3. Ellis

CHAPTER 3

ELLIS

I barely glance up as Priscilla shows the next candidate into the room. The woman smiles nervously at us, and I give her another look.

She has reddish-brown hair that's been neatly twisted back into a braid, and soft, pastel-pink lips that are full and pouting and make the most gorgeous smile, one that flashes all the way up to her eyes, making her brown irises sparkle. She has high cheekbones, a sharp nose, and a certain humble air about her that catches my interest.

On top of all that, despite not being tall, her weight is balanced in all the right places, giving her curves and a gentle softness that makes her pleasant to look at. And the heels she's wearing show off her legs very nicely.

The skirt-and-blazer combo could use work, but I can live with that. At least she looks neat and tidy, and like she washes, which is already doing better than two of the candidates we've seen today.

Imagine! Showing up to an interview and not showering! I can't believe that woman thought she would get anywhere in the process.

So, after a full day of mediocre people, finally it looks like I'm getting someone who might be worth my time.

If her brains are anything like her body, then I really will be winning. She's easily the most attractive woman I've seen all day. The kind of girl I would be proud to have representing my name. The kind of girl who can disarm people with her looks, and then when they underestimate her, take them down with her mind.

I get to my feet and clear my throat. She stands frozen still, staring at me like she's just realized who I am. It's not like I'm not well-known. If she's read a newspaper, or been online at all even once, she'll at least have heard my name, if not recognize my face.

There's nothing like being infamous.

"Good morning," she says tentatively.

"You're late," I reply, frowning.

She blushes a little. "I had to drop my daughter off at daycare."

"How old is she?" asks Priscilla.

I glance at Priscilla, nodding in approval. That's a good question. This woman might be attractive, but I need someone who's going to give me everything. I need someone who can devote their time to me.

Of course, I can't discriminate against women with babies, and I never would — after all, I have a high level of employee satisfaction to maintain, and even the smallest whispering of discrimination or unhappiness will make scores in that department plummet overnight. And it's supposed to be good to be nice to people… or something.

But I need to know she's here for the job. She can do whatever she likes outside the office, but while she's here, she needs to be a hundred percent dedicated.

"Nine months," smiles the woman.

"What was your name?" I ask, cutting her off.

She blinks in confusion. Obviously, I could just look down at the piece of paper in front of me, but I never read résumés.

I'm only here because I don't trust my staff to hire me someone who's up to my standards. I'm starting to see why the hiring process is so slow and painful, though. We've been doing this all morning, and we haven't even got one single candidate who was remotely good enough.

I have high expectations for this mystery woman, but the way she's flustering around does not fill me with confidence.

Maybe looks aren't great to judge people on, after all. Who would have thought it?

"My name is Marina," she says, straightening herself up like she just remembered she's meant to be giving a good impression.

"Sit," I say, gesturing loosely at the chair in front of me. She doubles her effort to smile and takes her seat.

"All right. So, what was your last position?" I ask, staring hard at her. I'll confess, I am trying to unsettle her a little, but I want to see how she acts under pressure. My PA will have a lot of duties, and I need someone with a level head, even when there's a deadline or a lot to do. Or a guy who's well-known for being difficult giving you a dirty look.

"I was a personal assistant to the CEO of Seattle East Bank."

"Tell me more."

She's not revealing herself to be totally underqualified yet, but we're less than five minutes into this interview. Anything could change.

"I was in charge of Mr. Foster's day-to-day planning. I ran any errands that needed doing, and I sat with him in every meeting to take notes. I was in charge of making sure all the websites and the social media channels were up to date or being updated by people who knew what they were doing. Any task Mr. Foster needed done, I was there to either do or to delegate."

"So, you would choose to delegate over just doing something yourself," I sniff, unimpressed.

"Yes," she says, shuffling uncomfortably. "I would delegate if the situation required it — if I was too busy with other issues, or didn't have the required skill set to adequately perform a task."

"Isn't the point of a personal assistant that you have the adequate skill set to perform any task?" I raise both eyebrows. Marina's mouth wobbles as she tries to think of a comeback for me. I guess it's almost impressive that she's refusing to back down, but more than anything I can't wait for her to leave. Just another candidate down the drain.

There's a drawn-out moment of silence as she thinks, and Priscilla and I share a look out of the corners of our eyes.

Eventually Marina remembers that she's supposed to be speaking. "I have an excellent ability to perform almost any administrative task in an office setting, as well as manage a small team and make sure everything is done within a good timeframe and up to perfect standards. However, there were also occasions where Mr. Foster called for things to be done that were above and beyond any duties I was supposed to have. In those circumstances, yes, I would delegate. And I don't feel ashamed about doing so."

My eyebrows raise even higher. This woman's got a lot of fight in her. From the look of her, I would have expected her to be meek and accommodating. Looks like she might actually have something going on in there, after all.

Still, her answer wasn't perfect. I agree that if you don't have the skills, you shouldn't do the job. But I would never have admitted to not doing my job so quickly.

"Okay, moving on," I say, noticing the way she crumples as I do. She's right to think that that wasn't the right answer, but it's not great of her to show me that she thinks so too. I think we're just going to have to get through the rest of this interview quickly so everyone can go to lunch.

It's Thursday, so that means pasta in the cafeteria today. One of the things I'm famous for is having a fully subsidized cafeteria in which my employees can get lunch. Everyone might think I'm an asshole, and I might be, but the best way to attract real talent and make employees want to be here is to pay them a great wage and to give them great benefits.

I'm not stupid. I'm already rich enough that losing profits means barely anything to me. When you're a billionaire, nothing means a thing anymore.

But reputation is something you can't fake.

Priscilla makes a move to take over the questions, and I basically tune out of the rest of the answers. Everything Marina says is all very run-of-the-mill anyway: "I am an excellent candidate for this job because I'm nice and smart and blah, blah, blah…"

One day someone will do something that will really impress me, but today is not that day.

I glance at the wall clock. Ugh. Every candidate has the right to at least twenty minutes with us, and somehow only five have passed. This is painful.

Why did I agree to do this? I am never, ever sitting in on interviews again. I'd rather go through a hundred PAs than have to do this again.

Unfortunately for me, Priscilla believes in fairness and giving everyone a chance. Which I guess is fortunate on a business front, but it's absolute hell on me for having to sit here listening to this.

And from the look on Marina's face, she's pretty ready to escape all this, too. I guess we've gone and wasted everyone's time.

No. I am not sitting in on interviews ever, ever again.