Chapter One

"Mr. Burke will be with you shortly, Miss Kincaid."

Jewell nodded and smiled at the woman behind the desk whom Travis Traynor had introduced as LaTrisha Jordan. She took the wait as an opportunity to calm her twisting nerves, pulling in a deep breath as she wiped her palms down her skirt. She"d already been at Bulwark Mutual Funds for nearly two hours, completed preliminary interviews with Human Resources and Mr. Traynor—one of the department heads within the Capital Management division—and had apparently impressed them sufficiently to move on to an interview with Kevin Burke, Mid-Cap Assets Manager.

She turned away from the high paneled, wooden desk to survey the room. Mr. Traynor had called this the bullpen; a twelve hundred square foot open space on the seventeenth floor of the Bulwark building, lined on parallel walls with dark wood doors. There was a desk identical to LaTrisha"s for each two doors, six desks on each side of the room, for the administrative support staff assigned to each fund manager team. A brass nameplate on the front of each receptionist-style desk indicated the name of a fund manager and division. Below that, a smaller plate with each manager"s executive support staff member.

A low hum of conversation, accompanied by the click of keyboards and the occasional twitter of a phone, skimmed through the room. Someone laughed several desks down.

"I apologize for the delay," LaTrisha said, and Jewell turned. "Mr. Burke has been stuck on a call."

"Not a problem at all."

A door slammed behind her and Jewell jumped, as did everyone within her line of sight. An older woman stood outside one of the many doors along the hall, her cheeks flushed bright red with her hands clenched at her side, her lips bunched up in an angry purse. A young woman with dark brown hair seated at the desk outside the recently slammed door, startled in her chair at the sound. One by one, curious heads disappeared again behind their high desk walls.

The older woman headed for the younger at the desk, cutting her left hand through the air. While Jewell couldn"t make out her words, the tone was enough to express anger. Based on the way the younger pushed back, Jewell wondered if she was the recipient of misplaced frustration.

She didn"t realize she"d stepped closer until the woman"s words came into comprehendible focus.

"I don"t know who the hell he thinks he is. Thinks he can get away with talking to me like I don"t know what I"m doing. I"ve been in this industry since before the Dow hit 5K!"

The younger woman looked around, briefly making eye contact with Jewell, her cheeks flushing. "Carol…"

"What? It"s not like he hears me."

"Carol!" the younger said louder. "He doesn't but everyone else does."

Carol huffed, turned, and stormed away. Once she was away, the younger woman at the desk sighed, her shoulders visibly dropping, and she braced her hand across her forehead. Jewell glanced around and spotted a water bubbler. She crossed the room and filled a cup before going to the desk. The brunette looked up when Jewell set down the cup, looking surprised as she reached for it.

"Thank you."

"Rough day," Jewell stated since it wasn't a question, keeping her voice low. She smiled, trying to keep the conversation light.

The woman shook her head, frowning. "Sometimes I feel like a kid watching my parents argue. Except that would imply that at some point there might have been some sort of affection between them."

"Clashing personalities, huh?"

The woman"s laugh was humorless. "That"s putting it mildly. Mr. Roth isn"t exactly the easiest person to work for. He's demanding and holds everyone to high expectations. Carol is convinced she knows more because she"s been in the industry longer. She doesn"t like?—"

"Being questioned?"

April nodded and sighed. Jewell squinted, trying to grab hold of a mental note floating around the edge of her memory.

"Roth. Benjamin Prescott Roth?"

April nodded again, arching her eyebrows in a look of surprise. "Yes. You know him?"

"I know of him. My economics professor once used Mr. Roth"s profile analysis process as an example in class."

"Mr. Roth is very good at what he does. He"s just—" The woman stopped herself, rolled her eyes, and offered a half smile, then extended her hand. "Sorry. I"m April Baker, and the woman who just left is Carol Soldano. Are you applying for the position with Mr. Burke?"

"I am."

"I hope you don"t think this is what it"s like to work here. Most of the fund managers are very nice, and everyone works great together. And it's not that Mr. Roth isn't nice. It"s just Mr. Roth and Carol."

"It"s not me, it"s him," Carol snapped, coming back from wherever she"d gone, still scowling. When she spoke again, she said his name with a mocking frown. "B.P. Roth is full of himself, obnoxious, arrogant, and demanding. If you don't do what he wants, the way he wants it, when he wants it, he"s intolerable."

The office door behind April"s desk opened and the commanding presence of B.P. Roth stepped into the hall. Having already formed a mental image of a late-middle-aged, probably barrel-shaped man with a growing bald spot, Jewell was surprised to see a young man, probably mid-thirties, with caramel-blond hair that waved back from his forehead, and a defined, chiseled chin. There was an inherent strength in the set of his jaw. The starched-white shirt and tailored slacks accentuated a tall and athletic build. His distinct profile turned from Jewell, deep brown eyes sought out and found the two women in his employ. April sat straighter, but Carol just sighed deep and long.

