Page 61 of Positively Pricked
I wasn't going to argue. Still, I felt compelled to point out the obvious. "But you don'thaveto be."
"Wrong." He glanced at the visitor's chair. "So are you staying or going?"
I gave the chair a good, long look. It was a nice one, made of rich brown leather, with armrests and everything. But sitting anywhere near Zane Bennington seemed like a very dangerous idea – and not only because he was such a jerk.
Already, something was glaringly obvious. I might've been surprised to seehim, buthewasn't surprised to seeme.
No matter how I sliced it, that couldn't be good.
I turned and looked at the door behind me. At the sight of it, my brow wrinkled in confusion. The door was shut. Funny, I didn't remember shutting it. Maybe my escort had discreetly closed it after showing me in?
Or maybe Zane had one of those super-secret buttons under his desktop.
Reluctantly, I turned back to Zane. He was wearing a suit and tie. He should've looked civilized. And yet, he didn't.
Oh sure, his suit was obviously expensive, and it fit him perfectly. His hair was unruffled, and his face was clean-shaven.
And yet, there was something in his eyes, or maybe in the set of his jaw, that told me he wasn't your average C.E.O.
But then again, I'd known that already, hadn't I?
I had no clue what was going on, but I did know that someone like Zane Bennington wouldn't be conducting interviews for a lowly kitchen job. So why was I here?
His last question hung in the air.Was I staying or going?
I still didn't have an answer. It was true that I desperately needed a job, but it wasalsotrue that I hated this guy, and not only because he was a total prick. It was because, in some weird, twisted way, he intrigued me in ways that were decidedly unnatural.
Talk about messed up.
And Istilldidn't have an answer. I tossed his own favorite phrase right back at him. "Does it matter?"
"To me?" He glanced away. "No."
At this, I felt an embarrassing surge of disappointment, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. I really did loathe him. Still, I summoned up a thin smile and said, "Good." And with that, I turned and began marching toward the door.
Behind me, he added, "But itwillmatter to you."
My steps faltered, and I turned to ask, "Why?"
"Because," he said, "I'm about to offer you a job."
