A Hand to Hold

Chapter three

~ Natalie

*

fidgeted nervously in my seat, smoothing out my blush-colored pencil skirt, before I checked my watch for the tenth time. The minutes crawled by as I sat in the lobby of Ó Ceallaigh Enterprises’ main lobby. I’d been so paranoid about missing my interview that I’d arrived half an hour too early.

*

Three days had passed since my abrupt departure from the diner. As promised, Trina had arranged an interview for me with Candace Fuller, the CEO’s current personal assistant. To say I was nervous was a vast understatement. Not only did I desperately want the job, but my life practically depended on it.

*

Over the past three days, I’d done a lot of research, not only on OCE but on the Irish billionaire himself. Ronan Ó Cealliagh was much more impressive as a business tycoon than a man. His father had originally started OCE by purchasing rundown properties in good areas, remodeling and upgrading, then reselling for a healthy profit. Over time, he used the profits to branch out. He bought and improved restaurants and clubs throughout the state, taking them from the brink of bankruptcy and breathing new life into them. In under two decades, he’d cultivated a healthy reputation as a savvy businessman. Once a place fell into the ownership of Patrick Ó Ceallaigh, it was bound to become a success.

*

When Patrick’s son took the helm at OCE a little over five years ago, he brilliantly compounded his father’s success. OCE became the gold standard in luxury travel as Ronan expanded the business across the globe, buying and upgrading hotels, country clubs, resorts, and even a cruise liner. The travel industry is where Ronan Ó Ceallaigh made his mark, as well as his billions. And rumor had it, he was currently working on acquiring a private jet company.

*

Working for OCE was sure to be a life-changing opportunity in more ways than one. My excitement manifested into nerves, and my nerves had my stomach turned upside down. I desperately needed to calm myself before walking into my interview. I’d scoped the place out when I first entered the lobby on the fortieth floor. Small sofas placed in a large rectangle invited guests to make themselves comfortable. The wall of windows far across from the elevators let in an abundance of natural light beneficial to the potted palms. Around the corner from the elevators a wide corridor led to additional offices as well as the restrooms.

*

Another comfort for visitors was the refreshment counter, complete with an expensive coffee maker, bowls of various snacks, and a glass pitcher of lemon water. In desperate need of easing my nerves, I stood to stretch my legs and approached the counter. I looked longingly at the coffee maker. Knowing caffeine consumption in my current state would be the opposite of helpful, I reached for the water instead. Cup in hand, I returned to my seat.

*

As I waited, more people wearing business attire trickled in. I watched as each one walked out of the elevator, crossed the room, spoke to the receptionist, and took a seat in the waiting area— the same as I had done. Over the next ten minutes, I’d been joined in the waiting area by four women and a man, whom I could only assume were also there to interview for Mr. Ó Ceallaigh’s personal assistant. As the youngest in the room by far, my nerves returned at full force.

*

I glanced at my watch yet again and saw I still had a few minutes before my appointment. So, I picked up my handbag and headed for the restroom. After completing my business and washing my hands, I gazed into my reflection and gave myself an inner pep talk. As I regurgitated everything Trina had been telling me over the past three days, I took comfort in knowing my biggest cheerleader was currently somewhere on the same floor.

*

I exited the restroom, checking my blouse was neatly tucked into my skirt. Not paying attention to where I was going, I collided straight into the muscled chest of a man a full foot taller than me. When I stumbled backward, his hands quickly reached out to steady me. “I am so sorry, sir,” I said automatically, looking up into the face of the man whose personal space I’d invaded.

*

Cobalt-blue eyes locked on mine. His features seemed vaguely familiar, but I was so overcome by his proximity I couldn’t place his identity. I hadn’t been held by, or even that close to, a man in over a year. And I’d never been in the presence of a man half as good-looking. If his creator had been Michelangelo, he would’ve been the Sistine Chapel.

*

I snapped out of my oogling and composed myself, taking a breath and a big step back. “Forgive me, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” I admitted shyly.

“That’s quite alright, no harm done,” he replied with a warm smile. I nearly melted where I stood. I’d never in my life been so affected by a male presence. Swooning was only done in Victorian romance fiction, not real life. Yet there I stood, practically drooling over serene eyes and a masculine physique.

