Chapter 23
The one sitting on the left side of the couch and furthest away from me looked to be in her mid 30's with auburn hair in luxurious layers that could have only been achieved by a stylist who charged hundreds of dollars. She had piercing blue eyes, pale, porcelain skin, and wore a skirt that stopped right at the knee and showed off incredible legs. Her lips were stained a dark crimson, and she wore heavy mascara. She looked like a woman you could find on your arm at any cocktail party, and my immediate reaction was to think, 'that's the one. The rest can go home.'
That would have been premature.
The second was a young woman who appeared in her early twenties. She was small and slender with a bronzed olive skin, eyes so dark they were almost black, and lips painted a shade darker than her complexion. Her hair was silver with a light tinge of violet throughout. Her features were elfin and sharp and she wore a conservative dress that went to her mid-calf. It showed off just enough curves to give me an idea of what she looked underneath while leaving a lot to the imagination. I fell in love twice in the span of a minute.
The one sitting nearest to me was Caucasian, but her complexion gave me the impression that her ancestors were Italian or Mediterranean. She looked to be around thirty, with deep, rich dark brown hair, and brown eyes. She'd come dressed in slacks and a blouse that plunged into a deep V that showed off a generous amount of cleavage from breasts that were easily the largest in the room. All three were giving me radiant smiles that could cause palpitations, but number three caught her plush bottom lip between her teeth and looked me up and down as if looking at a nice cut of steak.
Fuck. These were the candidates Helen had gathered? I wanted them all.
"Ladies, if you'll stay there, I'll call you in individually for the interview," Helen said before I'd had a chance to say anything. I felt her presence just behind my left shoulder and turned to look at her. She gave me an equally dazzling smile, "Mr. Upton, if you'll come with me. Do you need anything before we get started?"
I smiled back at her, enjoying this facade of formality between us. "Yeah, actually. Could I get a coffee?"
"Yes sir," Helen said as she turned and headed toward the office. I followed, glancing over my shoulder at the three stunning women on the couch.
As soon as I entered the office and shut the door, Helen pressed me against the door and leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss that lasted for a good minute. Her well-manicured fingers massaged my pectorals as our tongues dueled. When she parted she gave a little hum and smiled up at me, "Did I do well, Marcus?"
"Huh?" I thought she'd meant the kiss for a moment, then it clicked that she was referring to the candidates. "Oh the girls? Jesus Helen. Where did you find them?"
"Women," she corrected me, then gave me another searing kiss to take the sting out of the correction. "I have a cultivated list of candidates for in-house as well as for clients. The younger one is actually one of Ashlee's friends from college."
I let my hands wander down her back and to her ass, palming and massaging her firm cheeks. "You know, I was actually prepared to ask you what you thought about making Bobbi an assistant."
Helen shook her head before I'd even finished my sentence, "That's a horrible idea, Marcus. You want someone you can trust to have your best interest in mind. I only met Bobbi briefly, but I can already tell she's lazy, entitled, and doesn't have a fraction of the brilliance that those three have."
Helen had just confirmed my suspicions, so I wasn't exactly broken up about it. God only knew what kind of things Bobbi would do if she had access to my personal information, or my coffee and food.
Helen continued, "I've already interviewed and vetted all three of them. I originally had seven possible candidates, but narrowed it down last night. I promise, Marcus… the one you want is sitting on that couch right now."
"I believe you," I said as I glanced in their general direction as if I could see them through the wall. "Can I have them all?"
She laughed and stepped back from me, "If you'd like, but I suggest maybe one assistant for now. I'm sure opportunities will arise for others as time goes on. And I'm positive any of them would be willing for a non-professional encounter if you wished. As I said, I've vetted them thoroughly." There was a LOT of implication there, but she moved on before I could ask for details.
"Please remember Marcus… despite their obvious charms, these women aren't like your little plaything from last night. These women are all well-credentialed with high IQs. They're competent assets to be valued. Not something for you to simply enjoy for a little while and then move on."
"Wait. Are you talking about a relationship?"
"Kind of. I'm not talking about love or anything like that. I've already made my thoughts on that clear. What I'm talking about is a relationship of mutual goals. One that is professional where needed and extra-professional where appropriate. Like you and I have. You could treat them badly, and I could always find more, but I think you would be stabbing yourself in the foot if you operated that way. Respect these women and you will develop quite possibly one of the most valuable relationships you will ever experience."
Two things shocked me.
One was how a woman who had clearly gotten off on the way I'd treated Bobbi was now telling me that I should treat my assistant with respect. Not that I had any intention of handling one of Helen's candidates like I had Bobbi, but her recommendation felt irreconcilable with what I'd seen yesterday.
