Falling For My Billionaire Boss

Chapter 4: The Interview From Hell

The fresh black shirt was sitting on Ms. Reid's arm.

Sloane was still standing in the middle of the puddle, clutching her soaked file to her chest like it was armor. Her cheap white blouse was transparent where the coffee had stained it. Her hair was sticking to her neck. Her flats were making a small squelching sound every time she shifted her weight.

Lennox didn't look at her. He took the shirt from Ms. Reid with one hand and the towel with the other.

"Leave us," he said to Ms. Reid. His voice was low.

Ms. Reid looked at Sloane, then at the shattered ceramic pieces on the floor, then back at her boss whose white shirt was completely brown. She didn't say a word. She just dropped the mop by the door and walked out, closing the door softly behind her.

Now it was just them. Again.

And the smell of coffee was everywhere.

Sloane immediately turned her back to him. Fast. Her face was burning.

"I'm not looking, I'm not looking!"

Lennox let out a short, annoyed breath behind her.

"Miss Hart, I have seen worse in a boardroom. Turn around."

She didn't. She kept her back turned, her shoulders shaking a little.

"I said turn around. I need to change."

"You can go to the bathroom to change!" she blurted out, still facing the wall.

"My office has a bathroom, but I am not going to walk through my own office half naked because an intern can't hold a file properly."

He was unbuttoning his shirt. Sloane could hear the wet fabric peeling off his skin. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

A second later —

"Done. You can look now."

Sloane turned slowly.

He was now wearing a fresh black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was a little messy from where he had wiped his neck with the towel. The black shirt stretched over his chest and shoulders. He looked even more dangerous in black than he did in white. The veins on his forearms were standing out.

He threw the wet, brown-stained white shirt into the trash bin like it was nothing. $10,000. Gone.

Sloane stared at the bin.

"That... you just threw it away?"

"It can feed you for a year, remember? But it can't be worn after coffee." He sat down in his huge leather chair behind his desk, like nothing had happened. He gestured to the small chair in front of his desk. "Sit. The interview starts now. And it already started hellish, so let's see if you can save it."

Sloane shuffled to the chair, her wet socks leaving faint prints on his expensive carpet. She sat on the very edge, still holding her file. Her hands were white from gripping it so hard.

Lennox opened her CV — the slightly coffee-stained one. He didn't even look disgusted. He looked bored.

"Sloane Hart. 24. NYU. GPA 3.9. You worked for Vice President Callahan for two years. Why did you leave?"

"Family emergency," she said quietly. The same lie as on the paper.

He looked up from the paper, his grey eyes locking onto hers. "That's not an answer. That's a headline. I asked why."

Sloane swallowed. "My... my availability changed. I had to be somewhere else."

"Somewhere else being Queens?"

"Yes."

He leaned back in his chair. He was studying her. Not her CV anymore. Her.

"You are wearing a blouse that costs $20 to an interview for a job that pays $85,000 a year plus bonus. You arrived 40 minutes early. You waited in the lobby sitting down. You clutch that file like someone will steal it." He tapped his pen on the desk. "You are either extremely diligent, or extremely desperate. Which one is it?"

Sloane's hands tightened around the file. "I am diligent."

"Desperate people say they are diligent too."

The room went silent. The AC was humming loudly.

"Let's test diligent then." He stood up abruptly and walked around his desk. He stopped right behind her chair. Too close. She could smell his cologne now, mixed faintly with coffee. Something expensive and dark.

"My last assistant lasted three weeks. She cried in the bathroom every day. My assistant before her lasted two months. She tried to kiss me in the elevator. The one before her tried to steal company secrets."

Sloane froze. She could feel his presence right behind her.

"So tell me, Miss Hart, why should I hire you?"

She took a deep breath. "Because I don't cry at work. And I don't kiss bosses in elevators. And I don't steal."

A small, almost invisible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He leaned down slightly, his hands resting on the backrest of her chair, one on each side of her. Caging her in.

"You don't? Are you sure?"

His voice was right near her ear now. Low. Sloane's entire body went stiff. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure he could hear it. The black dress she saw on the cover? That wasn't her. She was in a see-through stained blouse and wet flats, and this billionaire was leaning over her chair like she was something interesting.

"I... I am sure," she whispered.

"Good." He didn't move away immediately. He stayed there for two more seconds, his eyes dropping to the way her hands were shaking on her file. Then he pushed off her chair and walked back to his desk like nothing happened.

He sat down.

"You start Monday. 7am sharp. Don't be late. Don't spill anything. Ms. Reid will send you the contract and the NDA. You will sign both before you step into this building again."

Sloane's head shot up. "What? I — I got the job?"

"Did I stutter?"

"But — you didn't even ask me any real interview questions! You didn't ask about my skills or —"

"Your file says you managed a Vice President's calendar for two years without a single scheduling conflict. That's skill enough. And you just cleaned my desk and floor without complaining after I insulted your entire wardrobe. That means you can handle me." He picked up his phone. "That's more than any of the last three could do."

Sloane stood up so fast her chair screeched. "85k? You said 85k plus bonus?"

"Plus health insurance. Full coverage. From day one."

Health insurance.

The words hit Sloane like a brick. Her knees almost buckled. Full coverage. From day one. Her mother. The surgery. The $50,000 in 72 hours...

"Thank you," she said, and this time she meant it. Tears were back in her eyes, but different ones. "Thank you, Mr. Grey."

"Don't thank me yet, Miss Hart. You will hate me by Tuesday."

He pressed the intercom. "Ms. Reid, get Miss Hart a new blouse from the boutique downstairs. And a pair of dry shoes. On the company card. And call maintenance for my carpet."

Sloane opened her mouth to protest.

Lennox cut her off, looking at her stained blouse one last time, then quickly looking away.

"Consider it your first bonus. You can't work for me looking like a wet kitten. Now get out of my office before you spill something else."

Sloane clutched her file, turned, and almost ran to the door. This time, she was careful not to slip.

Just as her hand touched the door handle —

"And Sloane?"

She turned.

His grey eyes were on her again, unreadable.

"Monday. 7am. Don't make me regret this."

She nodded, her heart pounding against her soaked blouse, and fled.