Only You (Sweet Torment 2)

“Bye, Mom.”

I hung up the phone and took a deep swallow of my wine. Life was crashing and my options grew bleaker by the hour. I picked up my cell once more and dialed Roman. When he answered, I said one thing.

“If the job opportunity with your friend is still available, I’d like to take the interview.”

Chapter Four

I swallowed hard because, Jesus Christ, this place was massive. Roman had given me a few details about the guy I was to interview with. He was in shipping, overseeing the importing and exporting of high-end products. Judging by the massive red brick mansion, complete with white pillars and two staircases to the entrance, he was on Onassis level.

The property was huge, with rolling hills in the distance and a dense forest to the east. Several other brick structures matching the main house were scattered around and looked to be either living areas or other office buildings. This was a compound of wealth. And here I had thought fitting in with the big players of politics had been hard.

Glancing at my heels from last season, ones I had gotten on clearance, I felt the typical nervousness I always got when entering an environment I was socially not classy enough for.

It was a fight on a daily basis to prove I could fit into this kind of world with these kinds of people. The kind who ran the world and had money and power. Things I didn’t have. But I wanted to be something. Wanted that “more” factor. Not in wealth, but in reputation. I wanted to be somebody . . . somebody worth acknowledging.

I stepped along the marble floors into the main entrance of the mansion. Though it was a house, at least partly, there was a grand desk in the foyer and a slight man who appeared to be in his sixties sitting behind it.

“Hello, I am Paige Levine. I have an appointment with Stephen Hamilton.”

Roman had said Mr. Hamilton was the head of the HR department. Talking directly to the person in charge of the hiring would be nice.

“Yes, ah, Miss Levine,” the older man said, and stood somewhat shakily. “Follow me.”

He started walking up the massive staircase that wrapped around to a large, mahogany door. He gave a small knock, then opened the door a sliver.

“He’s expecting you,” the older man said, and started his slow descent down the stairs.

Squaring my shoulders, I gave a final once-over of my hair and skirt. White, button-up blouse tucked into my black pencil skirt was my best professional outfit. Simple, but it made me feel powerful, which was something I needed, since my attempts to tamp down the growing nervousness in my gut were coming up short.

This was my last option. I was out of time, money, and a place to live. If this didn’t work . . .

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

This would work.

I wouldn’t leave this meeting until it did. There was one thing I had in spades, and that was ambition. I always went for it.

I told Amy once that power respects power and that was how I’d lived my life since leaving Indiana. It was how I would continue to live it. I vowed when I was younger to do everything I could to never be weak and desperate again. Ever.

Holding my head high, I walked into the room.

The massive oak desk sat dead center and a wall of windows was behind it, looking out onto acres and acres of land. I had been in the governor’s office many times, and this rivaled it. Power and masculinity dripped from every fixture, from the floor-to-ceiling bookcases to the rich leather chairs and brass fixtures.

“Miss Levine?” A man’s head showed over the top of a tall chair facing away from me. He swiveled around as I answered.

“Yes, sir—” But my words drowned in shock when I saw his face. “Leo?”

Dressed in a blue button up, undone at the collar, black vest, and pants, the man oozed sexy corporate male model, and oh my God, he was even more gorgeous than I remembered.

“I . . . you?” I said.

No words seemed to match the questions racing through my head. His thick black hair was combed to perfection and those searing blue eyes were like a hurricane coming at me with intensity.

He sat back in his chair and grinned.

“It is me.” He held open his arms. “The man you left at the bar last week.”

My mouth dropped open, but I snapped it shut quickly. I needed to regain my composure. I was a professional after all.