The other thing was how she referred to them as assets. That one should have shocked me less, but it was just so different from the way I thought of people. Those women had lives, family, hopes, and dreams. I would have never considered using the word 'asset' to describe any of them. Clearly Helen wasn't used to thinking of individuals the same way I did. It made me wonder if that's how she saw me - as nothing more than an asset. It made me wonder yet again just how much I could actually trust her.
'Bobbi also has a life… and hopes and dreams,' I thought to myself.
"Of course," I said as I rounded the office desk, taking note of the three resumes laying on its surface. "You don't have to worry about that, Helen."
"Don't be so sure. Power corrupts, Marcus. It's not just a cute Lord Acton quote. I've seen it first hand." She turned, walked to the door, and placed her hand on the knob, "Don't get me wrong… I'm not opposed to a little corruption. Just be smart about it."
I nodded as I sat down in the chair, "I promise. I'll be smart. Especially with you helping me."
She looked over her shoulder and studied me for a long moment as if weighing my answer. "Good," she said, then opened the door.
"Helen," I said. She paused and looked back at me.
"I can trust you, right?"
The smile she threw at me seemed so sincere and full of warmth. "Your check cleared, Marcus. Of course you can."
And then she slipped out the door and closed it behind her, leaving me to wonder exactly what [i]that[/b] meant.
A few minutes after Naomi left, the door opened and the final candidate walked in.
My first impression was she was very different from the other two in almost every way.
Bella and Naomi had dark hair, were curvy, and had an innate sensuality about them that would have immediately turned the heads of every straight male within sight and inspired every filthy fantasy imaginable. They'd both been relatively tall with fair complexions — Naomi's much fairer than Bella's. Both of them resembled more of a traditional beauty with perfect makeup meant to do one thing — give me an erection. They were also both in their thirties.
My newest interviewee was short, standing 5'2" tall. She had a warm, olive complexion that implied some Middle Eastern or Indian heritage. Her facial features were sharper than those of the other two, who appeared softer. Her more conservative dress didn't show off an abundance of cleavage or leg; it fit her well enough that I could see a more slender figure than the other two. Her hair was predominantly silver with a captivating sheen of purple that ran throughout, and she had bangs that she occasionally had to brush out of her deep brown eyes. She wore dark purple lipstick that perfectly complimented her skin tone. She had a more exotic quality than the other two, and it was difficult to compare this woman to the other two.
She slowly leaned back against the door, using her body weight to shut it fully as she looked me up and down, clearly sizing me up as I sat in my office chair.
And then she smiled.
She'd been stunning before, but her smile was fucking transformative. Seeing her grinning at me… it made me feel like I had just eaten a warm, fresh-baked cookie after coming in from the cold. It also made me feel like I was about to get a lap dance. Overall, this woman gave me the impression of a girl next door trying something new to explore her 'wild' side. As much as I enjoyed looking at her, I had a hard time believing that, either in business or personal matters, she would manage to compare to Naomi's professionalism or Bella's charms.
"You missed a little." She said, pointing to the corner of her mouth.
My heart skipped a beat, and I mirrored her, wiping at the corner of my mouth where she had indicated. A crimson smudge on my finger told me that I had not been as successful at wiping away the evidence of Naomi's kiss as I thought. That lipstick was stubborn as hell. As I wiped away the rest of it with the tissues I'd found in my desk drawer, I couldn't help but wonder if Naomi had marked me so thoroughly on purpose.
"Did I get it?" I asked, feeling a bit sheepish.
"Yes sir!" she said, approaching the desk and holding out her hand. "Erin Malik."
I stood and clasped her hand in mine. Like the rest of her, it felt dainty in my average-sized grip. "Good to meet you, Erin. Marcus Upton."
"So, how have your interviews been so far?" Erin asked as she took the seat in front of my desk. She set her bag down on the floor beside her, letting her shoulder-length, silvery hair fall in a way that showed me a large expanse of the side of her neck and shoulder—it looked perfect for trailing my lips across or sinking my teeth into.
Her question was meant to throw me off, and Marcus from twenty-four hours ago might have reacted like a deer in headlights, but for once in my life, I played it cool and simply replied. "Very well. My lawyer did a good job finding me some highly qualified candidates. I'd say you have quite a bit of competition."
"You got that right," she said, giving me another smile. "Well, the economy is hard. Can't blame a girl for doing what it takes to get a good job."
"That's true," I said, starting to feel a little uncomfortable with her implication. "So what can you tell me about yourself?"
"Hm. What's there to say that isn't already on the resume? I graduated at the top of my class with honors. I play the piano. I'm fluent in six languages: English, Japanese, Spanish, German, Mandarin, and Arabic. I have an auditory eidetic memory, so I'm better at conversations in those languages than I am with the written word, but I can read them all. I'm five feet, two inches, and weigh in at about ninety-six pounds. No kids. No boyfriend or girlfriend. I'm bisexual, and my measurements are thirty-two B, twenty-three, thirty-two."
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