*

I wrenched my gaze away, and we went our separate ways. But the moment I reclaimed my seat, it dawned on me why the man had looked so familiar. My mouth went dry at the sudden realization that I’d just gotten up close and personal with none other than Ronan Ó Ceallaigh— my potential boss.

*

Still reeling from my run-in with the Irish billionaire, I nearly didn’t hear my name called. I looked up to see a thirty-ish woman with perfectly straight, silky black hair, tanned skin, stunning hazel eyes, and a barely discernible baby bump. As I approached her, she held a hand out and said, “Hello, Ms. Norris. I’m Candace Fuller, and I’ll be conducting your interview today.”

“Please, call me Natalie,” I told her as I shook her hand.

“Right this way, Natalie.” I followed Candace past the redheaded receptionist, whom I could’ve sworn glared in my direction.

*

Candace led me through a door and into a large room with an L-shaped desk, two ivory club chairs, and, of course, another potted plant. The room also included a separate elevator intended for the CEO’s and his assistant’s exclusive use. I expected to stop there, but Candace continued through the opposite double doors. I followed her into a pristine, manly office with a stunning view of the city.

*

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Candace said when my jaw dropped.

“It really is,” was all I could think to say.

“Mr. Ó Ceallaigh is out for the day,” she informed me. “He’s offered the use of his office for interviews. This room is soundproof, and the receptionist can be a rather nosy gossip.” As she sat, she gestured to the opposite sofa and said, “Please have a seat.”

*

An open folder, containing what I recognized as my resumé, lay on the marble coffee table between us. “Katrina speaks very highly of you,” Candace said. “She claims you are the perfect person for this job.”

“I have to be honest,” I admitted, “Katrina is my best friend.”

“I see.”

“But if you know Katrina, you know she’d never put her reputation at risk just to help a friend. It’s true we’re close, but it’s also true she never says anything she doesn’t mean.” Candace smiled and said, “Yes, I know. You’re very fortunate to have someone go to bat for you.”

“I am.”

