"I see," I said. "So you're satisfied with mediocrity? Thank you very much for your time, Mr Reeves."
Becky assured me the next candidate was perfect, but I couldn't hear her over my disinterested yawn.
I could at least agree that the next candidate had a perfect butt. The ice clinked in my glass as I swirled my third whiskey and admired the view. I had asked the candidate to write out a mock schedule for my day on the electronic whiteboard at the opposite side of the room. Her voice droned on like an old A/C unit, but it was easy enough to block out with the way her tight pencil skirt moulded her perky ass.
"So, yeah," she said, turning around. "That's it, really. I think I can do a fantastic job for you, Mr O'Sullivan."
I nodded and bridged my fingers, elbows resting on the edge of the conference table.
"Hmm, not bad, Ms…"
"Hamilton."
"Not bad, Ms Hamilton," I said with a smile that made Becky perk up expectantly from where she had been slouching despondently. "But I see a few holes in the schedule that I'd like you to maximise."
Ms Hamilton looked over her shoulder at the very thorough schedule she'd written out.
"Okay, well…"
"At noon, for instance," I said.
Ms Hamilton turned around and placed her pen at the lunch slot.
"Sure, I guess we could fit in another meeting with—"
"Did I say noon?" I laughed in a friendly, light-hearted way. "Silly me, I meant ten."
Ms Hamilton stretched her arm a little higher and as she did so, the hem of her skirt rose a little higher as well.
Becky must have noticed as well, because her attention turned toward me and she narrowed her eyes in suspicion as Ms Hamilton blah blah-ed on, "I have a break here at 10:15, but if you—"
"Ms Hamilton," I interrupted. "To be honest, I see the most glaring issue at more like eight."
The girl glanced over her shoulder at me, uncertain. I nodded toward the board as I reached for the whiskey bottle again. Becky sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Eight," I repeated. "Yeah, there you go."
I grinned as Ms Hamilton stretched up toward the top of the schedule, her skirt riding higher and higher on her full ass.
"Maybe we can even discuss scheduling something at 6 a.m.?" I asked.
"It's a little high up to reach," Ms Hamilton said with a nervous bit of laughter.
My voice was dark and cold as I said, "Try."
Buzzkill Becky ruined everything before I could catch a peek of the bottom curve of the girl's ass when she shoved back her chair and moved between her and me.
"Thank you very much for your time, Ms Hamilton," Becky said, guiding the confused girl out of the room. "We'll be in touch soon."
"No, we won't," I grumbled over the lip of another whiskey.
When Becky returned, I smiled wickedly and asked, "So who's next?"
Becky gave a tired sigh and then flipped around her clipboard of resumes: it was empty.
"That was the last candidate, Mr O'Sullivan," she informed me.
I dismissed her with a bored wave of my hand. "I'm sure there is one qualified personal assistant in this city."
Becky's nails tapped along the plastic edge of her clipboard. "Maybe there is someone that you have in mind?" she asked.
My eyes shifted slowly toward her. "I'm sure there is one qualified director of HR in this city, Becky. Maybe you can find her and she can find me a halfway decent personal assistant."
I watched her face pale and she quickly lowered her chin. "I'll have some fresh candidates for you to meet tomorrow morning, sir."
I winked at her and spun my chair around to face the afternoon storm clouds rolling over the mountains. "I knew I could count on you."
She left, leaving me alone in the conference room with my whiskey and bad mood. How dare she imply that I was thinking of someone in particular? There were legitimate reasons to refuse each of these candidates. Even if that was absolute bullshit, which it wasn't, she needed to know her goddamn place. I was the conqueror taking over her king's castle.
I angrily snatched up the bottle of whiskey and shoved away the glass, now just a pesky, unnecessary middleman. The mouth of the bottle went straight to my lips and I welcomed the burn in my throat.
All I wanted was a personal assistant who could help me finish up this merger as soon as possible so I get back on a plane, get back to Dublin, and get back to my normal life as soon as possible. That was it. That was all I wanted. Why was that so hard to understand?
I took another angry swig. Who did she even think I was thinking of? Abbi? I scoffed. Hell no. Fuck no. She hadn't even crossed my mind. Not that afternoon, not that morning, not the whole goddamn night before. She was the farthest thing from my mind. The farthest.
I drank and drank and kept drinking. I didn't want to see Abbi. I didn't. I—
With a shout of frustration, I wrenched the telecom system from the centre of the conference table and dialled HR.
"This is Patty."
"Becky, bring back the old chick."
"Ms Miller?"
"I don't know what her name is," I lied. "Bring her back. I don't have time to waste finding someone else."
"Yes, sir."
I glared at the black telecom system. "That's the only reason, Becky," I said, slurring slightly. "The only reason I'm letting her back is because I'm not going to waste more time finding someone else."
"Yes, sir. I'll make the call, Mr O'Sullivan."
I hung up and spent the rest of the afternoon
