The Mogul
Authors: Michelle Marquis
The Mogul
Copyright © April 2012, Michelle Marquis
Cover art by Mina Carter © April 2012
Amira Press
Charlotte
,
NC
www.amirapress.com
ISBN:
978-1-937394-44-8
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.
Dedication
To all those who aspire for greatness someday
Chapter One
“I’ve been looking for a job for over three months,” said Candace Wilson, pouring a generous amount of blue cheese dressing onto her salad.
Her friend, Mona Cox, nodded in sympathy. She sipped her white wine. “I know, Candy. It’s rough out there. I guess going back to work for Max is out of the question.”
Candace grimaced at the mention of her old boss. He’d been one of the most successful corporate lawyers in town before the scandal broke. She sure missed the money, but definitely not him. “Totally out of the question. He’s been indicted on three counts of bribing a government official. I’m just lucky he didn’t try to implicate me in his crimes.”
Mona finished off her wine and picked at her fruit salad. Her friend was a notoriously picky eater and often left her meals untouched. Candace hated to see the lovely fruit go to waste. She wondered if it would be out of line to ask the waiter to box up what Mona didn’t eat. Food was a scarce resource since she’d lost her job.
“What about Max’s associates? Surely there are other lawyers in town who you met through the firm? Maybe you could contact one of them.”
“I contacted all of them. Unfortunately, everyone’s trying to distance themselves from Max. I guess that extends to his former employees too. No, what I need is a job outside the paralegal world. I need to lay low for a while until all this stuff with Max blows over.”
“Few things pay as well as a paralegal, Candy.”
Candace sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Yeah, I know.”
“The only thing I’ve heard of is an assistant job with Markus Grant. But you don’t want that. Markus keeps crazy hours.”
“Markus Grant? The movie producer Markus Grant?
That
Markus Grant?”
“Yeah, that’s him. So you’ve heard of him. His old assistant is on maternity leave for two months, and he’s been feeling around for someone to take her place until she comes back.”
“I could do that job.”
“Now wait before you jump too soon. Those movie people can be
really
hard to work for. This isn’t a nine-to-five job. Are you sure this is something you want to do?”
Candace wondered if Mona was delusional. Of course she’d take the job if it was offered. She was getting desperate. Hell, she was about to throw down with Mona over some leftover fruit, for heaven’s sake. “I don’t care how difficult he is. No one can be as moody as Max. Who do I need to call to be considered?”
“Since they don’t know you, I’ll have to call and tell him about you. But I’m not promising anything. A lot of people have been stalking him for this job, so he might already have someone.”
“Okay, okay. When are you going to call?”
Mona stared at her with her large brown eyes. She blinked once, probably wondering what Candace’s problem was. “I can call him when I get back to my office.”
Candace forced herself not to jump across the table and hug her friend. “That would be great, Mona. Thanks.” She wolfed down the rest of her salad. “Oh, um, can you call me right after you talk to him?”
“What if he says no?”
“Then call anyway. I won’t be able to handle the suspense.”
“Please don’t get your hopes up. All I can possibly get you is an interview.”
“That’s fine, I understand.”
Mona frowned and pushed her fruit plate even farther away than it had been. “If you do get an interview, you can’t act desperate, Candy. That will guarantee you won’t get the job.”
“I know how to interview, Mona.”
“I just wanted to get that out there.”
The waiter came over and placed the check on the table. Candace pulled out her last ten dollars and handed it over.
“Are you all done with this, ma’am?” the waiter asked Mona about her fruit plate.
“No,” Candace said before Mona could reply. “Can we have it boxed up to take home?”
The waiter gave Candace a knowing look. He picked up Mona’s plate and left.
Candace smiled in the face of Mona’s quizzical stare. “What?”
“Is everything okay?” Mona asked in a tone that made Candace want to slap her face off.
“Sure, everything’s peachy. I just thought it was a shame to see all that food go to waste.”
Mona pursed her lips and reached into the pile of cash. She removed Candace’s ten dollars and replaced it with one of her own. “Here,” she said, holding the bill out. “Take this. You need it more than I do.”
