Page 15 of Hold On Me

He leans back in his chair smugly and waits for my response. The smile I found endearing before is long gone and now one side of his mouth twists up as his eyes zero in on mine, waiting to watch me squirm, baited and hooked for him. Well this worm ain’t squirmin’, no matter how much he wants me to. No amount of money is going to make this worthwhile.

“You know what, Ben? I’m not sorry. You are arrogant and egotistical. You do only care about yourself, and the only thing I’m sorry about is wasting my own time by allowing Jenson and my dad to guilt me into being here.” I stand up quickly but confidently this time and turn on my heels.

Just before I get to the door, his voice stops me in my tracks. “Penelope. Wait!”

My hand freezes in mid air, fingers hovering over the handle. I should just stomp out of here but I’m curious about what he’s going to say next.

“That’s the first time you’ve called me Ben.”

“So?” I question back without looking at him, knowing if I do his charming smile will break my anger down.

His voice is softer again. Remorse evident in every syllable. “I shouldn’t have goaded you when you were apologising. Please, let’s continue the interview.”

Inhaling deeply, I let my hand drop away from the handle. What is happening here? If I’d known using his first name would’ve made him more human, I would’ve done it a long time ago. Actually, I wouldn’t have. I prefer Mr. Thinks-He’s-So-Important—it suits his over inflated ego better.

“When your dad told me about his idea of us working together, I was a little unsure. I went along with it because I was curious. Why would the great and powerful Penelope Richards want to work for someone she despises? I didn’t expect a genuine apology. But if you’re actually here because you’re interested in the role, then I would be very happy to conduct a proper interview with you.”

Holy shit. Did that just actually happen? After years of him ignoring me, goading me and more recently flirting with me, he’s being nice and dropping his guard with me. Hell must’ve frozen over. Now the question I have to ask myself, and quickly, is do Iwant this job? I mean, I definitely want the right to refuse it if I want to, which means I have to interview for it first, right?

Mind made up, I decide to pull my big girl panties up and turn to face him, not expecting the frown marring his face. He usually frowns all the time, how he doesn’t have a face like a shar pei is beyond me, but this one’s different. It isn’t his usual one borne out of arrogance. This one’s a nervous one. And I must say, I quite like this look on him.

“Thank you for the apology. Shall we start over?”

He replies by inclining his head and I take my seat again. “I prepared a resumé for you. I’m pretty sure the one Jenson provided included things like ‘professional belcher.’” The corner of his lips twitch and I roll my eyes again.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the Brady-fied one with you, but I will say I didn’t know you had so many hobbies. Or that being a toe model on a popular foot fetish site wouldn’t keep you busier and rolling in more cash than you are.”

My eye twitches, my jaw drops open, and I know I’m blushing from head to toe right now. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“Ah, that’s one,” he replies and makes a note on a pad in front of him.

“What are you doing?”

“Erm, Jenson asked me to mark down every time you swore.” He looks a little uncomfortable, probably because I’m grinding my teeth together so loudly he can hear them.

“How badly do you need your star quarterback? And if I get this job, what are the alibi benefits offered?” My voice is saccharine sweet and my smile just a touch maniacal.

A small chuckle escapes his lips and I hold in a breath at how beautiful it sounds. I'm a confused mess of horniness and rage, and I don’t like it one bit.

“Unfortunately he’s quite essential. We already went half a season without him and I don’t want to repeat that. Especially with the playoffs round the corner. But if you can get me a replacement who’s beloved by the fans and as good as him on the field, I’d be willing to discuss alibi benefits with you.Ifyou qualify for the job, that is.” He leans back again, twiddling a pen in his long fingers, and I force my gaze away before I start picturing those fingers in other places.

“I’m sure I’m more than qualified to do this job. It’s not exactly rocket science is it?” I cross my leg over the other and note the way his eyes linger on my exposed thigh. His already dark eyes darken further and a slight fumble with the pen makes me smirk.

“Now, now, Miss Richards. You don’t want to come across as arrogant, do you?” A grin toys with his lips, and instead of replying, I lean over his desk, knowing full well the shirt I’m wearing will gape slightly and expose a little cleavage, and hand him my actual resumé.

The grin falls from his lips and he averts his eyes quickly as I sit back in my chair, recross my legs, and sigh contentedly. It’s a powerful feeling, knowing I can affect him, especially knowing nothing will ever happen between us. Ever.

Because that's my story, and I’m sticking with it.

10

BEN

Quickly reaching under my desk, I press a button to switch the A/C up. She already knows she’s got me spinning a little with that blatant leg cross to show off her toned thigh. And I really don’t want to explain that seeing her leant over my desk, exposing her lace clad breasts to me, has me breaking out in a sweat. Normally I’m the one in control in any situation, but with her, I find myself lacking the control I need. But if she thinks I’ll just gift her the upper hand, she’s got another think coming.

I drag my eyes away from hers and scan over the paper she handed me, keeping my features schooled. Her qualifications are impressive. She’s worked nearly her whole life. Summer jobs when she was younger, a lot of tutoring. She’s obviously been teaching for most of her life. She must enjoy it, so why leave it all behind now? Something doesn’t add up. Instead of letting her see my admiration for her work ethic, or the curiosity over why she left her teaching role, I set my mouth in a straight line and keep my eyes blank. I’m not laying all my cards on the table. Mean? Maybe. Necessary in regaining the upper hand? Abso-fucking-lutely.

I place the paper down without a flicker of my thoughts on my face and pick the Brady-fied one up. “I prefer this one.”

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