Everlasting Hunger.

by Tawny Taylor.

Chapter One.

"Oh my G.o.d. Raine, listen to this. 'Rumors and speculation are flying around town about local billionaire Tryphon Zade. There's no law against being gay or bis.e.xual, or belonging to an underground bondage club, but-' Are you listening, Raine? 'When relations.h.i.+ps end because one partner turns up dead, then things get a little sticky-'"

"Haven't I told you to stop reading that stuff? It's junk food for the brain." Laughing, Raine Avery reached over and knocked the gossip rag out of Liz Emmet's hand.

Scrambling to recover the lost magazine from Raine's bedroom floor, her best friend sent Raine a squinty glare. "I'm just trying to protect you. This man-what kind of freaky name is Tryphon?-is into some crazy stuff. Whips and chains."

"Protect me? From what?" Raine stepped into her interview shoes and smoothed her hands down her black skirt. "I'm not going to sleep with him. I'm interviewing for a job. What do I care about his s.e.xual perversions?"

Still scowling, Liz shuffled through the pages. "Listen to me. He could be dangerous." She poked an index finger at a picture. "Look, three of his past lovers died-"

Raine hugged her paranoid friend, cutting off the rant before it got even uglier. "Sweetie, I appreciate the fact that you're so concerned." She plopped on the bed and flung an arm over Liz's shoulder. "But you're overreacting. That newspaper's a joke. You know that, right? They print any dirt they can cook up about a person, even if there's not a shred of truth to it."

Liz lifted the paper. "Yeah, but-"

"Yeah but...if the man were dangerous, he'd be in jail. No more brain junk food for you." She s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper out of Liz's hands and dropped it in the trash as she strolled toward the door. "Now, if this info was coming from a reliable source, I'd consider skipping the interview."

Satisfied that she was not making a life-threatening decision by interviewing for a fabulous job that paid almost five times more than her last one, she headed out to the hallway, stopping at the bathroom door for one last check in the mirror. She smiled, to make sure none of the soft pink lipstick she'd glossed over her lips had gone astray, and smoothed a flyaway strand of hair back from her face.

Per-fect.

Now, if only she could convince one billionaire with questionable s.e.xual tastes and a hugely successful business that she was the perfect sales department office manager, then she'd be breathing a whole lot easier.

Her unemployment was about to run out, and thanks to a severe depression in the local economy, the only other job interview she'd been able to secure in the five months since she was laid off was for an entry-level job that wouldn't pay enough to make her rent, let alone buy food, gas for her car, and all the other necessities of life.

She just knew there'd be a bazillion other people interviewing for this job. How would she make herself stand out from the crowd?

Confidence. That was the key.

At her apartment's door, she looped her purse over her shoulder and closed her fingers around the handle of her briefcase. "Okay." She pulled in a deep breath, hoping it would slow down her racing heart. "I'm ready."

Liz threw her arms around her and squeezed in the typical Liz way before taking a step back. "You're not going to need it, but good luck." Liz pulled her cell from her pocket. "Call me the minute you're done."

"Will do."

"And don't forget," Liz reached around Raine and fisted the doork.n.o.b, "I'm good enough..."

"I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!" Raine finished, quoting the old Sat.u.r.day Night Live skit they were obsessed with, to the point of being pathetic. But it was them. And it was fun. And it sure beat sitting around b.i.t.c.hing about how sucky their lives were.

Out she went. She cranked up the radio as she drove to the interview. Despite the cheerful music, she sweated and shook through the drive. And her jittery nerves only got worse during the walk from the parking lot, the stroll through the enormous lobby, the ride in the elevator, and the excruciating wait upstairs. She sat in a chair positioned just outside a set of black leather-covered doors, tufted to look like an ottoman or something.

A metallic snick told her those bizarre doors were about to open, and she was about to see her prospective boss for the first time. More importantly, he was about to see her.

First impressions. Deep breath. In. Out. Smile.

