Page 14 of The Boss and the Adoption Mess
In front of the building, I admire the sleek lettering above the entrance:Epicurean Delights London.My whole body buzzes with excitement. I can’t help but grin, though I try to keep it in check. Head high, I stride to the glass doors. They open automatically, and two receptionists glance up at me. Both look laid-back and friendly. After a short intro, one of them escorts me to the third floor and invites me to sit in the waiting area.
A few minutes later, what I assume is Mr. Bones’s secretary comes out from behind her desk and walks over.
“Miss Prescott?” she asks, smiling nervously, looking on edge. I pop up right away and offer my hand.
“Lovely to meet you. Unfortunately, Mr. Bones is unavailable…”
Has anything good ever happened on a Monday?
I have to fight to keep my cool. If she only knew what it took to get here on time—unshowered, and starving!
“Oh…” I’m about to snap that they could’ve at least called, when she keeps going. Lucky me.
“Mr. Kensington himself will conduct the interview. Please don’t worry. He usually only steps in after Mr. Bones screens candidates. This is actually a good thing,” she assures me.
“The boss himself?” Now I’m nervous. Nobody really knows anything about him. No photos, no articles, nothing. He keeps his life locked down tighter than Fort Knox.
“That’s right. Gregory Kensington.” Actually, it’s Gregory G. Kensington, but I don’t want to correct her. “Mr. Kensington’s still on an important call. As soon as he’s ready, I’ll take you in. Would you like tea, coffee, juice? Sparkling water?”
“I’d love some juice. Orange or apple if you have it.”
“We’ve got both. Please, have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
I sit again, crossing my legs as she hurries off on her heels.
Why’s she so jumpy?
Me: You’re not gonna believe this. Sitting here and the secretary tells me the guy I was supposed to meet isn’t here. I’m meeting the boss directly. And she’s super nervous. That’s a bad sign, right?
Chloe: Uh… nervous assistants usually mean a boss who keeps them on edge…
Me: Exactly what I thought. What do I do?
Chloe: Stay calm? Seriously. Bosses like that love people who keep it together. They just wantthe business to run smoothly.
Me: True. Okay. Deep breath, happy thoughts, everything will work out… right?
She likes my last message while I’m totally freaking out. I chew my lower lip, listening to sounds from the little kitchen where she disappeared. A minute later, she’s back with a tall glass of orange juice, there are even ice cubes floating at the top.
“Thank you so much,” I say, taking a big sip. Okay—wow. This juice is amazing. Really good. I sneak a quick glance at my meter—this much sugar will send my blood sugar spiking. But sometimes I crave sweet stuff when I’m this nervous.
The secretary sits about fifty feet away at her desk, picks up a call. I can’t make out much. The place is huge, the reception area open, and her desk sits right in front of two doors. At least I’ve got a killer view of London’s business district. My reflection in the glass reminds me, I’ll make a good first impression. Outfit on point, hair perfect. Makeup too—still holding strong.
“Are you sure?" I almost miss hearing her ask. She says that a little louder into the phone. That I can hear. Then she hangs up.
A second later, the door opens. That’s gotta be him. I look up, heart pounding, at the man in the sharp suit and—
Oh, damn. What the hell is he doing here? Startled, I jump up and glare at Gabriel. Him, of all people? The guy who wouldn’t even let me shower?
Gabriel looks surprised, then walks toward me.
“Please don’t tell me we both applied for this job?” he asks with a frown.
“Are you serious?” I hiss, my nerves spiking. He applied too? Him of all people? “I thought you were loaded—the watch, the limo, the apartment...” I stammer, flustered.
“A family heirloom.” He points to his watch. “The driver’s a buddy of mine. Helps when I’m picking up girls.” What the hell? With a cocky grin, he adds, “The apartment belongs to my sister. And by the way, that was her kid this morning, not mine.”
I stand there, mouth open. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