“So,” she began, skimming my folder, “what motivated you to complete a four-year degree a year early?”

~~~

During my interview, Candace asked all the typical questions, as well as a few unexpected ones. She asked a little about my background, touching briefly on my childhood. I answered as best I could, hoping my discomfort didn’t show. Only Trina knew the details of my early years, and I intended to keep it that way.

*

“Thank you, Natalie,” Candace said when the interview ended, and we both stood. “It was a pleasure chatting with you today.”

“The pleasure was mine,” I replied, having genuinely enjoyed our discussion. “I’m happy to say you’ve made my shortlist. I think you’d be a great fit for him.” Candace smiled at me as if she knew a secret I didn’t. “I still have a few more interviews to conduct, and obviously Mr. Ó Ceallaigh will have to approve my selection, but either way, you’ll be hearing from me.”

“I appreciate it,” I responded as I shook her hand.

*

I left the OCE offices with a good feeling about my future. For the first time in a long while, I was excited about the possibilities that lay ahead. I knew one thing for sure; if I did get the job, I would have to make myself forget the heart-pumping sensation of Ronan Ó Ceallaigh’s hands on my body. But something told me the chances of succeeding were slim.

~~*~~

~ Ronan

*

Beyond tired and running on fumes, I made my way out of the building where I’d just wrapped up my last meeting. At my approach, my driver opened the back door to my Rolls Royce Phantom. I’d challenge anyone to find a more comfortable car. Considering my specialty was in luxury, the car was as much a necessity to my image as it was a guilty pleasure.

*

Upon sliding into the lavish backseat, I let out a long exhale and leaned my head back as my eyes fell closed. “Home, Mr. Ó Ceallaigh?” my driver asked optimistically. Without opening my eyes, I laughed softly and replied, “What do you think, Harrison?”

“I think you’ve worked many long nights lately and are in need of some well-deserved rest.”

“Maybe tomorrow. To the office, please, Harrison.”

“Yes, boss.”

*

I dozed as the car made its way through the city. My mind lingered on the image of the fair-haired beauty who’d bumped into me earlier that morning. I hadn’t a clue who she was nor what her purpose there had been, but her stunning features made an imprint on my memory. Her soft curls fell to her waist and tempted a touch. Her light-green eyes would no doubt be the star of my dreams for the next week at least. As the car drew nearer to my office, I mentally mused over the exact color of her irises. I’d endured enough remodels and seen enough paint samples to confidently say they were tea green, sort of a pastel pistachio. I’d never seen another set of eyes like them. Even in our brief interaction, I’d noticed the woman’s lack of artificial features. She wore little makeup, no false eyelashes, and no acrylic nails. Her hair seemed untouched by dyes, and even her chest appeared God-given. At least, it was too small to suspect augmentation. I’d always appreciated a woman’s natural shape. False breasts couldn’t compare to the real thing, in my humble opinion.

*

I let out a long sigh, knowing I’d have to put the unidentified beauty out of my mind. I was as good as a married man; I may as well start acting like one. At that very moment, my grandmother was in the process of assembling suitable options for my prospective bride. All I needed was a woman who wouldn’t drive me crazy for the rest of my life and wasn’t bothered by coming second to OCE.

*

I opened my eyes as Harrison pulled into the underground parking garage and glided past the security barrier. Once parked, he promptly opened my door, allowing me to step out. “Will it be another late night, boss?” he asked as I straightened my grey Armani suit.

“Yes, Harrison.”

“Very well, I’ll have your Mercedes delivered to your spot.”

*

Harrison had a wife and two small children. My personal experience with an absentee father led me to insist his workday end at a reasonable hour. Whenever I stayed late at the office, which was frequent, Harrison arranged for my AMG-GTR coupe to be parked in the garage; another guilty pleasure of mine.

*

I entered my private elevator and punched in the code, which granted direct access to my personal assistant’s office. With a soft ding, the doors opened, and Candice greeted, “I wondered if I’d be seeing you before I left,” as I stepped out of the elevator.

“I promised to check in with you,” I reminded as I walked past and entered my office.

*

Candace sat on the sofa facing the bookcases and waited as I shed my suit jacket and draped it over the back of my desk chair. Once I’d also removed my tie, I rummaged through the bottom drawer, withdrew two individually wrapped squares of Ghirardelli dark chocolate, and joined her in the sitting area. I tossed a chocolate onto her lap as I plopped down on the opposite sofa.

*

“What’ve you got?” I wanted to know, referring to the results of her interviews.

“I’ve narrowed the selection down to two,” she said, sliding a pair of folders across the coffee table. I licked chocolate from my fingers before flipping open the top folder. As I scanned the resumé, she said, “That’s my top choice. He has more experience and solid references.”

“Then why include a second option?” I asked, holding up the other folder. Candace shrugged and replied, “I just really liked her. She feels like a good fit for you.”

*

I opened the second folder and read through the credentials. When it came to the consideration of new hires, Candace knew my rule never to include photographs within their files. I sought to avoid being influenced by something as superficial as appearance. At my company, I made sure the best candidates were hired, regardless of what they looked like.

*

I compared the two resumes side by side before definitely stating, “Her.” I passed Candace my decision as I added with assurance, “She’s the one I want.”

“Why her? She doesn’t have any experience as a personal assistant.”

“Good, that means you can mold her to best suit my needs. And anyone who graduates a year early while finishing at the top of their class is the person I want working for me.”

“I thought the same,” she admitted with a smile.

*

“Alright,” Candace said as she stood, “I’ll give her a call before I head out.” As she reached the door, she turned to say, “Oh, by the way, Brigid called for you… twice. She’s expecting your call before you leave. I told her it could very well be after midnight, but she didn’t seem surprised.”

“Thanks, I’ll call her now.”

“Good, I don’t want to get on that woman’s bad side.”

“I don’t think that’s possible for you. Sometimes, I think she loves you more than me.”

“Of course she does. I don’t give her grey hairs.”

“White,” I corrected.

“What?” she asked puzzled.

“White hair. Redheads don’t go grey, they go white.”

“Whatever. You know what I meant. Goodnight, Ronan.”

“Goodnight, Candace.” Being the first friend I’d made in America after moving from Ireland as a boy, she was the singular employee in which I was on a first-name basis.

*

Once my PA had left and the room fell quiet, I crossed over to the drink cart in the corner and poured myself two fingers of the finest Irish whiskey money could buy. I had a feeling I’d need sustenance before conversing with my grandmother. I sat at my desk, picked up the phone, and pressed the speed dial. She answered on the second ring. “Hello, mo cuishle.”

“Móraí,” I replied.

“Are you still willing to do whatever necessary to retain ownership of OCE?”

“You know I am.”

“Good… because I’ve found you a wife.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~