When she entered, she was still shocked by the enormity of the room. It was bigger than three of her apartments put together. There was a full-length pool table on one side, a fully stocked bar near that. On the other side of the room was a set of leather furniture facing a television screen that took up an entire wall.
Red was sitting at his desk. It was a monstrosity; old, ornate, it must have weighed a ton. Behind him was a floor to ceiling picture window that overlooked the entire city. However, he’d lowered one of the curtains, which blocked most of the light. She could still see the city filtering through the semi-opaque material.
“Don’t be intimidated,” he said, standing and walking around his desk. He was wearing one of his typical gray suits. It was almost reflective. His tie was purple and thin. In person he was larger than she expected, and his magnetism was stunning. She found herself star struck and nearly speechless.
“Hello,” she murmured.
He continued to close in on her. His presence was so intense that she didn’t know what to do. Literally. She was frozen in place and he just kept moving until he was no more than six inches from her. He was like a movie star stepping off the big screen and smiling at her. His eyes were so confident, his manner was so strong and powerful. No boy or man she’d ever met could come close to projecting his sex appeal or his intelligence.
“I’m Red Jameson, founder and CEO of Jameson International.” He held out his large hand to her.
She shook it. “I’m aware of who you are,” she said, sounding more abrupt than she’d intended.
He grinned and held her hand for longer than was comfortable. “What else are you aware of?”
She pulled her hand back. “I’ve read a lot about the company.”
“Have a seat, Miss—“
“Masters.”
“Miss Masters. What a wonderful name.” He smiled briefly. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Please.” She was grateful for him asking. Her mouth tasted like chalk.
He moved toward the bar, which was so far away it might as well been in a different state. “What would you like?” he called back.
“Water’s fine.”
He grabbed a bottle and came back, his movements graceful and sleek.
She sat down in the chair opposite his desk and crossed her legs, suddenly aware of the way her skirt rode up her thighs. She felt, in his presence, a vulnerability and nakedness that surprised her.
“Here,” he said, handing her a cold bottle of Evian. “Let me know if you need anything else. To use the bathroom perhaps?”
“No, thank you.” She opened the water and took a few long gulps.
Red sat on the edge of his desk. His leg was only a small distance to hers, he could have practically touched her if he’d just extended his black leather shoe a little bit.
“So,” he said, “I’ve heard very positive things about you so far.”
“I’m glad.”
“What did you think of everyone you met?”
She pondered. “Everyone seems really nice.”
His eyes focused on hers with an intensity that was disconcerting. She dropped her gaze to the floor.
Red didn’t say anything until she looked at him again. “Everyone seems nice?” he repeated. “That’s a bit trite. I don’t like canned answers, Miss Masters.”
A small buzz of fear ran through her stomach. She’d made it this far. How humiliating would it be to lose the job because Red Jameson himself hated her?
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m very nervous.”
“No need to be. We’re just talking.”
“You’re a pretty big deal,” she said, gripping the bottle more tightly.
That made him laugh. He threw his head back. His dark curly hair bounced a little as he did so. When he looked at her again, he seemed looser somehow. “I like that,” he told her. “I’m a pretty big deal. I need to have you get on the phone and remind my parents of that.”
“They don’t know it?”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately not. The big offices and jets don’t fool the people who raised you.”
“Well, I didn’t raise you so…I’m kind of scared right now.”
He laughed again. “You’re honest, Nicole. I like that.”
She hadn’t told him her first name, but someone else must have. Obviously. He’d probably seen her resume too. But still, she liked the way he said her name. She re-crossed her legs and his eyes strayed to them before returning to her face.
“I’d work very hard if I get this internship,” she said, nervously twisting and untwisting the cap on her water bottle.
“I believe you would.” He got up from the desk and walked behind her chair, circling. “But then again, so would the hundreds of other applicants.”
“I know I can do this job.”
“What can you do? Tell me.”
“Anything and everything the creative department needs from me,” she said. “Making copies, getting coffee, faxes, emails, research, making phone calls.”
“Yes, yes, yes, to all of those things. But there’s more to it then that.” He stopped in front of her, sat on the desk again and folded his arms. “I need people who are fearless. Absolutely fearless. People who will go to the very edge of their capabilities and then beyond them. I want to hire people who will do whatever it takes to be here.”