He barely glanced at Carol, focusing on April, resting his arm on the ledge of the high desk. "Make an appointment with Rowlings tomorrow. Book a conference room and inform senior management of the incubated Asian fund. Everyone is to attend."

His voice held a softer, somewhat incomplete quality despite its rough huskiness, with a slight rounding of his syllables. Jewell instinctively recognized the inflection, though his voice was perhaps more refined than she was familiar with.

April nodded "Yes, sir."

Only then did Mr. Roth"s glare shift to Carol. "Still wasting time, Mrs. Soldano." There was no inflection of question in his voice, but Jewell"s intuition said it wasn"t for lack of hearing. It was a statement.

"No, Mr. Roth," she said and managed to school her features despite the derisive tone lacing her words. She reached over the side of the high desk to retrieve a pen, and to obscure her face from his view. "See what I mean?" Carol said under her breath. "Barking commands. Wouldn"t be anywhere if it wasn"t for everyone else doing the work. Entitled son of a bitch."

Jewell might have stayed silent, despite how the situation grated on her if Carol hadn"t purposefully dragged her into it. She drew in a slow, balancing breath and released it through her nose as she set her briefcase on the floor to free both her hands. She turned, but only enough that she knew both Carol and Mr. Roth would see her, providing him with the respect Carol Soldano apparently would not.

"What is it you do, Carol?" she asked, keeping her voice level. Carol straightened, the pen she"d used as an excuse in her hand. "What position do you hold?"

Carol scowled but answered. "Executive Support."

"Executive Support," she repeated. "A position of great responsibility." Raising her hands, Jewell signed as she spoke. "I doubt you would be so glib if you were held responsible for your words."

Carol"s eyes widened, and she looked from Jewell to Mr. Roth, and back to Jewell. Her jaw worked like a fish gasping in air, and her face flushed bright before she stepped back from the desk and marched toward one of the doors behind the desk.

Mr. Roth turned his glare on Jewell. His eyes were hard, his jaw set, and he squinted slightly as he stared.

Before she lost her nerve, she raised her hands to sign. "It's hard not to speak up when someone is that rude." She canted her head and arched an eyebrow when she added, "Please and thank you might have helped."

With two long strides, he moved closer to her. A light eyebrow arched high over his eye. "And you are?" he demanded with a jut of his chin.

The momentary disorientation of her senses when he closed the space between them surprised her. His presence was so overpowering, that it acted like a force field around his body pushing against her when he neared. A hint of the masculine scent he wore filled her senses, sandalwood and a subtle oriental spice. Her cheeks warmed.

Not allowing his presence to daunt her, she spoke and signed together, finger-spelling out her name. "Jewell Kincaid."

"Do I know you?" he asked.

Jewell shook her head. "No."

"Yet you feel the need to comment on my employee"s actions." The sharp movements of his hands expressed his annoyance, but she thought perhaps she caught a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "And mine?"

She noted his method of signing was closer to Pidgin Signed English than American Sign Language, which made sense considering his apparent ability to read lips and use spoken language. The syntax of PSE was closer to the speech pattern of a natural speaker, and to be an effective lip reader he"d be familiar with spoken English"s rhythm. His tone and inflection implied he'd been either deaf or profoundly hard of hearing for the majority of his life. It was a strange contrast; one thing implied loss of hearing after learning speech, and the other implied a lifetime without hearing.

Being a child of a deaf adult sometimes gave her more insight than was probably appropriate. But, she couldn't just turn it off when she wanted.

Jewell licked her lips. She felt as flushed as Carol had looked before disappearing into her office. "I have a difficult time staying silent around ignorance." She paused, stilling her hands, before adding "and arrogance."

His eyebrow arched again, higher this time. "Are you here for an interview?"

She nodded.

"Who?"

"Mr. Burke."

Mr. Roth"s hand shot out, palm up, in demand. "Give me your résumé."

Jewell met his stare, not willing to yield to his lack of manners. "Please?"

His lopsided smirk told her she wouldn"t get the satisfaction of him asking nicely, but he also wasn't angry with her commentary. He wiggled his fingers impatiently, and she thought she caught the instigating glint of a challenge in his eyes. Holding his gaze, Jewell crouched down to retrieve her extra résumé from her attaché case and handed it to him. After he took it and said nothing, she touched her fingertips to her lips and brought her flat hand down.

"You"re welcome," she added.

He didn"t respond to the sarcasm beyond an almost indiscernible tip of his lips into a smile that disappeared as quickly as it threatened to appear.

"You have your Series Six, Series Eighty-Six, and Series Eighty-Seven licenses," he read. "No Sixty-Three?"

