Love So Dark Billionaire Romance Duet - Stasia Black Page 0,2

don’t know how to take him or his words. I can’t read him. Dammit. Even if he’s mocking me, I still have to fight for this.

“I understand that it might not be conventional to list an unfinished degree in the educational experience area, but those courses are relevant to the work this company does.” I hold my trembling hands together and hide them in my lap. “For example, in my advanced robotics course, we studied the real-time reaction simulation algorithm you and Jackson Vale developed while at MIT. You were only students, but you pushed the state-of-the-art years forward from where it had been.” Good. My voice is coming out confident. I sit up even straighter, if that’s possible. Fake it till you make it, right?

I continue. “I’m only on a short hiatus from Stanford, with just a semester left. So it’s not that I never completed college,” I smile a winner’s smile, “it’s that I’m about to finish and for now I’m just after some real-world experience.” He doesn’t have to know that with a toddler and a constant need for steady income, the thought of tackling my last twenty-one credit hours of college has been too overwhelming to even consider.

“Real-world experience.” This time the lip twitch is definitely a smirk. Bastard. It’s a struggle to keep my face open and pleasant, but I do it.

He glances back down at my resume. “Such as The Bridge Bar & Grill? And Hooters? I assume that’s where these communication skills you touted were developed?”

Fuuuuuuuuuck. I knew I should’ve left Hooters off. But if I had, I’d have no work history before a year and a half ago. I worked at Hooters for three years, from when I turned eighteen till I was twenty-one. I had to hide it from my parents when I was still at home and going to community college for my first couple years before transferring, but it was the only place to earn any real money in our podunk-freakin’ town. Plus, I was an assistant manager by the end. That counts for leadership skills.

I feel my cheeks heating up, but when I look at Bryce Gentry, his eyes aren’t where I’d have predicted they’d be. He’s not looking at my double D’s again. He’s staring straight at me. In the eye. It’s like for the first time in the entire interview, he’s looking at me.

I don’t care if he’s being an ass and judging me like everyone else in my life has. I keep my voice confident. “Look, I did what I had to do to get out of the tiny-ass town where I grew up. No one there ever amounted to anything special. That wasn’t going to be me.”

He doesn’t have to know that I’ve already learned my lesson the hard way that I’m not a special fucking snowflake. I was an idiot with all my big dreams and princess wishes.

All I want now is to be able to pay rent and keep custody of my son, Charlie—and all this bastard needs to know is that I want this job and I’ll do anything to get it. “I know how to work hard and do whatever it takes to get the job done.”

One of his eyebrows lifts and there’s challenge in his face. “Will you really, Callie Cruise?” Even the way he says my name is clearly mocking. My name has never sounded blonder than it does coming from his lips. “Will you really do whatever it takes?”

My jaw thrusts out. I can take what this guy dishes. “Absolutely.”

He smiles an easy, carefree smile. “Then open the front of your shirt and take out your tits.”

“What?” I choke out.

Some of his easy demeanor drops. A challenging glint enters his eye. “You said you’d do whatever it took. Do you need this job or don’t you?”

I— I—

I cannot believe this. This is— I can’t— how can this be happening in the 21st century? After Harvey Weinstein and Matt Lauer and Me Too? Yeah my assets have gotten me work, and tips, and I know that we live in a shady world where bosses still ogle their employees. But this? This man—so respected in his field, just asking so blatantly for me to… to…

Bryce Gentry waves his hand as if dismissing me. “I really thought you wouldn’t be so squeamish considering your work history.” He looks completely uninterested now.

I stand up, ready to spit fire at him. “I’m not a fucking prostitute!”

He stands up as well, his interest