CH 8 - KATHERINE

I wake up energized, minutes before my alarm is set to ring. I have a big interview with the CEO of a major corporation today. This interview is big; like potential promotion big. No one has ever managed a true interview with the head boss of Brinewick Corp. In truth, I have been burnt out with this job; a job that was what I thought I wanted, but turned out to be more tedious tasks and unsatisfying workloads. But this job, this interview, is a once-in-a-career opportunity that I am finally excited for.

 I get ready quickly, washing and curling and swiping on makeup. I give myself an assessing once-over at my reflection in the mirror. I went with black dress pants that synch around my waist, and cling to my legs enough to show the definition, but without being indecent for work. A long, bell-sleeved red blouse dips just low enough to show off the very upper swell of my breast, with my push up bra keeping the girls tame under the v-neck.

Professional, yet just the right amount of sexy to make this rich CEO more willing to talk to me openly. Hopefully, at least. He may still not be into it, but my game plan is to just be calm and open myself, and then play it by ear as we go.

I slip into my small black heels, clipping the strap around my ankle, and asses once more. Leaving my lips bare, I grab my purse, making sure all my interviewing materials are tucked safely within, and head out quietly, careful not to wake Audrey. The girl sleeps like a rock, but I am usually up and out about an hour before she is, so I still try to be quiet.

I slip into my car, and, popping it into gear, I start thinking through my interview questions as I drive. I arrive ten minutes later at a monolith of a stone building scraping against the blue sky. Brinewick. The major umbrella corporation that owns practically the whole city. No one knows how he has managed the extensions he’s made. At least, no one willing to share is talking.

I pause to breath before heading straight through the doors to stop at the sleek reception desk in the lobby.

“How can I help you?” Asked the skinny blonde behind the desk. This woman screams prime and put together. Her scowl also screams get out while her narrowed eyes scrutinize my pants. What else could I expect from a receptionist working in this job, though?

“Hi, I am Katherine Douglas. I’m here for a scheduled interview with Mr. Romano.” I keep my voice steady and respectful. Her eyes flick over me again, and then she is shuffling around some papers, reading little notes in blue and red ink. He must be a busy man.

Obviously, Katherine. CEO, remember?

I mentally slap myself in the head.

“Ah, yes, he is expecting you. Take the elevator up to the top floor. His office is straight down the hall.” She smiles at me; her posture soften now that she knows I'm not intruding on their busy schedule. I return it before thanking her. I head for the elevator, marveling at the intricacies of this building; the slick marble floors and the sleek black walls. I reign in my shock at the expensive art hanging up, not really paying attention to where I am walking.

Then I am colliding head on with what felt like a wall of granite. I glance up and look straight into the same smoky grey eyes that lurked in every corner of my dreams last night.

Um. What. My brain is short-circuiting.

“Wha— um. What?”

Eloquent, Kat.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly amused at my discombobulation. And, shit, I am staring. I open my mouth to try again, but nothing comes out.

“Gattina,” he purrs. I have no idea what that means, but damn do I love the way he says it. Heat flows down my spine, and pools between my legs.

“Hi, Adam,” I finally manage to croak out, stupidly hoping he can't tell the effect he has on me. I need to focus. “I uh have to go.”

I turn on my heel, walking hurriedly the rest of the way to the elevator. I can feel his eyes on my back, like a caress on my figure as I stand waiting for it to come down. Finally, with a high-pitched ding, the doors slide open, and I practically leap inside jamming my thumb on the door close button, willing it to go faster. I push the button for the top floor a little gentler, letting out a long sigh when gravity shifts and I start moving up. I spend the time trying to get Adam’s face out of my head, so I can focus on my interview.

Work, Katherine, work.

No thinking about the smoldering grey eyes, or that infernal smirk that knows too much.

