Page 5 of Mr Monday
Then my blindfold was gone.
He stepped out of the helicopter and offered me his hand. I took it, but hesitated, hoping we weren’t on a sky-high helipad again. Damn my fear. After marshalling my courage, I exited the helicopter. I gasped at what I saw. We’d landed at ground level but a magnificent house sprawled beyond the helipad, perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean. I felt a jolt of vertigo, just seeing how the house stood right on the edge. This interview was getting stranger with every passing minute.
‘Where are we?’ I asked, looking down at him. ‘This is incredible.’
‘Come.’
He dropped my hand to take hold of my waist. He lifted. I steadied myself by gripping his shoulders. He lowered me slowly. I held my breath and our gazes locked. Time stood still until my feet touched the ground, and I tipped my head back so as not to break eye contact. Only then did I realize that I’d slipped down his body, intimately, and we didn’t part, lingering flush to each other with his hands at my waist and mine on his shoulders. I swallowed and stepped back. This was all wrong. I needed to get a grip and stop obsessing about him, especially as it was a job interview.
My legs were a little wobbly and I stumbled along the flagstone pathway to the house. He took my elbow and I glanced up at him. He was watching me with an unreadable expression. It didn’t unnerve me, but it did make me wonder what he was thinking. I was curious about this man, whom I’d met such a short while ago. I liked his touch; it had an element of possession which was rather exciting. It was as if we were both magnetized, being drawn one to the other, and it took everything I had to resist the pull. Yes, I acknowledged to myself, he made me feel like a woman. No man had ever taken the time to do that before, because I tended to go for the one-and-done guys. It was less time-consuming – and less emotionally demanding – that way. This feeling was new, but I was enjoying it.
Once inside the house, I was led to a study. All the drapes were drawn. The furniture was old, heavy and very masculine. I knew my antiques and was stunned by some of the pieces in the room. There was no one there but us. He touched the back of the chair by the desk, but I stopped in front of a tall, multi-paned window, one of many that lined one wall of the study. Very old but elegant drapes hung behind the ornately carved window valance. The ceiling took my breath away, it was so high, like in a cathedral. It seemed that everything was making me breathless tonight.
‘Please sit.’
Especially him.
I did as he asked and watched him walk to the sideboard and pour golden liquid into a beautifully cut crystal tumbler.
He glanced at me. ‘Ice?’
I shook my head. ‘No, neat.’
I could barely contain myself. It was hard to stop myself bursting out with a million questions. I was frazzled, aroused, confused, and I needed that drink something fierce. But having a drink at an interview was oh so wrong. I took the glass from him in any case, our fingers touching. I gasped and gulped a mouthful, welcoming the burn as it slipped down my throat.
‘It was a pleasure.’ He bowed his head and, before I could comment, he left.
Disappointment filled me and I stood up.
‘What the hell?’ I looked around and froze when a voice filled the room.
‘Ms Canyon. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.’
The speaker’s voice sounded odd – being piped into the room, like that of a visitor from the Great Beyond.
Tentatively, I replied, ‘I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage, Mr—’
There was a sly amusement in his tone when he said, ‘You may call me Mr King. Welcome to my kingdom.’
I remained silent. One thing I’d learned from my father was to let the other person do the talking. Let them expose themselves or give away their intentions. So I sat quietly, trying not to explode with impatience.
The voice filled the room, and it rather unnerved me. How do you have a conversation with a disembodied voice? I listened, focusing on the words, while keeping the expression on my face blank. If the voice was coming via speakers from another location, I had every expectation that there would also be a camera watching me. I let my need for revenge fuel my patience. I’d come too far to screw it up now.
‘Your résumé is impressive. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be sitting in my study. Your degree and the years you spent as a corporate librarian are good background for what I am looking for. Your discovery of the antiquated geological survey that allowed your former employers to snatch up untapped ore veins on the cheap was quite impressive. I also enjoyed the digital gallery you created of the fossils discovered in the Montana quarry.’ He paused, and I wondered if he was trying to bait me. I wouldn’t let him. ‘However, this interview process is not going to be what you would normally expect.’
I couldn’t sit quietly any longer. ‘What exactly do you mean?’
A deep chuckle echoed in the room. ‘You are inquisitive. I like that. In order for you to be considered further for this position, you need to agree to complete the tests that will be assigned to you.’
‘How can I agree when I have no idea what the tests are?’ I was beginning to feel frustrated by all these games.
‘It comes down to trust and to how badly you want the job. Enough to take a risk?’
‘I don’t even know you.’ I wasn’t about to reveal how much I didn’t know about the company. And what I did know screamed at me that trust was something they didn’t deserve. Especially after what they did to my father.
The room seemed to close in around me as the heaviness of what he was asking me to do pressed down on me. I realized I had to take a leap into the unknown if I wanted to continue with the job interview. I had to take the risk. It was hard going along like this, blindly, without being given any explanation. It scared me, just like letting Mr Gorgeous put the blindfold on me and getting into the helicopter, so desperate not to show my fear and doing it anyway. It was why I was here now, with another decision to make that would either take me closer to my goal or ruin everything.
I sat back in the chair, processing this information.
