‘I don’t think—’
‘Like now, for instance, when I say if you want to be hired, you’ll let me finish speaking before you give in to the urge to interrupt.’
She swallowed hard against the urge to tell him to go to hell and reminded herself why she needed this commission. Practising a woefully inadequate restorative breathing exercise, she forced out a nod.
‘Second, are we agreed on the extreme confidentiality of this deal?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, no more phone calls to Grandma.’
Heat rushed up her neck. ‘No more phone calls to Grandma.’
‘Good. You’ll work from here in my office, full time, until this deal is done.’
‘I thought I’d be working alongside your own PR team.’
‘They’ll be brought in when extra support is needed. Don’t worry, you’ll be adequately compensated.’
Not seeing any way around that bar refusing, she pressed her lips together and nodded.
‘Was that a yes, Miss Jameson? If so, I prefer to hear the word, so there’s no misunderstanding.’
She gritted her teeth. ‘Yes. It was a yes.’
‘Perfect. You’ll start today. Right now. Margo will escort you to HR and you’ll sign the requisite confidentiality papers. If you need lunch, let her know and she’ll organise something for you.’
‘I’m quite capable of getting my own lunch.’
‘This is one of those instances where wasting time on a matter will be considered a breach of your work rules.’
Shock widened her eyes. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Lunch, unless you have specific dietary requirements, is lunch, Miss Jameson. Wasting time arguing about who gets you lunch is counterproductive.’
‘I... Are you serious?’ she asked, unsure whether to be grossly offended or mildly hysterical.
He jerked his head to a connecting door at the far side of the room. ‘There’s a Michelin-starred chef employed to prepare and serve whatever dish you desire to my personal dining room. All you need to do is ask.’
Elise was aware the scenario he’d just described would be most professionals’ idea of a dream perk. Certainly, her parents would relish the chance to laud such a privilege over their competitors and brag about it to clients.
‘I have simple tastes, Mr Aguilar. A sandwich from a bistro is perfectly adequate for me. Besides, taking a few minutes away from the office to walk to said bistro helps my cogitative process.’ She took a breath. ‘But I concede that you’re under time pressures. If the chef isn’t offended by making me a sandwich, then I’ll be happy to eat in your dining room.’
Another hard non-smile twitched his sculpted lips. ‘I do believe you’ve just jumped again, Miss Jameson. Although in a puzzlingly overcomplicated way.’ He nodded at his door. ‘Don’t keep Margo waiting.’
Elise forced fists that had unconsciously curled to loosen. She stared at him as he resumed his seat...his throne...and carried on ruling his kingdom as if he hadn’t just swatted her away like an annoying fly.
‘Is there something about me that rubs you the wrong way, Mr Aguilar?’ she asked, suppressing the part of her that questioned her compulsive need to go head to head with him. She reassured herself it was because she didn’t want to be caught by a horribly unpleasant surprise further down the line, the way she had last year. If something swirled beneath Alejandro’s forbidding mask, she preferred to uncover it sooner rather than later.
He scrutinised her from head to toe, then back again. Slower. More intensely. Until her whole body tingled from the penetrative stare.
‘Are you about to start another argument with me?’ he enquired silkily.
She shook her head but stood her ground. ‘No. But if there happens to be something bothering you about me, I think we need to address it now, before...’ She stopped, unwilling to bring the ugly past to this discussion.
One brow lifted. ‘Before?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t like surprises, Mr Aguilar. I like working in a fraught environment even less.’