Jewell bit back a snappy response. "No. I haven"t decided in what state I want to take the test. I've lived in both New Hampshire and Massachusetts."

Mr. Roth read the whole sheet and handed it back to her. "What position are you interviewing for?"

"Administrative support for Mr. Burke."

He shook his head and waved his hand in argument. "You are overqualified."

Jewell conceded with a nod. "Perhaps."

LaTrisha waddled across the space to them, slightly out of breath with one hand resting on her near-ready-to-burst pregnant belly, and touched Jewell"s arm. "Ms. Kincaid? Mr. Burke is just about ready to see you now."

"Thank you."

She glanced toward April and smiled. "It was nice to meet you," she said and made eye contact again with Mr. Roth.

His direct stare unnerved her, but she managed a smile and nod in farewell. Jewell followed LaTrisha back to Mr. Burke"s office but swore she felt Mr. Roth"s stare burning into her back. Just before passing through the office door, Jewell glanced back and confirmed her suspicion. Mr. Roth stood where she"d left him, one hand curled in a relaxed fist against his hip while the other braced against the edge of April"s desk. He wasn"t smiling, nor was he frowning, and the only acknowledgment she got that he still saw her was the slight lifting of a single brow. Jewel forced herself to look away and focus on the man she hoped would soon be her new boss.

Kevin Burke, a not-quite-middle-aged man with light brown hair and a thick but not heavy build, met her at the door with a smile and ushered her into his office. They sat and talked for the next forty-five minutes about the responsibilities involved in the position. Jewell realized Mr. Roth had been right. This was strictly an administrative position, and with her experience and education, she was severely overqualified. Most likely, she would be bored out of her mind within a week.

But even as administrative support, the position offered $10,000 more a year than her current job at Safeguard Fiduciary. Right now, her concern was money, not job satisfaction. Since her sister had moved in to attend college in the city, her budget had tightened considerably. The whole purpose of Ruby moving in was to save her parents the expense of room and board, and Jewell refused to take any money from them to help. Another ten grand a year would be just the cushion her budget needed. And the benefits were impressive. Jewell resolved the drop in responsibilities would be worth it in the end. Of course, it didn"t have to be forever.

As she left the imposing building sometime after one o"clock, Jewell decided she felt good about the entire interview process. She knew she had made a good impression, and felt confident the offer would come. Unless, of course, her impulse to call Mr. Roth to task ended up taking her out of the running.

Jewell shook off her thoughts as she returned to her car in a nearby parking garage. She had enough time to go home and change, maybe get something to eat, before she headed back out to pick up Ruby from the Northeastern University campus. Tonight was family dinner night at the Kincaid house, and Jewell looked forward to getting out of the city for a while.

* * *

Jewell"s cell phone twittered inside her bag just as she finished dinner at her parents". She excused herself to the hall and dug it out, wincing as someone banged around pots and pans in the kitchen. A glance at the screen told her it was a number within Bulwark Mutual Funds. Taking a quick, fortifying breath, Jewell answered.

"Hello," she said, hoping she disguised her nervousness.

"Hello, Jewell. This is Travis Traynor at Bulwark. Have I called too late in the evening?"

"Not at all, Mr. Traynor."

"Good. I tend to work late and forget the rest of the world actually has a life," he said with a chuckle. "As you can guess, I"m calling about your interview today."

"Yes?"

Mr. Traynor seemed to struggle for words and Jewell had the sinking feeling this was a different kind of call than she expected. Apparently the interview hadn"t gone as well as she thought. Of course, giving attitude to one of their top fund managers before she ever managed to get hired might have been the nail in the coffin. Then again, not many companies bothered to call if you didn"t get the job.

"There has been a change in staffing needs. That is to say, we no longer need to fill the administrative position. Another individual internally will be taking it."

She dropped her shoulders, but carefully covered up her sigh. "I understand, Mr. Traynor."

"So we were wondering if you would consider a different position at Bulwark."

Jewell stood straighter. "What position?"

"Instead of an administrative position, we would like to offer you one in executive support. It"s the next level up and would pay an additional $15,000 a year, with quarterly bonuses and a possible raise after six months."

Jewell"s jaw dropped. Another $15,000 a year would give her $25,000 more a year than she made right now.

"Do I need to come in for another interview, or is it for Mr. Burke as well?"

"No, you don"t need to come in. It"s not for Kevin, but the fund manager you will be working with seemed comfortable with your qualifications. Based on your interview today we"ve already initiated the background check, but I have no concerns. When can you start?"

"I"d like to give a two-week notice to my current employer."

"Well, I understand. But I want to let you know Mr. Roth personally offered an additional $5,000.00 signing bonus if you can begin on Monday."

"Mr. Roth?" The question came out as a rough whisper. A nervous wave tickled over Jewell"s skin.

"Yes. You will be working for our best international fund manager, Mr. Benjamin Prescott Roth."