Page 3 of Obey

Nate picks up his pen again, effectively dismissing us both.

Stubborn bastard.

I leave Jace to argue with him as I head out to get food. Somebody has to make sure the man eats before he passes out over another set of blueprints.

I heard Hannah’s voice before I even reached the lobby, cynical and carrying across the marble.

"As I said, the Client Experience Coordinator position has already received a large number of applicants." She taps one manicured nail against the desk. "And frankly, I wouldn't waste your time applying for anything else. We're very selective about who we bring into SOLAÉ."

I slow my steps, catching the unmistakable tension of an impending confrontation.

The woman across from her doesn’t flinch.

“I understand selective,” she says, voice smooth with a soft Southern edge. “What I don’t understand is how you decided I wasn’t qualified before even sending in my résumé.”

I slow near the corridor entrance, but Hannah hasn’t noticed me yet. Good.

Hannah gives the woman a slow once-over, making no effort to hide her judgment.

I've heard enough conversations dressed up in corporate language to recognize prejudice when it's standing right in front of me. Hannah apparently thinks adding a professional smile makes hers less obvious.

“We have a very specific culture here,” Hannah says.

The woman’s jaw tightens, then releases. “And what culture would that be?” she asks.

Hannah’s smile sharpens. “SOLAÉ is a luxury brand, and our clientele expects a certain level of polish.”

The woman looks down at herself once, then back up. “Interesting. I wasn't aware polish had a dress code I missed. Or does your definition of luxury only come in white?”

A flicker of irritation crosses Hannah's face. “You're twisting my words.”

“Am I?”

“All I'm saying is that a woman of your caliber would be much more comfortable in a position suited to your background,” Hannah replies, her smile never slipping. “I believe the hotel up the street is hiring housekeepers. Or perhaps one of the gentlemen's clubs along the waterfront would be a better fit.”

For a moment, the woman simply looks at her. Then she lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Wow. So we're not even pretending anymore.”

Hannah's smile disappears. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You haven't seen my résumé, you don't know a damn thing about my qualifications, and somehow you've decided I'm only good enough to clean somebody's room or take my clothes off for money?”

“I would suggest you lower your voice.”

“And I'd suggest you stop making assumptions about people you don't know.”

"Please I know your type," Hannah snorts as she sizes the woman up. "And frankly, sweetheart, we don't need another woman coming in here thinking she can flirt her way onto the executive floor. We've had enough of those already."

Well, that explains the attitude.

Hannah spent the better part of last year trying to convince Nate she belonged on the executive floor. He turned her down twice.

It wasn't a question of qualifications. She had those. The problem was her blatant interest in Jace.

She'd found every excuse imaginable to linger around his office, wearing outfits that left little doubt about what she was after. And Jace, being Jace, had flirted right back. The man flirted with damn near everyone, but Hannah had apparently mistaken his attention for something more.

Now she was treating every attractive woman who walked through our doors like competition.

"Excuse me? I came here for a job. Not because I'm trying to sleep my way upstairs."