Hustler

Chapter 1

By the time we had interviewed five of the applicants and they'd all turned out to be disappointments I figured it was time to put an end to it.

I wanted to wring my hair in frustration.

Instead, I told the rest of the panel that we'd have a coffee break.

I strode out of the boardroom where we had been reviewing the applicants for our social media campaign position and stopped at Rosie's desk.

"I'm going to The Little Cuppa - do you want anything?"

Rosie looked up and smiled. "I'm good, thanks. But shouldn't it be the other way around? I'm the assistant and you're the boss."

She looked ready to jump out of her chair to get me coffee.

"Believe me, I need the breather," I told her.

"That bad?" She looked sympathetically in the direction I'd come from.

I nodded. "It's a social media position and one of the applicants told me that he was loathe to go on social media, but he would do it if he had to. Why did he even apply for this position? That is the single most important criteria." I blew out a heavy breath and tried to get a handle on my frustration.

I wanted to blow a fuse.

I wasn't angry at having to listen to shit applicants, per se. I was angry at the waste of resources this was costing my company to have a panel of three listen to interviewees tell us how unfit they were for the job. With each interview at least an hour long, I'd lost five productive hours of my day.

The worst part was that they looked so good on paper. Their applications had been cleared by a wider selection panel ahead of time.

Even when we knew the interview was going south, we couldn't pull out. We needed to give each person procedural fairness otherwise there would be repercussions for my company. I'd heard enough horror stories of CEO's dismissing people from interviews after the first few minutes and then later being smacked by a hefty lawsuit.

"Fucking shit," I muttered under my breath as I walked to The Little Cuppa.

The Little Cuppa was a quaint coffee shop with exposed ceilings and wooden décor. All the employees had either unusual piercings or dreadlocks, but the service was efficient and the coffee was adequate so I couldn't care less what they looked like.

The line moved quickly. Jenna greeted me with a smile, the motion pulling up her lip piercings. "The regular Miss Sparks?"

"Yes, that would be lovely, Jenna." I scanned my card and delighted in this small ritual where at least one person would smile at me as we exchanged money.

Usually, it was me smiling and the other person looking as if they had to prepare their burial site right where they were standing.

What can I say? I drive a hard bargain.

I stood to the side and waited for my soy cappuccino. I pulled out my phone and reviewed my schedule. The last interview for today was in half an hour, I had an 11 am meeting tomorrow that I still needed to prepare for and a black-tie function at the Morley mansion starting tomorrow night at 7 pm.

My gut tightened at the thought of being at the Morley mansion. I knew exactly who would be there - my good for nothing billionaire ex Roger Davidson.

Jerk. Asshole.

I insulted him in my head for fun, to remind myself of why long-term relationships were such a fucking waste of time.

I knew that being bitter toward your ex was a waste of energy. But it was still a sore spot, even though I broke it off with him, I looked weaker coming out of the situation. He'd quickly moved on to marry one of the women he'd cheated on me with. I recognised her in the magazine from the photos the anonymous texter had sent me.