Her lips curled back in what she hoped would resemble a friendly expression.

The doors slowly inched open, revealing a...woman. And not just any woman, an absolutely beautiful one who looked like she belonged on a New York fas.h.i.+on runway, not in an office building in metro Detroit.

The woman's expression remained absolutely stoic, like a robot's, as she stepped to the side, pus.h.i.+ng one of the doors open wider. "Mr. Zade will see you now."

Raine stood, briefcase in one shaking hand, the other tucked behind her back. Her heels clicked and clacked on the polished wood floor as she hiked up her chin, pasted on her fake smile and headed in for the interview that could score her the job of a lifetime.

He was sitting behind an enormous desk, reading something. Tryphon Zade, the one and only. He didn't lift his eyes when she entered the room, just waved her in. She was actually kind of glad he didn't watch her, especially when she tripped over the edge of the rug like a total klutz.

Breathe.

Relax.

Confidence.

She settled into the chair in front of the desk, slid her hand into the front pocket of her briefcase and pulled out a fresh copy of her resume. She placed it on the glossy stone desktop then clenched her hands in her lap.

Finally, he looked at her.

Her insides lurched.

She'd seen pictures of this man in the newspapers. She'd expected him to be good looking. But ohmyG.o.d, she'd had no idea how absolutely striking he'd be in person. About a zillion seconds too late, she realized he'd reached across the desk and was waiting to shake her hand.

"Tryphon Zade," he said, giving her a strained look.

h.e.l.lo! Wake up! Her face felt like it was going to melt it was so hot. Wake up!

She jumped to her feet, shoved her hand in his and gave it a quick pump up and down. "Raine Avery. Thank you for this opportunity."

"Please, be seated." He waited for her to sit back down before speaking again. His lips did this little quirking thing, going slightly higher on one side than the other. She wondered if he was trying to hide a smile. The expression emphasized the s.e.xy cleft in his chin.

She reminded herself that the job she'd come to interview for was vastly more important than a silly thing like a cute cleft. Or eyes so dark they reminded her of black mirrors.

"I reviewed your resume this morning. It's very impressive."

"I brought a fresh copy, in case you needed it." She pushed it forward.

"Thank you." His fingers grazed hers as he dragged the paper toward him. His gaze locked on hers for one heart-pittery moment.

What was going through that man's mind? Did he think she was a total blubbering idiot?

Oh my G.o.d, get your head together, Avery. You can't afford to screw up this interview.

Just before she thought she might pa.s.s out from holding her breath, he looked down. She took those few moments to try to steady herself and clear her head, which was getting more clogged up and fuzzy with every second that ticked by.

For some reason she just couldn't seem to focus on the fact that she was at an important job interview. Her mind wanted to wander off in all kinds of frustrating directions, most of them really, really embarra.s.sing. Like was this amazing-looking man with the ink-black hair and eyes, and chiseled cheekbones that made him look fiercely masculine, really into whips and chains?

"Can you tell me why you left your last position?" he asked.

"My employer downsized and I was laid off," she recited.

"I see." He steepled his fingers under his chin. "Can you describe a situation where you had to use your initiative to solve a problem at work?"

Oh man, this guy was skipping right to hard questions. And it didn't help that she found him so amazingly s.e.xy she could barely think straight.

Initiative? Hmmmm...

Her last position had been as an office manager for a small sales team serving the Big Three automakers. Her job, which consisted mostly of paper shuffling, didn't provide many opportunities to exercise her initiative.

Except...

"I created a new system to track samples for customers, following them through the manufacturing process to ensure they would be delivered on time. The system freed up the sales engineers to focus on more important duties, like securing new contracts."

He nodded. "Very good. Now, will you tell me, under what conditions do you work best, Miss Avery?"

Another toughie.

"I'd say the kind of environment that allows me some independence. Where I don't have someone constantly watching over my shoulder, telling me what to do, how to do it and when. I'd like to think I'm capable of knowing how to set my own schedule, meet my own deadlines and keep myself busy."

