Rafael

Chapter 4 - I Forgot How Horrible Interviews Were

I just didn't think I could work with Rafael Montero.

He was such an infamous character.

I wasn't built for the crime life which I knew I would be unwittingly exposed to, you know, the perks of being the assistant of a smooth criminal.

"If you change your mind, here's my card," he responded, producing a sleek business card from his pocket.

"This is my phone number," he added, pressing the card into the palm of my hand.

I took it and read the information written in black on the bland, white, rectangular-shaped card.

'Gareth Laurier - Laurier Diamonds, 1-888-444-6672.'

Light bulb.

"That's where I know your name from!" I exclaimed.

"I'm wearing one of your necklaces right now," I grinned and showed him the pendant.

His eyes didn't leave my neck and I just knew he was thinking of various ungentlemanly situations involving my neck and his mouth.

"You have good taste," he remarked with a smirk.

"That I do."

Mel laughed at our exchange and then checked her watch.

"It's almost two, you ready to go?" She asked, yawning.

"Yep, it's late so why not."

"I'll see you guys around," Gareth said, helping me out of my seat.

"Of course," Mel replied with a toothy grin then she winked at me.

She totally wanted me to see him again.

I nodded in agreement.

"Great and you can call me anytime, not just about the interview," he flirted, taking my hand in his.

"I won't call you about the interview but I may call you about...other things," I replied coyly.

"Do you guys need a ride?" He asked before leaving.

"No, we drove here but thanks for the offer," I answered sheepishly.

I just met this guy tonight, I'm not dumb enough to get into a car with him.

What if he was secretly a serial killer?

Or worse...

A vampire!

Did you see the way he was looking at my neck?

Insane?

I know.

After we said our goodbyes, Mel and I headed outside after calling an Uber.

It was a very eventful night.

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"Ms. Milani, why should we give you this job?" The interviewer at Palm Computer Corporation asked me.

Because I need money.

Monday was already not looking promising.

I should've known this day would suck as soon as I woke up and found out that my phone hadn't been charging for the whole night.

I had twenty-five percent to work with for the whole day.

"I am a hard-working individual who will do everything in my power to ensure the success of your company," I told the man honestly.

"Anything?" The interviewer, who was not younger than seventy questioned impishly, wriggling his eyebrows at me.

What the hell?