She froze. Could she do this? She w
asn’t sexually adventurous. A prude, her friends had called her. In all her twenty-six years of her life, she had only slept with one man—her high-school boyfriend. And it hadn’t been as exciting as her friends had clamoured about, either. Sex was highly overrated.
Anna sucked in her breath and answered bravely. “Y-yes.”
“Are you sure?” Justin asked again. Maybe he’d noticed the hesitation in her voice.
Anna made up her mind. “I need this job, Mr. Martel.” And that formula. She then realised something that made her self-confidence slide down a few notches. “But I suppose you’d be looking for a pretty girl for this position.”
“Now, now. Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself?”
Justin’s answer surprised her.
“We’re looking for a certain quality in our candidate,” he continued.
“What kind of quality?”
“Would you like to take the test?”
Anna couldn’t imagine what kind of test these men had in mind. Knowing their infamous reputation, she was sure it wouldn’t involve algebra or world history. The Martels were notorious players. And being the walking, talking, wet dreams they were, any woman they set their eyes on was rumoured to fall easily into their bed.
“Y-yes,” she answered.
Justin contemplated for a second. “Ralph?”
Raphael winked. “I’ll get Matt.” He went out and came back a few minutes later.
Anna slipped into uneasiness when she caught Matt’s eyes. He was absolutely different than his flirtatious brothers. Her first impression about him was that this man was dangerous. His hawk-like stare seemed to penetrate her deepest soul and expose what she really was. A sliver of panic started to creep into her mind. Could he see through her deception? The very reason she strayed into these sex fiends’ lair?
Matt sauntered behind his brother’s desk and folded his arms in front of his chest. Like Justin, he was also dressed in an impeccably neat business suit. But there was a warrior aura plastered all over him. He had this lush, raven hair that was so long, it draped over his shoulders, behind his back, and stopped just below his elbows. If he traded his suit with leather pants and a broadsword, he would look like the stereotypical barbarians from the cheesy romance covers.
“This is Miss Anna Vincent and she wants to take the test. What do you think, Matt?” Justin asked his opinion.
“Frumpy.”
Goddamn. That man wouldn’t make his future wife happy if he couldn’t tell a little white lie.
Matt came to her side. “What’s up with these glasses?” He plucked them off her nose before she could shout a protest.
“I-I can’t see well without my glasses.”
“Get contacts.” Matt’s eyes narrowed as he examined her clothes. “Are you a librarian?”
“N-no.”
“A school teacher?”
“No.”
“A government worker?”
“No.” Irritation sliced through her. “What is this all about?”
“You have a terrible sense of fashion.”
Figures. She’d momentarily forgotten whom she was speaking to. Not everybody could afford the Martels’ two-thousand-dollar women’s suits. Hers came from a discount store and that was the only thing she could afford.
“Take your clothes off,” Matt ordered.