Lovely Liaison - Book cover

Lovely Liaison

Mel Ryle

Fancy Meeting You Here

ZOEY

It was always uncomfortable, interviewing for a job when you already had one. It felt like I was cheating.

But I couldn’t stay at Vlashion.

Wouldn’t stay.

I needed a plan.

I ducked and dodged Mr. Daniels—he had a headache that was keeping him in his office, and I could not be happier.

I got out of the office at 10 a.m., dressed to impress, got in a taxi, and made my way to The Grand Hotel by 11:15 a.m.

The interview was still forty-five minutes away, but I was nervous and wasn’t going to risk running late.

I was wearing my light blue sheath dress: snug, with cap sleeves, it hugged all my curves in all the right places.

And the best part, the reason it was my interview standby: it had a golden zipper that ran all the way down the back. Talk about a dramatic exit.

Without being inappropriate, of course.

My grandmother’s pearl earrings for luck.

And my classic black heels brought it all together.

It was far posher than my usual workwear, but if I could land this job, it would be a miracle.

For two reasons.

Firstly, it would get me away from Daniels.

And secondly, it would be a fresh start in a company that I really respected, at least from the outside.

Still… Who was Rufus, and why did they want me?

I would find out soon.

It was a surprise to be returning so soon to The Grand Hotel. There were offices on the higher floors, but I didn’t really know who or what was up there.

There had never been a reason for me to explore the building, so I hadn’t even known Hawksley Enterprises had offices here until Rufus emailed me.

As I passed through the lobby, Amy caught my eye and gave me a thumbs up:

Good luck!

The elevator doors opened. I pressed “23,” and waited for the doors to shut.

I smoothed out my dress, checked my heels for smudges, glanced at my hair and my mascara.

How often do you get a chance to interview at a company like Hawksley Enterprises?

Finally, the doors began to close.

But before they could, a hand reached through to stop them.

JULIAN

I was running late, nothing too surprising there. If life had taught me anything up until that point, it was that people wait for you when your last name is Hawksley.

When your first name is Julian, however, the only thing people wonder is, “Do you spell it with an ‘A’ or an ‘E’”?

Breakfast with Jensen ran long, which always happened when I had to get something off my chest.

I’d been trying to open up more, to talk more.

Grace was beautiful, but sometimes we clashed so much and fought so hard, I couldn’t imagine dealing with that forever.

Not that I thought of myself as a “forever” type of guy, when “for now” was so often so much fun.

I saw the elevator doors closing and dashed over to get there before they shut.

I stuck my hand in the opening, and the sensors reopened the doors.

And who should I find in there? None other than—

“Zoey Curtis!” I said. Her jaw dropped at seeing me. I was used to this, I called it “The billionaire effect,” but Zoey was quick to cover her surprise.

Or to try to, anyway…

This will be fun, I thought to myself, and looked at the panel of elevator buttons. “Going up to twenty-three, eh? Me too. What’s up there for you?” I asked.

“You don’t know?”

“Why would I?”

“Well, is it a coincidence that we meet, you borrow my magazine, and then a couple hours later, I get an email for a job interview at your company?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences. So, no.”

“So…I’m not interviewing with you?”

I shrugged and made a face: No clue what you’re talking about.

“Who were you messaging with?” I asked.

“Rufus Fletcher,” she replied.

“Rufus! Good guy. You’ll love talking with him—a right proper gent! A British chap—although I’m sure you already knew that. Tip Number Eight: Do Your Research.” He smiled.

She looked confused. “What?”

“From your magazine. The job hunt tips.”

She nodded, remembering. “Right… Well, anything’s better than where I am now,” she replied.

I grimaced. “Oooh—uh, what happened to Tip Number Five? Never say anything bad about a previous employer?”

“He’s got to be a previous employer first, and I didn’t say he was the reason I want to leave,” she replied, crossing her arms. “You really remembered that article in detail.”

“Well…there’s a reason for that.” I shrugged. “Did you happen to notice who they asked for those top ten tips?”

She didn’t believe it at first, but I kept a calm face that eventually convinced her.

You were the one who wrote that list?”

I shrugged like it was no big deal and nodded.

Her jaw dropped practically to the floor. She was so much fun to toy with.

The elevator slowed to pick someone up on the fourth floor. I swiped my ID badge over a sensor, and the elevator skipped the stop and continued climbing.

She looked at me, a little judgy. “You know you’re holding people up when you do that?” she asked.

I froze...not wanting anyone else on the elevator, but not wanting to annoy Zoey too much.

