My jaw almost grazed the floor.

This man was the 'Blackstone' of this company? As in the same guy from that gossip program on the radio a few weeks ago?

Jesus, no wonder he radiated dominance, no wonder he was intimidating, and no wonder I was so intrigued by him.

He had that kind of take-charge, no-bullshit attitude that I was attracted to but the way he was acting towards me so far was really putting me off my game.

I clasped my manicured fingers on my lap as I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows and suddenly felt like a child under his ever-watchful eye.

"Genevieve, where are you from?"

I turned and looked at him, "A small town outside of New Orleans, Louisiana, Sir. How'd you know I wasn't from here?"

He leaned back in his chair and smirked, "Because you had no idea who I was."

I tapped my nails against each other and felt small again, "Sorry, Sir. I actually just came to the city a few weeks ago."

Looking down at his papers for a few seconds, he then pushed his chair away and walked to the front of the desk before leaning against it and crossing his ankles.

"How old are you, Genevieve," he asked with his arms crossed over his chest, his tight sleeves accentuating the muscles there.

"I'm 22, Sir," I stated in a low voice and watched as his eyebrows rose a fraction.

Shit, I hope he doesn't think that just because I'm young that means I'm incompetent.

"You're a little young," he said, stating my fear before continuing, "You think you could keep up with my busy schedule?"

I could probably keep up with your schedule better than you could, honestly...

"I think so, Sir. I'm a really fast learner, I'm a hard worker, and I've got an exceptional work ethic," I stated, puffing my chest out in pride.

He smiled and then walked behind me and I heard a clinking sound coming from across the room a few seconds later.

"I took a look at your resume this morning before you got here and it's quite impressive, Genevieve. Party city girl goes to a college but drops out a year before she graduates? You were majoring in business. What happened to make you come all the way here," he asked and I was suddenly anxious as I felt like some sort of prey without the hunter in my line of sight.

I did all I could to keep my back to him but shut my eyes, digging my nails into the palms of my hands.

"Can I skip that question, Sir? It's a bit of a sore subject for me at the moment. Sorry," my voice lowered as the sentence finished.

He was silent for a moment but then I heard his footsteps at the back of the room again.

I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you, Sir?"

There was a pause and I started to think that he wouldn't answer but then I heard his deep voice call out, "35."

And I was taken aback. I remembered hearing that he inherited this branch of the company when he turned 30 but he was still so young, "A whole branch of a company at the young age of 35? I couldn't even begin to imagine all you've had to sacrifice to be this successful."

He came to sit beside me in the chair to my left and studied me for a moment while taking a sip of an amber-colored liquor.

It seemed a little early in the day to be drinking already, but I could only assume the stresses this job held. One drink would be fine for a man of his size, though. It probably wouldn't even affect him.

"You don't think I'm too old," he suddenly asked, catching me off guard.

I looked into his eyes, searching, surely he couldn't mean... I looked at the hand in his lap and found it absent of any rings but that didn't mean he still wasn't spoken for.

"Too old for...," I let the question ask itself.

He smiled, cleared his throat, and then took another sip, "Nothing. So you would like to be my personal assistant? You'd work when I'm working, fetch my paperwork, lunch, drinks if I so chose. You'd take my phone calls and be in charge of organizing my schedule. You'd accompany me on any business trips or lunches I take whether it be near or far. Would your boyfriend be okay with this?"

'That was so blatant.'

"I don't have a boyfriend, Sir. I actually live alone, so all of that would be fine with me. I really appreciate you even giving me a chance at an interview."

"Alright, Genevieve," he stood up and I took it as I should as well.

We were almost chest to chest or rather, head to neck as I had to look up at him.

I started to back up but forgot that there was a chair behind me so I began to fall back. He was quick to reach out and catch me with an arm around my waist and one around my shoulder.

My right hand clung to his side and my left to his bicep and if I didn't feel like this interview was a little personal before, I certainly did now.

Our faces were far closer than they should be for an appropriate interview. I felt my face flush again and noticed that he hadn't let go yet.

I looked into his dark honey-colored eyes and let a shallow breath escape my lips. What it would be like if he just leaned down a little bit...

He looked down at me for a few seconds more and then finally stepped back, allowing me to right myself as I tried to regain what composure--and dignity--I had left.

I just wondered what it would be like to kiss him...to kiss my 35-year-old maybe-boss who I was almost certain saw me as a klutzy, stuttering young girl.

"Well, it would seem from your resume that you are more than qualified for this job. I would be an idiot if I didn't hire you. So, I'll see you tomorrow at seven, Genevieve," he said, his face was void of any emotion.

I looked up at him once more, "Thank you so much. And yes, Sir. I'll be here," I breathed out.

And as I walked out of the room and into the entryway, I stopped to look at my reflection in the mirror.

My face was flushed and my hair was a bit frizzy at the part, but other than that I still saw the same girl who had no idea what today would have had in store for her...or what this city would have in store for her.

But I surely didn't think I would meet the most intense man in the world.