Page 80 of Quinlan

Tatum walks me a few steps forward, steeling herself at the large double dark wood doors at the end of the hall. They look bigger this close. Intimidating.

“I’d wish you good luck, but you don’t need it.” Tatum places a warm hand on my shoulder. A cordial gesture. One second, and it’s gone. “The job is yours.”

“Yes.”

Every ounce of my focus is on the door. All my energies are harnessed to transform me into the best version of myself. The woman who’s worked for years to earn this position.

I plaster a smile on my face. “It’s mine.”

“That’s the spirit,” the older woman says. I hear her heels clink as she strides off.

Um…What? She’s going?

Normally, especially in the fancier companies I’ve worked with, the secretaries show me in. A formal introduction takes place. A ritual of sorts. They bring in drinks. Refreshments.

This is a good thing.They’re not snobs. You’re going to meet some really cool people. You’ll love working for them.

I will. Of course, I will.

The notebook goes to one hand. The freed one rises, curling into a fist.

Three raps on the door.

“Come in, Ms. Palmer,” a man’s bass-like voice seeps through the heavy doors.

Big smile. Hand on the handle.

And push.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Quinlan

“Hello,” I say atfirst to the blurry faces.

I’m nervous. My whole body is wound up tight. In the state I’m in, I only see shadows where the three men sit on the other side of the oval table. I can also tell it’s made of glass.

Nothing else.

Five seconds of silence. I blink, focusing on their faces instead their silhouettes, and then—

My smile falters. My throat is clogged.

No.

Them. The three of them.

Liam. Damien. Rome.

No. No, no, no. This isn’t happening.

I’d yell at them if I could force my mouth to work. Would turn on my heels and get the hell out of here, except my feet won’t cooperate.

“Hello, darling.” Damien sits between the two of them, steepling his fingers on the top of the table.

He’s donning a charcoal gray suit. His stubble is cut close to his jaw. His hair perfectly styled, arranged sort of messily, even here. Even in the office. He’s breathtaking, and I hate him for it.

“Close the door behind you, sweetheart.” Rome’s voice startles me, and I jump, my hand flying to my chest.

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