Page 50 of Bitten By Desire
He just stared at me as I booted up my computer.
“How long have you been seeing Bennett?” he asked.
What was his deal? “It’s none of your business.”
“If you’re hoping to be part of my business, everything you do is my business.”
“So you tell your employees who they can and can’t date?”
“If I deem it necessary.”
I slammed my laptop shut. “Well I’m not interested in being told what to do in my personal life. And if you aren’t going to ask me appropriate questions for an interview…I’m leaving.”
Before I could stand, he opened his desk drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper.
“Very well,” he said. “Have you ever worked in real estate before?”
“No.” Shit, I didn’t think that was a requirement.
“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”
“Taking pictures. Making a better living than I am now.”
“What about on a personal level?” His eyes lifted from the page.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Living in a house with a white picket fence with 2.5 kids?”
This honestly didn’t seem like an appropriate question either. But at least he wasn’t insulting Bennett. “I’m not really a white picket fence kind of person.”
“And what kind of person are you?”
“Less structured than that.” I stared at the sharp edges of his glass table.Less structured than you.
“So you don’t mind getting dirty?” he asked, his voice growing even deeper.
“Excuse me?” I pressed my thighs together. Why was my body betraying me?
He smiled at my reaction. “Getting your hands dirty on the job. Moving things around for better angles. That kind of thing.”
“Oh.” I laughed. “Right.” I’d spent so much time fretting over tonight, I hadn’t really prepared for what kind of questions he might ask me. “No, I don’t mind at all.”
“Splendid. Do you prefer taking pictures of still objects or living things?”
“Honestly, usually living things.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how likely are you to pursue relationships with co-workers?”
My eyes grew round.
“No response,” he said. “Interesting. You said you had samples?” He stood up and walked over to my side of the desk.
I turned my computer back on, trying to ignore the way my heart started racing from his relationship question. “Yes of course.” I pulled up some of the still pictures I’d taken recently for my job back home.
“No,” he said. “I want to see the ones you prefer. Living things.”
I pulled up another folder. I’d edited some photos I’d taken from the Fall Festival earlier today. To show that I could capture the vibe of the town.