He crossed his arms over his chest. Not a good sign. Although that position made his arms look super thick. And his shoulders bigger.

"What do you feel an employer owes an employee?" he asked.

Owes? Was that a trick question?

"I'd say the obvious-a paycheck for the hours worked." She paused after giving her answer. It couldn't be that simple. Or could it? "Also a safe working environment, free from dangers, hostility, you know, reasonable things."

He stood, circled the desk, then rested his very nice b.u.t.t on the corner and crossed those thick arms over his chest. "I'm looking to fill two positions at the moment. Along with the sales office manager, I'm also searching for a new personal a.s.sistant."

Personal a.s.sistant!

"I intentionally didn't advertise the second job. I have my own way of looking for applicants."

Personal a.s.sistant!

Smiling, she nodded. She could care less about his hiring quirks. That fact was, he'd mentioned the position to her. That meant he was considering her for it. Right?

Yeah! A job as a personal a.s.sistant to a man this powerful would not only pay great but would also look very good on her resume. Yes, yesyesyes!

"You are an excellent candidate for either job. But I think you would be especially well qualified for the personal a.s.sistant's position. There's something about you..."

Yeah! I've got the job. Oh thank G.o.d!

"Unfortunately, there's a catch."

Her insides dropped to her toes.

Of course there was a catch. Nothing as wonderful as the job of her dreams dropping from the sky and landing in her lap had ever happened to her. Ever. Why, oh why did she think it would today?

The energy drained from her body.

And then he planted a hand on his bent knee and leaned forward, and instantly, she felt small and self-conscious.

What the heck was he doing? She leaned back in her chair, pressing her shoulder blades against the back.

This was the weirdest, most bizarre job interview she'd ever been to. Granted, a huge part of that was her fault. The thoughts that had whipped through her brain were n.o.body's but hers.

His gaze swept over her face, lingering for a little too long on her mouth. "I won't hire women I'm physically attracted to."

Won't hire. Huh?

Physically attracted. What?

Won't hire! No way!

He did not just tell her he found her attractive. And he did not just say he couldn't hire her because of that. If I had the money, I'd hire a f.u.c.king attorney...what the h.e.l.l?

This made no sense. What about Miss Model-Perfect, who'd escorted her into the office? What red-blooded man wouldn't be attracted to that?

"Really?" she asked.

He nodded.

"You're kidding, right?"

This time, he shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I'm serious."

Noooooo. This sucked! She needed a job really bad. And she wanted to work for this company. Either job. She wasn't picky.

"I can ugly down if that would help," she suggested, desperate to find a work-around to what was quickly becoming a huge problem.

"Raine, I'm going to be honest with you here, even though my lawyers would probably tell me I'm making a huge mistake. I need to tell you the truth because I respect you. My decision has nothing to do with your skills, or lack thereof. You are highly qualified for either position. But you couldn't make yourself ugly if you shaved your head, painted yourself with mud, and wore your grandmother's hand-me-downs."

If he wanted ugly, she'd give him ugly. "Listen-" At the last minute she bit back the ugly expletive sitting on her tongue.

Maybe he meant that comment as a compliment, but she couldn't take it as one, for several reasons. The biggest, of course, was because she was so desperate for a job.

Was this so-called decision of his truly grounds for a lawsuit? She could find out. A quick Google search would probably tell her whether or not she might actually have a case.

Then again, what would she gain if she did sue him? A huge wad of cash? Probably not. More likely, if she did win-big if-he would be forced to hire her. But all that would get her was a job working for a man who was notorious for being a s.e.xual deviant and had, evidently, a hard time separating work from pleasure.

Would he follow her around, staring with those dark eyes, touching her when she didn't want him to? Making her feel closed in and suffocated? Talk about less-than-ideal working conditions. She didn't want to work in that kind of environment. No way.