Ruby throws her hands up.
“Oh my God, Mag. She was sitting on a public bench. She was right to tell you where to go. I would have too. I wish the cops had shown up and given you an earful. You can’t just chase people off of city property even if you are Magnus Heron.”
I grin at her. “I can. I did.”
She turns away from me and steps closer to the door, flashing a disgusted look.
“Whatever. But the one thing you can’t do is bully anyone onto your payroll.” She turns, giving me an annoyed glance. “I’m not just here to fill positions, you know. I’m also saving your ass from making moves that could tank this whole company.”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“To call a twenty-three-year-old with barely any corporate experience and invite her to interview for a position she’s completely unqualified for. Where else?”
“How do you know she’s unqualified again? You’re being biased under your own HR rules. You haven’t even talked to her yet, and you already know she isn’t competent!” I call after her.
Ruby scowls at me. “I didn’t call the girl incompetent. I said unqualified. When I’m looking for an EA for you, I don’t interview people with less than ten years experience, a damn good cover letter, and multiple verifiable references. I interview assistants for the rest of your C-level team with five years of experience, and also, you’re biased. You’ve decided to give her a job because...she spit on you.”
“Don’t forget the nice ass,” I say, just to tease her.
“You’re a horrible, horrible man. And nothing about spitting says she handles pressure well, you know. Some of your clients are right next to you in the Genghis Khan department, maybe even worse. Are you okay with her spitting on them too?” Ruby asks.
“I deal with the clients.”
Ruby rolls her eyes. “Right, and your assistant never has to.”
“She may, but I’ll always be present in those meetings at least for the first six months. I’ll keep it controlled and teach her how to deal with their nuances before I’d ever send her off alone.”
Ruby laughs. More than a snicker, breaking into a holding-her-sides-in belly-busting giggle.
“What?”
“She won’t survive six months. You’ve had one assistant fall just short of that mark in all these years, and it wasn’t a twenty-three-year-old with some Photoshop experience and a Fine Arts degree.” She opens the door, beyond ready to walk out.
“Ruby.” I almost forgot there’s something else I need to tell her.
“What?” she asks.
“Contact the casting company we used for today’s promo shoot and tell them not to send that model again. Sylvia whatever-her-face.”
She raises an eyebrow. “The shoot went okay, right? Hugo didn’t mention anything going wrong with the campaign.”
“Her work was fine, but...she hit on me. Several times.”
“That’s it?” Ruby laughs. “Oh my God, you can’t spend two hours a day in the gym and blame a woman for being human.”
“She touched me in front of the whole crew.” I shake my head.
“The horror!” She slaps her cheek and gazes at me in mock-revulsion.
“It’s too much. You know why I don’t need those antics around here, and I prefer to pay people who focus on work. I hire professionals and I expect the same quality from our contractors.”
“Right. Professionals.” She walks out. “Just like the girl who glazed your shoes...”
The door shuts before I can quip back.
Typical Ruby.
What a bizarre day. I never should’ve allowed the schedule to become so crunched that we were desperate to shoot before dusk, but managing the workload with no assistant has been rough the past few weeks.
Rash decisions aren’t my habit. It’s unlike me to randomly hire someone off the streets.
Maybe Ruby’s right, and I’m making a blinding mistake. It can’t hurt to bring her in for an interview, though. If we see red flags, we can always hit the brakes.
One thing I can say for certain, no human being has ever spit on me before, and I don’t know why I can’t get that out of my head. I fucking need to.
Checking my schedule, I’m relieved to see no crucial meetings in the next few hours.
I kick my shoes off, put them away, strip out of my suit, hang it in the closet, and change into sweats before I hit the company weight room. Lifting heavy shit until I can’t should get that brunette medusa out of my head and whip my thoughts into shape.
If Sabrina Bristol is a walking, sassing, spitting mistake—notice I didn’t say one word about the fantastic ass—then I’ll figure it out before she’s one more cog in my well-oiled machine.3Punked! (Sabrina)The next day, Saturday the fourteenth, I hunker down in bed watching Schitt’s Creek—okay, it’s not the best show but I could use a laugh—when Paige comes in and flops down beside me.
“You can’t hide in here all day,” she says, throwing me a smile.