I had to do was suck up my intense personal dislike of him.
The thought made me tired, the stress of the past few years suddenly bearing down on me. All I’d done since earning my degree was go from one crap job to another, earning nothing, getting nowhere. I should be trying for jobs at architecture firms, but I hadn’t been successful so far. And I knew why that was.
The people in the industry knew of my association with the Kings and they didn’t want to employ anyone who’d had anything to do with that family. Especially not some woman with the name of a burlesque dancer and less than stellar marks. No, if I wanted to get any kind of architectural career, I was going to have to leave the country. Hence the internship.
Stop being such a baby and suck it up.
My gut clenched tighter.
I was going to have to accept working for Xander as the price of getting what I wanted, wasn’t I?
Great.
‘Well?’ Mum was looking at me in the mirror now. ‘Why are you looking like that? There is an easier way and you know it.’
Yes. By attaching myself to a man and letting him do things for me. I hated the thought. That might have worked for my mother, but I’d never wanted it for myself. I’d wanted to do things my way, using the things I was good at, such as drawing and design, not because I happened to be beautiful and good at giving head.
At that moment my phone started buzzing in my pocket. Weird—who’d be calling me? I had a few friends, but they only ever texted.
Digging the phone out, I slid off Mum’s bed and went into the hallway, ignoring her frowning after me. The call was from a number I didn’t recognise, which instantly made me suspicious. Hopefully it wouldn’t be the debt collectors already.
I hit answer anyway. ‘Hello?’
‘Poppy.’ The voice was deep, dark and cold, scraping deliciously over my nerve-endings, making me shiver helplessly and sending my heartbeat into the stratosphere.
‘Xander?’ I couldn’t quite believe it was him calling, but it was; I’d recognise that voice anywhere. ‘Wh-What the hell do you want?’ Hating the sound of my stutter, I moved into the tiny lounge of the apartment and went over to the big sliding window that let out onto the even tinier balcony. It was hot outside but Mum had bat ears and I didn’t want her overhearing.
There was a pause down the other end of the line.
‘I wanted to reiterate that the job offer is still open,’ he said at last.
Well, that was unexpected.
I pulled shut the sliding window then leaned back against the hot glass. ‘So, after backing me against a door and intimidating the hell out of me, you’re saying you still want to employ me?’
Another pause, even longer that time.
‘Yes. I was...out of line.’
I blinked in surprise, staring at the dusty expanse of cheap infill housing laid out beneath the balcony, but not seeing the ugliness of it this time.
‘Please don’t tell me this is an apology.’ I couldn’t quite keep the shock from my voice.
‘All right, I won’t tell you,’ he said stiffly. ‘But I lost my temper back there and I shouldn’t have done what I did.’
Holy shit. It was an apology.
For a second I didn’t know what to say. But I was saved from having to, because he kept on talking. ‘Still, I don’t take manipulation well, and I didn’t like you using a private promise to get me to do what you wanted.’
Ah yes, that.
A little wash of shame went through me. Okay, I shouldn’t have used that to get what I wanted, not when it was something my mother might have done, but...well... I’d been angry and frustrated, and not thinking straight. Which was totally his fault.
Really? His fault?
‘How was I to know that was important to you?’ I said defensively, ignoring the thought. ‘But...’ I took a breath, then forced the rest of the words out ‘... I guess I shouldn’t have said it.’
An awkward silence fell.
I gripped the phone tightly. If he wanted anything more from me, he was shit out of luck. That was as far as I was prepared to go.
‘Does that mean you’ll take the job?’ he asked finally.
I didn’t want to. I really didn’t want to.
‘What’s the salary?’ I tried to make it sound like a question and not a demand.
Another pause. Then he named a sum that nearly made my eyes pop out of my head. Jesus, that much for answering phones and getting coffee? Really?
‘That’s...’ I cleared my throat ‘...not bad.’
‘Are you going to take it? Yes or no?’
I closed my eyes against the bright sun, trying to ignore the feeling of foreboding that curled inside me, along with an excitement I didn’t want to acknowledge.
‘I’ll think about it,’ I said, unable to help digging at him a little.
‘No, you won’t think about it.’ His voice was flat. ‘I need an answer now.’
A shiver snaked down my spine at the demand in his tone.
Oh, God, why did I like that?
‘Fine.’ I tried to sound casual. ‘I’ll take it. I guess it won’t be—’
‘You start at eight-thirty tomorrow morning,’ he interrupted. ‘Don’t be late.’
Then he ended the call before I could say a word.
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