Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
She presses her lips together, then takes a breath. “I mean from last night.”
She’s embarrassed, but I keep my face completely impassive.
“From last night?” I ask, tilting my head slightly, to mess with her.
She huffs. “At the restaurant,” she clarifies. “Can we forget that any of that happened?”
Her voice is firmer this time, but there’s a hint of pleading in her eyes that I don’t miss. It does something to me I don’t appreciate.
I shrug slowly. “It’s forgotten.”
Her shoulders slump just a little in relief. I lean forward, pick up the folder containing her resumé, flip it open, and hold it up slightly, tapping the paper with one finger.
“Now,” I say, my voice even colder than before, “tell me why someone with these qualifications is working as a waitress.”
I watch her face carefully. For a split second, there’s something like indignation there. She doesn’t like the question.
She squares her shoulders again. “I’ve got to pay the bills.”
I nod once, setting the folder down.
Short, honest, and to the point. I can work with that. My eyes don’t leave hers. I make sure of it. I want her squirming and thinking about last night. I want her imagining what else I might do to her.
My eyes flick down to her suit jacket. She’s buttoned up, neat, and professional. I wonder how fast I could have it open. How she’d look with it falling off her shoulders. My fingers twitch slightly against the armrest of my chair.
She shifts in her seat, and I know she’s feeling it too. Her thighs press together almost imperceptibly, but I see it.
She clears her throat again. “The tips are usually good, and it gives me a solid chance to practice my people skills.”
“Did you need to practice your people skills?” I tease.
“It doesn’t hurt to stay sharp,” she answers immediately.
I let the silence stretch for a beat longer than necessary. Her eyes flick to the desk, then back to me. I speak carefully, letting the words come out measured and deliberate.
“You graduated near the top of your class. You completed an advanced cryptography module. You led a team on a senior project that actually got the department head’s attention. And you’re telling me the only option you had after graduation was waiting tables?”
She bristles. I can see it in the way her shoulders tighten. I like seeing that fire in her. I want to see if she’s got enough of it to handle this world.
She lifts her chin. “It was temporary until I found something worth the degree. I didn’t want to settle.”
I nod slowly, pretending to consider the folder. She’s nervous, but she’s holding the line. I shift in my chair, deliberately letting my eyes roam over her in a way that’s just this side of inappropriate. She stiffens even more.
My cock stirs uncomfortably, and I adjust slightly, careful not to let it show in my expression. I lean forward a fraction and tilt my head, watching her. “Why Integrated Solutions?”
“Because your systems are the best. Because no one’s been able to crack them. Because you innovate instead of just selling the same packages over and over.”
She’s gaining steam now, words coming faster.
“I want to work somewhere that actually cares about security. About doing it right.” She stops, breathing hard.
I let the silence fall again.
Finally, I nod once. “Good answer.”
It’s honest and smart. She has exactly the kind of mind I want working for me. And the kind of mouth I want around me for very different reasons. My fingers curl once against the desk.
I force myself to look down at the folder again, scanning lines without even seeing them.
“We have a rigorous training period here. It won’t be a free ride.”
She straightens. “I don’t want a free ride.”
Her voice is firm.
“Let’s talk about your degree,” I say, turning the attention toward safer topics.
She swallows, nods once.
“You graduated top of your class,” I continue. “With a double major in computer science and applied mathematics. That’s not easy.”
She lifts her chin a fraction. “No. It wasn’t.”
I arch a brow. “And the cryptography module? That was advanced work.”
She shrugs one shoulder, trying for casual. “I like puzzles.”
My mouth twitches slightly before I catch it. I can’t help imagining her in that same calm, focused state while I set a new kind of puzzle in front of her. One involving my belt buckle and her lips.
I need to focus.
“Tell me about your senior project.”
She straightens, looking at her hands as she recalls the project. “We designed a new encryption standard. Used modular arithmetic and lattice-based structures to make it resistant to quantum attacks.”
I nod, impressed despite myself. “Your professor recommended you.”
“I know,” she says, a little stiffly.
She’s embarrassed. I can see it in the way she glances at her hands.
“You know you can do better.”
Her head jerks up, eyes wide. She opens her mouth like she’s going to argue. Then she closes it. “I do,” she says quietly.