Page 63 of Positively Pricked

The longer we talked, the more this felt like a joke. Over the last month, Zane Bennington had brought me nothing but misery. And the way it looked, he still wasn't quite done.

Once again, he leaned back in his chair. "Over the next few months, I'm gonna be ruffling a few feathers."

I wanted to laugh. A guy like Zane Bennington? He wouldn’t be content with merely ruffling a few feathers. No. Nothim. He'd ruffle the whole bird. Hell, a flock of birds. And then, he'd eat the birds for dinner. Raw. With a side of gravel.

Because he was just that awful.

I said, "So, let me get this straight. You're hiring some sort of good-cop, feather smoother? Isthatwhat you're saying?" I gave a nervous laugh. "Because that's one heck of a job title."

But Zane wasn't laughing. "That's not the title," he said, "although, if you wanna throw it on a card, be my guest."

"What card?"

"A business card."

"Oh."Damn it.I should've known that. "So, whatisthe title?"

As an answer, he reached into his top desk drawer and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He slid it across the desk in my direction.

I reached out and picked it up. On the sheet was a single typewritten paragraph under an official-looking job title. I read the title out loud. "Personal public relations manager." I looked up. "Seriously?"

My degree was in public relations. It was true that I hadn't done a whole lot with it, but it seemed an odd coincidence – unless it wasn't a coincidence at all.

I said, "Is this for real?"

As usual, he ignored my question. He pointed to the sheet and said, "Read the first word again. Out loud."

I glanced at the sheet. "Personal?"

"Right. Which means you're employed by me, not the company."

Technically, I wasn't employed by anyone, not yet. And I couldn’t help but notice that he seemed awful certain that I'd accept any offer.

For some stupid reason, maybe old-fashioned pride, I didn't like it. And yet, I could see why he'd be so sure of my acceptance. I was, after all, an unemployed catering assistant with an old car and no other prospects.

I bit my lip. In truth, this would've been my dream job if only it involved working for someone else.

Even in college, I'd worked my share of menial jobs – fast food, retail, whatever, anything for tuition. One thing I'd learned the hard way – no matter how great a job might seem, it totally sucked if your boss was an asshole.

I studied the guy across from me. He returned my gaze with no discernable emotion. In truth, it was a little unsettling.

I looked down and quickly scanned the rest of the job description. It was pretty standard for this type of work. It involved setting up interviews, answering media inquiries, and dealing with the public as needed.

I saw nothing about pay and benefits.

As I stared down at the sheet of paper, I couldn’t help but recall that Zane was the guy who'd gotten me fired from my last job. And now, he was offering me a new one?

It didn't make any sense.

If he'd been anyone else, I might've chalked it up to pity or regret. But this was Zane Bennington. He had no pity, and he wouldn’t know regret if it bit him on the ass. No. He was the kind of guy who'd evict an entire family – of relatives, no less – from their family home just because he could.

That wasn't the only thing that bothered me. Other than a brief summer internship, I had nearly no experience. But thiswasn'tan entry-level job. It was the kind of job that someone worked their way up to.

I was inexperienced, but not naïve. Zane could hire anyone. So why me?

I recalled that old saying. If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. I pulled my gaze from the description and looked to Zane.

I just had to ask, "What's the catch?"