Candace was both insulted and relieved. She wanted to tell Mona she didn’t need charity, but instead she took back her ten dollars. “Thanks, Mona.”
Mona grinned. “Sure. When you get your new job, you can treat me. Deal?”
“Deal.”
The waiter returned with the fruit all boxed up. He handed it to Candace with a warm grin. “I packed some bread in there too. You know, just in case the fruit wasn’t enough.”
Candace smiled and thanked him. On the way out of the restaurant, she said a little prayer hoping this dry spell wouldn’t last much longer. She didn’t know how much more humble pie and leftover fruit plates she could eat.
Chapter Two
It had been two days since she’d had lunch with Mona and still no word from Markus Grant. Candace wasn’t disappointed in Mona since her friend had made the call and promptly called her back to tell her he’d sounded noncommittal. Even though Mona had warned her, Candace was mad at herself for getting her hopes up. Of course a man like Markus Grant had a million applicants for the job of assistant. What made her think he might actually consider her? He’d never even met her, for heaven’s sake.
Candace sat in the living room of her apartment and stared at the computer screen. It was disheartening to see how few jobs were listed. She applied for a few long shots and let out a long, exaggerated sigh. She picked up her cell phone and shook it. “Ring, damn you!”
The phone rang.
At first, Candace was so startled she just stared at it. The calling number showed
private
on her cell phone screen.
It’s probably a bill collector.
On the third ring, she answered it.
“Hello?”
“Candace Wilson?” It was a man’s deep
voice speaking so softly he was almost whispering in the phone.
“This is she.”
There was a moment of silence on the line. “I’m Markus Grant.”
“Oh . . . Yes, hello there.” She cringed at how stupid she must sound.
“Mona called me about you. She said you were smart and learned fast. I understand you were a paralegal.”
“Yes, that’s right. Did you need someone with a legal background?”
“No, not really.”
Her stomach dropped, and a mild queasiness settled there. “Oh.”
“I like smart people. Are you as smart as Mona says?”
What a really weird question. If she didn’t need this job so badly, she would have hung up. Strangeness in a boss didn’t bode well for the future. Candace knew all about strange bosses. Her last one had been a doozy. “I like to think so, yes.”
“You got a boyfriend?”
Candace pulled the phone from her ear for a moment to stare at it. “Excuse me, but what does that have to do with being your personal assistant?”
Another moment of silence and she was sure he was about to hang up. “I’ll rephrase the question. Is there any reason why you might have to keep regular working hours? How is your availability?”
“I can work anytime, if that’s what you mean.”
“Good. Here’s my number. Text me your address. I’ll send a car to pick you up in twenty minutes. Be ready.”
Candace was about to object—she couldn’t be ready for an interview that fast—when he hung up. She sat there debating whether or not to call him back to ask for more time. Then she reconsidered. This was probably a test of some sort. She texted him her address and figured she’d better just do her best to be ready. She’d already wasted three minutes sitting here.
Candace leapt into action. She went into the bathroom and washed herself in the sink since she didn’t have time for a full shower. She put on her best-smelling deodorant and smoothed on some Dark Beauty foundation. Then she put on a little silver eye shadow and plum-blush-colored lipstick. Satisfied, she worked a pick through her short curls and did the best she could to tame some of her more rebellious areas.
Not bad for a ten-minute cleanup.
Next she rummaged through her designer suit collection and found an ivory Ann Taylor suit. The light color of the suit played nicely off her dark skin. She glanced at the clock and squeaked in panic. She had five minutes to get downstairs. She picked out a pair of white pumps with a peep toe and hastily slipped them on.
Grabbing her purse, Candace flew out the door. She was just at the stairs when she realized she hadn’t locked the front door. Swearing under her breath, she rushed back over and fumbled for her keys. After an eternity of searching, where she vowed to buy a smaller purse or carry less stuff, she finally found her keys and locked the door.
She reached the front of her building with only two minutes to spare. Unfortunately, the black
Lincoln
, which she assumed had been sent for her, was already parked and waiting. Candace quickly walked over to the passenger side window. It rolled down silently.