Well, not wanting her to think I’m a total jerk, at least.

With a huff, I backed away from the buttons.

ZOEY

Wow. This guy…

He saw the judgment on my face and waved it off.

“Think about it: everyone who’s getting on an elevator going up is probably going to see someone on a higher floor, who’s probably their boss…right?”

“Okay…?”

“So, I’m buying them an extra minute before they have to see their boss... I’m doing them a favor. That’s what this is about—it’s a favor,” he smiled mischievously.

As if on cue, the elevator slowed again for another stop, this time on the ninth floor. And again, he swiped his badge and the elevator continued to rise.

I said, “Wow. A humanitarian.”

He winked. “Guilty. But keep it quiet, once you start letting people know, the phone never stops ringing.”

“I’ve got a bad boy edge to live up to,” he went on. “How else do I get women to give me a second look?”

I took the question as an invitation and ate him up with my eyes. He was sporting an Armani suit, minus a blazer or tie, and the top buttons of his shirt were open.

The day was hot, and he must have popped his collar open to let the warmth out.

If his neck was hot, he must have been hot all over…

With that, I realized my thoughts were running away from me in a dangerous direction.

“Is that still something you’re trying to do, get second looks from women? I knew you were a CEO… I didn’t know you were such a player.”

He smiled, seeming to enjoy being toyed with. “I bet you know who I am.”

“And you know who I am.”

What was I doing? Was I flirting? Was this flirting?

I’d been with Ben for three years and I felt like I’d forgotten how to do it.

But apparently, I was doing alright because Julian—ahem, Mr. Hawksley—smiled and nodded.

“Of course. Your name is Zoey Curtis. Zoey Curtis,” he said, making fun of my stammer when we met. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“This helps. I was worried I’d make an idiot out of myself here today, but I can see I already did that, so I can relax.”

“Definitely not an idiot,” he replied, quickly glancing me up and down. “Inquisitive, confident, punctual, and you’re totally pulling off Number Three with that outfit. Bet you’ll kill the interview.”

“How do you know I’m punctual?” I asked.

“Call it a hunch.” He just looked at me as the elevator made its quick way up to the twenty-third floor. I held his gaze, but it was a struggle.

Was I flirting? Was he?

Was a billionaire CEO flirting with me?

A gorgeous billionaire CEO…with a gorgeous supermodel girlfriend?

Don’t flatter yourself, Zoey.

The doors opened, and Mr. Hawksley stepped out first, turning back to me for a quick final word. “I’d wish you luck, but winners don’t need it. Go get ’em, winner.”

He winked and headed off down a hallway.

I stood there for a minute. My pulse was pounding as if I’d taken the stairs.

Sure, I was nervous and excited about the interview... but, honestly, Julian made me even more flustered.

My relationship with Ben definitely had fire, but I’d spent a lot of time in the cold while he was gone...

And talking with Julian got me incredibly hot.

I definitely needed to tell April and Amy about running into him a second time.

I wondered: if I got the job, would I have this type of casual run-in with Mr. Hawksley?

I stepped out of the elevator and approached the female receptionist. “Excuse me, I’m here for an interview, I’m looking for Rufus Fletcher’s office?”

She pointed behind her to a slightly open door.

I approached and peered into the office. There was a man at a standing desk: late forties, short hair, and an engineer’s focus.

The nameplate on the wall read “Rufus Fletcher: Executive Liaison to the CEO.” I knocked lightly on the door.

“Mr. Fletcher?” I asked.

“Yes?” he replied with a Londoner’s accent, not looking away from his screen.

“Mr. Fletcher, I’m Zoey Curtis, you contacted me about an interview?”

He turned and pulled his bifocals off his face. “Zoey! Rufus, pleasure to meet you, wonderful, welcome, come on in!” We shook hands.

“You’re a saint for working us into your schedule today, I apologize for the short notice. You’re definitely scoring points for flexibility. I’ll bet you had a mad morning, eh?”

“Glad to hear it. About the points. Uh, no, the morning wasn’t bad,” I lied.

I wasn’t sure if the interview had begun, and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

He held the door open to the conference room, “Right this way, Ms. Curtis. Do you prefer ‘Zoey’?”

“Zoey!” I heard the voice from the conference room before I saw the speaker, but my body responded by instantly cranking up the heat.

It wasn’t a fault in the air conditioning; the heat was coming from me. From between my legs.

I recognized the voice.

There, at the end of the conference table, building a house with business cards, was Julian!

“You made it!” he said. “And you’re even early—you’re off to a helluva good start!”

I was interviewing with Julian Hawksley.

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