Living With Boys

nine // looking up isabelle

For someone who had exclusively worked in the hospitality industry, as either a waitress or bartender, the sleek lines and big windows of a corporate office were equal parts inviting and intimidating.

I was thankful for the corporate pantsuit of armour that Jamie had helped me assemble this morning. Apparently, none of my clothes were appropriate for the calibre of the workplace—Jameson would know, given he rubbed shoulders and elbows and god knows what else with these kinds of people for his entire childhood—so Jamie had acquired one from his fuck buddy Madeleine for me to borrow. We were a similar build, both tall and slim, and it was only a touch too big in the chest and a little bit tight around my ass.

I did not fiddle with the evidently expensive fabric, because I was going to look confident and professional, goddamn it.

My legs were crossed in my chair as I waited in the lobby, occasionally catching the eye of the very good-looking receptionist, who looked vaguely familiar somehow. He was only a few years older than me, with dark hair and piercing green eyes. He was handsome in the way that Jamie was handsome; expensive, well-coiffed handsome, the kind that was inevitable when you had bucketloads of money to invest in that handsomeness. He was slimmer than Jamie, though, without any of the muscle that my boys had packed onto themselves. Where did I know this man from?

"Izzy Delaney?" he finally queried, looking up from the paperwork I'd handed in upon my arrival. It had my resume and cover letter enclosed; I'd never even gotten an interview without them before, but fortunately, the strings of nepotism Valerie had pulled in my favour had granted me a chance. "Oh, wow. If I'd bothered to do my job, I would have looked at these papers earlier. Then I wouldn't have spent the last ten minutes trying to recognise you. But you're a dead spit for Kai." At my searching, confused expression, the boy laughed. "But you don't have any paperwork to help you recognise me. My name is Cole?"

My mouth opened in a surprised oh. Cole Knight was from Will's year at school, but he'd left in the middle of our second last year, which had caused a big stir at the time, because he was on par with Jamie as the wealthiest student from school. He was also popular, partially because he was so rich, but mostly because he was unusually charming. Apparently, he'd wound up working for Lena Montez's mother, which didn't surprise me. The rich often ended up in each other's pockets.

That had been the benefit of achieving a scholarship to my prestigious high school. Fraternising with the affluent. But attempts to keep up with them had left me practically homeless, so I needed to get this job.

"Nice to see you," I said, smiling what I hoped was a cheerful, you-totally-want-me-around-the-office smile. "I'm here for an interview?"

"Yeah, no worries," he said, pushing away from his desk. "Lena just sent me a message to let me know she's ready. I'll take you into her."

"Lena is interviewing me?" I asked. I didn't know how to feel about that. The only thing I knew about Lena was that she was nuts and had a notably attractive boyfriend. Was she nuts enough to hire an unqualified bartender party girl? I could only hope.

Cole pushed open a frosted door that opened into a row of offices. They all looked shiny and expensive and brand-new. "Yep," he said. "You'll do great. She is going to love you. Or you could do what I did, and hang around and be annoying until she develops a certain fondness for your presence."

"Did that work?"

He shrugged. "Well, I'm her office bitch now, and she pays me well. So, who could complain? I mean, I do, all the time, because she takes advantage of me and my dedication to this job, but you know what I mean."

I didn't know if I should mention his confession that he had not been doing his job properly from five minutes ago, but I decided not to. I liked Cole; he seemed friendly and chatty, and if I was going to work here, I wanted to make friends. He ushered me to the office at the corner of the building, with extra windows and an enormous floor space. "Just take a seat inside. And don't stress." He winked at me, and the smile on his face put me at ease. "Lena is nice, I promise. And she's probably only about half as crazy as you've heard."