I reach the top floor, composing myself before stepping out. It's silent, no one wandering the thin halls, the only noise being my heels clicking against the marble. Walking toward the black door at the far end, I notice there isn’t a lot to this floor. A long thin hallway lined with doors at even intervals; most are closed, but some are open to reveal open floor plans with round tables, and chairs scattered around. I pass another open door leading to, what I am guessing is a small kitchen, based on the wafting scent of coffee, and low hum of appliances. There is one janitor closet I pass on the other side of the hall, and then it's just the office door in front of me, framed by black-tinted glass.

I tilt up my chin and knock, loud and firm.

“Come in,” hollers a deep, husky voice. I turn the handle, and the door opens automatically in a silent flourish. I sweep inside, eyes quickly observing the grand office before landing on the imposing mountain of a man in a luxurious office chair. “Ah, Miss Douglas, please take a seat,” he tells me motioning to the significantly less impressive chairs in front of his desk.

I gently sit, pants sliding against the leather. Everything in here looks like it costs more than my apartment. And that desk— oh man that desk. The top is surprisingly thin in width, narrow enough for the toes of his shiny shoes to peek out on my side of the desk. What it loses in width, however, it gains in length; the wood stretching in a long U-shape around his body, tall and thick, like a protective barrier between him and those on this side.

Interesting.

His power and prowess are undoubtedly on display here.

“Thank you so much for meeting with me,” I say politely. “You don’t mind if I record our interview for my personal records?”

“That is no problem at all.” He smiles at me, the action genuine, but I can see the spark in his eyes as they ogle my form; scanning up and down, and coming back up to meet my gaze. He has deep brown eyes that match the rich shade of his hair. Something about his intensity seems eerily familiar, but I shake off the feeling. I need to focus. I pull out my phone, silencing it before opening my audio recorder, and placing it face down on the edge of the desk. I take out my notebook, already full of interview questions, and snap off the cap of my pen with my teeth.

“Shall we begin?” I ask, and he nods his head in affirmation. One quick up and down. “Mr. Romano. That is Italian, is it not?”

“That it is doll, I am a born and bred Italian man,” he replies, puffing his chest out just slightly as he does. I give him a warm smile, and continue.

“So, what propelled the decision to move to the midwestern United States instead of staying at home in Italy?”

            “Well doll,” I cringe a little at the nickname. It comes out patriarchally domineering, but I put on a tight smile nonetheless as he continues. “The answer to that question is simply profit.” I raise my eyebrows, inviting him to go on. “I knew there would be many better opportunities in a city like this lovely one than back there. So, I picked up our roots, and the three of us moved here.”

            “The three of you? Who moved with you?”

Personal facts. I need these.

            “Myself, my late wife, and our son.” He pauses, “Actually, my son should still be here in the building. I can have him come up and join us.” He presses a button on his desk before I can get a word in. “Maya, please send Emilio up to my office.” Ah, it must be an intercom to his secretary.

Wait, Emilio, where have I heard that name?

A memory scratches at the back of my brain.

“So, is your son going to take over the business after you one day?” I ask, shaking the thought away. Focus, Katherine.

“That’s the plan. Assuming he keeps his nose out of trouble.” I allot a small laugh, wanting to keep the mood light. Interviewing the son as well, was not in my original, plan but a good journalist can see an opportunity like this one; the current CEO, and the son who will be the successor. I basically just got a double interview. I will just have to improvise some of my questions.

I hear the door slide open behind me, so I stand to greet the new addition to my piece. I place a smile on my face, turning on the balls of my feet, only to be stopped cold when I see the man encompassing the doorway. His smoky eyes pierce mine, and he smiles a knowingly wicked smile.

I am in big trouble.

“Son! Miss Douglas here is interviewing me for a piece she is writing about our corporation. I thought you could sit in as well, provide additional comments for her.”

“Yes sir, I’d be happy to.” His tone is curt, yet respectful. He turns to me, “Ma’am.” His lip twitches as he inclines his head in my direction, but he stays composed. I need to as well. I have a job to do, and I will not let this man mess it up.