Chapter Five

Zoe

He was a bastard in the last interview. How would pre-Kobe Zoe handle it? She'd give the best damn interview of his life and then tell him to stick his job up his asshole.

The latter part doesn't work for present-day Zoe. Present day Zoe has three kids to feed and clothe, a Jag to pay for, a smashed up car to tow and a new car to buy. I could manage the first part though. I would manage the first part.

I took a deep breath, force my chin up and rolled my shoulders back before storming through the sliding glass doors and stomping past the receptionist without making eye contact all while praying security didn't grab me and escort me kicking and screaming from the building. I'd faced more than enough humiliation with the last 24 hours to last me a life time.

I made to the elevator just as the mirrored slid open. The same bellboy from this morning greeted me with a smile.

"Mabel said to expect you," he said, ushering me inside. "Here, take a seat," he guided me to a small, round stool with a red velvet padded cushion rested on it, in the corner of the spacious elevator. 

"Thank you," I said, perching myself on the edge of the stool. I studiously ignored my reflection, keeping my eyes on the ground as the elevator took the smooth ride up. The bellboy chatted away. He'd fought with his boyfriend that morning. If he was trying to distract me from the stomach churning anxiety swamping me it wasn't working.

The doors slid open to the pristine, ice white reception of Greyson's palatial penthouse office. 

"He's running late, sweetheart," Mabel told me as I stepped into the waiting area. I nodded.

Before I could make it to the white leather sofa to wait, an Amazonian blonde sashayed out of the Greyson's office, grinning like she'd just had the best sex of her life. She paused as she past me, casting her gaze down my podgy body. Her freckled nose curled in disgust.

"Send Miss Smithson in." Greyson barked through the intercom. I turned to Mabel, raising my eyebrows with a slight smile. Butterflies swarmed in my stomach.

"Zoe, may I give you some advice?"

"Yes, please," I squeaked, running my sweating palms down my thighs.

"Stand up to him. He has a thing for strong women. Don't let him put him you down and don't be afraid to tell him if you think he’s out of line."

"Thank you."

I tilted my chin up, puffed out my chest and flung open the double doors to his office, my eyes met his gaze with a faux confidence.

Were his eyes always so blue? 

An unwelcome heat grew between my legs.

"Take a seat, Miss Smithson."

"Thank you," I said firmly, stepping deliberately over the turkish rug which covered most of the glossy white tiled floor.

"I have to say, I'm disappointed. When I sent you away to change into something more appropriate for the role, I wasn't expecting you turn up in your boyfriend's shirt."

Tears stung my eyes. I swallowed hard, refusing to break eyecontact.

"With respect, Mr Elliot,"I said as I seated myself opposite him. "I applied for the role two hours before my first interview and I've just received a five-thousand-dollar repair bill we both know I can't pay. This is all I have. Clearly, if I get the role, I will invest in office wear but I am not in the position to buy new clothes at the moment and my attire does not impact my ability to fulfill the role.."

A slight smile crossed Greyson's lush lips.

"Actually, your attire does impact your ability to fulfil the role. As my PA, you are the first person my clients will meet."

"Noted," I said through gritted teeth as I slipped Harry's notepad out of my bag. I tilted it purposefully allowing him to watch as I scrawled 'buy tiny office dresses to impress asshole new employer.' across the page.

Greyson raised his eyebrows and began firing question after question at me. I jotted down anything I felt was important as he spoke and took care to pull on my earlier research as I answered all his questions in as much detail as I could manage.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask?" He said after anm hour of relentless questions.

"What are prospects for growth and advancement within the company?"

He leaned back in his chair, stroking his hand over his stubbled chin, grinning.

Condescending prick.

"Well, we're a software development company. I'm always looking for new project managers, do you know anything about coding?"

I vehemently wished I did so I could say something smart and wipe that smug grin right off his perfect face.

"I can learn," I said in a tone more snappy than I intended, "so, if I want to progress your advice is to study coding?"

"Yeah, and the rest of it," he snorted.

"Thank you, I'll speak to a career's adviser. I'm sure they'll be helpful."

"Any more questions?"

"Do you have any reservations about my qualifications or experience?"

"Yes, you have none. Of either."

I was kinda glad he was being an asshole. It made getting angry much esasier than running out with my tail between my legs.

"If you'd read my resume, you'd know I have a High School Diploma. I finished in the top 5% of my year despite switching schools six months before my exams to care for my grand father after his stroke. I am smart, capable and willing to learn. If there are any courses you'd like me to attend, I'd be happy to fit them on my own time."

"Well, your main duty will be answering and making phone calls. I'm not sure they do training courses in telephone etiquette. I'll be happy to fund one for you, if they do."

If I punched him in the face, would he still give me the job? Pre-Kobe Zoe would've socked him one ages ago. He did ask me to find the old Zoe.

"I'm certain I can manage," I seethed, "with the exception of yourself, what is the biggest challenge of the job?"

Greyson let out a small chuckle and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk between us.

"With the exception of myself, it's a fairly straightforward role. You organise my calendar, schedule my meetings, take notes, meet and greet clients and field phone calls."

"And when I can except to hear from you regarding my sucess or otherwise in gaining the role?"

I slumped in my seat and waited for him to start laughing.

"You start tomorrow. Nine am. Do not be late. Mabel will take you shopping and sort your image out."

"I can't..." I started to protest with tears swimming in my eyes.

"It will be taken from your annual clothing allowance."

"Thank you," I mumbled trying to make sense of what was happening. "I will look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"Zoe?"

"Yes?"

"I'm taking a chance on you, a chance no sane man would risk. Do not let me down."

"Yes, Sir."

I skipped from his office like I was bouncing through a field of soft, fluffy clouds. I couldn't wait to tell the kids. Isaac would be made up.