Chapter 4: THE BET.

Brandon spluttered with indignation. Ethan had forgotten about him? But before he could say anything, the dickhead continued.

“Considering your condition, you really needed this job. Sabotaging the only shot you had at getting it and antagonizing a major company is beyond stupid. I’m surprised by your lack of foresight.”

Brandon’s chest tightened. He had known that instigating the protest was a little risky if he wanted to secure this job. But he never knew that the jerk he had been raw to was in charge of giving him that opportunity, or even an opportunity at all. He just messed it up.

“Or was it supposed to be your strategy for getting my attention?” Ethan said, his voice dry and sarcastic. “Then I’ll have to say that you did a terrible job. I won't have street and untrained employees.”

Brandon raged. He had prepared so hard in hopes of getting the job. Now that this douchebag was stating it clearly, Brandon realized the number of things the mouthwatering salary could have done for him and his sister. First, he had her college bill, the house bill, his mother's loan, and upkeep. Where was he going to get the money from? Giving himself the encouragement and assurance of getting this job, he had quit the smaller company he was working for as a chef. He wanted to go big and, for once, have fewer responsibilities on his shoulder.

Fuck this! Brandon was going to get this job, no matter what it took, just to prove to this asshole that not everyone who didn't go to Harvard or have a fancy upbringing was irresponsible and dumb. He was going to work here, not for the money or incentives, but just to prove a point to Ethan. He burned to prove him wrong. At this moment, looking at Ethan’s condescending expression, he didn’t give a damn about anything besides proving him wrong and then rubbing it in his arrogant face. The asshole thought his company was too good for Brandon?

“You know what?” he said, lifting his chin. “Let’s make it a job application. This hooligan can function well in the administrative and management department better than the incompetents who work here," Brandon let out.

Ethan laughed. Somehow, even his laugh was dismissive and condescending. Brandon balled his hands into fists.

 “Something funny?” Brandon angrily asked.

“Your ambition would be… admirable if you knew how to behave with your superiors.” Ethan’s lips curled. “It’s not even the fact that you have little experience in working in larger firms. It is your myopic attributes that make you unsuitable for my company. You don’t have what it takes to work at a big company like this.”

Brandon got to his feet, his lips trembling with rage. “Then let’s make a bet, shall we? You assign me any position in your company, and if I do my job competently for—for half a year, you admit that you were wrong, hold a press conference apologizing to me and those individuals you kept waiting, and give me a glowing recommendation letter when the six months are up.”

The black eyes stared at him, unreadable. “Why should I make a business decision based on some stupid bet?”

Brandon smiled. “What’s the matter? Are you scared of losing the bet, Sir?”

“I don’t make bets I know I will win,” Ethan said. “Nothing is interesting about it.”

Brandon smiled wider. “I think you just know you’ll lose it—that I’ll prove you wrong.”

Although Ethan’s face remained inscrutable, Brandon could tell he had managed to get under his skin. He was good at making proposals. This was a man who wasn’t used to people talking back to him. A man who likely burned to put him in his place.

Ethan leaned back and regarded him for a long moment, a glint appearing in his eyes. “This bet of yours is very one-sided. What’s in it for me? I prefer a give-and-take situation.”

“If I fail, I’ll—I’ll do whatever you want me to do and publicly apologize to you, accepting that I'm a hooligan.”

“You think too highly of yourself if you think your opinion matters to me. It doesn’t. I can have anyone at my beck and call for whatever purpose. People are lined up to take care of my needs, irrespective of how I treat them. So, you trying to look like a saint is useless.”

Brandon’s fingernails dug into his palms. God, he had never wanted to punch anyone more. But he couldn’t. Brandon racked his brain, trying to think of something that would seem like an adequate prize for a powerful, rich man who likely had everything he wanted. There was only one thing he could offer.

“A big company like yours can't handle a scandal from a secretary fired unjustly,” Brandon said. “You know that the CEO title is plastered on every paper that cares to publish about the bad treatment of Wings towards its employees, right?”

Although Ethan didn’t acknowledge it, from the way his expression tightened a little, Brandon knew he was aware of the issue.

“I happen to know a few people who can hold an anti-protest addressing the situation,” Brandon said. “If I lose the bet, I promise that I’ll talk the community into staging a protest to give nothing but good reviews about your company.” The mere idea made him want to puke, but it was the only thing of genuine value that he could offer to this man. Clearly, a good image—money—was all the asshole cared about, and it was undeniable that bad reviews affected the company's image. Besides, Brandon had no intention of losing the bet, so eventually, it didn’t matter.

Ethan was silent for a while, just studying Brandon in a way that made him uneasy. “Fine,” he said at last. “As it happens, I am in need of a Personal Assistant, which is a pressing need. The old one was fired a few hours ago.”

Brandon opened his mouth and then closed it without saying anything.

Ethan smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “You did say you were competent. Second thoughts?”

Brandon put on his most nonchalant look. “No. Why would there be?”

Being a PA couldn’t be that hard. Right? It was just a fancier term for the word secretary.