The Employer

Chapter 10

Marc Nassar

I try my best to not look at her plump lower lip caught between her teeth, but my gaze wanders down briefly. The desire to trace my thumb across her lip and pull it out is searing through my fingertips.

Stop looking down.

I don't normally share much about myself with others, but the way Celeste is looking at me when I meet her eyes again, so expectantly, makes me want to dive into her request as deftly as four gold medal Olympian, Greg Louganis. "Well, I'm originally Lebanese. My parents immigrated to the US before I was born."

"I knew you were exotic," she responds.

"What gave it away?" That sounded flirtier out of my mouth than in my head. But I'm not flirting.

"Do you own a mirror? You don't look like most men around here."

"Is that a good or bad thing?" I really should stop asking these types of questions, but something uniquely warm continues to fill up my body.

"Definitely a good thing," she says with a hint of mischief in her voice, wrapping her long fingers around her mug, which rests in her palms near her face. "I bet women fling themselves at you."

I shift in my seat and a smile pulls at my lips. How do I even respond to that? Do I ask her why she thinks that? As in, what does she think about me? No. That's a leading question which creates unprofessional discourse in an already slightly less than proper interview.

She clears her throat. "Anyway, sorry to interrupt. Please continue."

Tension lifts from my muscles. "My siblings and I were born in Boston, where we grew up. We all left the area for college or work except my sister Talia who still lives there. My mom died when I was younger so I didn't really know her."

A deep crevice forms between her thick brows. "I'm so sorry. I know what not having a parent is like."

"It wasn't so bad. We had a lot of relatives that visited who would help take care of us," I say as I track her lips meeting her mug. "Anyway, I went to law school here in Georgia and have just stayed here ever since."

"When did you graduate undergrad?"

"About eleven years ago. Why?" I ask. She's lost in thought with a blank expression on her face, causing me to smirk. "You can save yourself the mental math if you want to know my age. I'm thirty three."

She takes a dramatic slurp from her coffee mug while lifting her brows, like she knows she's been caught.

A chuckle escapes me. I take a sip from my own mug. The caffeine must be working quickly, as I've been laughing way more than I normally do in a social situation. Maybe it's because this is technically an interview so there's no pressure to carry any likeability?

"Are you divorced or a widower?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Neither. The girls showed up at my doorstep when they were just weeks old. There was a letter in one of their carriers from their mother that explained that our one night stand nine months prior had a more lasting effect than intended. I barely even remembered who she was, but knew just from looking at the twins that they were my daughters. My family pushed me to get a paternity test and I hadn't for the longest time. Then, a couple of years ago I remembered that a rare disease killed my mom and it would be wise to test the girls for peace of mind. Thankfully, they were clear. So, all it did was confirm what I already knew."

Celeste's eyes are wide. "I did not expect that."

"Expect what?"

"A one night stand."