chest out.

His eyes scanned my face for a mere moment, the smallest flicker of curiosity flashing over his features–his round lips pursed, and his perfectly sculpted nose twitched.

You knew what they said about noses, right? The bigger the nose, the bigger the?—

Stop.

This is wrong.

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