Wilde at Heart (Completed)

Chapter 1

Layla Kelly crossed her legs as she seated herself in the large chair outside Canon Wilde's office. His blonde, smiling secretary sat behind her desk right down the hallway, just outside the elevator, her nametag upside down. Layla was nervous and not even the woman trying to find glasses that were perched on top of her head was calming her down. This wasn't her first interview. But she was desperate to make a good impression. She needed this job. As her wait grew longer, her fingernails grew shorter and with a frown, she looked down at her hands and then resolutely folded them in her lap. Her mind wandered to what her new boss would be like. Half of Jackson, Mississippi, decidedly the feminine portion, loved him for his good looks. The other half hated him. He was cold, arrogant, and said to be ruthless in his business dealings, which might have had something to do with the wealth he'd accumulated. The newspapers and tabloids raved about his philandering ways and had dubbed him: Playboy of the South. The women he had been with sported lavish gifts after his flings and had the satisfaction of having one night in his bed. More power to them.

She remembered however, a story she had read a long time ago, shortly after he had taken over his father's company. Though she credited all things she read in those articles as rumors and not necessarily truth, she could definitely sympathize with the man. Their backgrounds were similar in some aspects. She thought in awe of how successful he had become, pulling his father's nearly bankrupt company, Wilde Brother's Incorporated, back from the brink of failure and introducing a cleaner, smarter running engine for the automobile called the Mozzy. She wanted to become a part of his team. Not just because she needed the rent money for her apartment, but because she liked the work he was doing and she admired his business skills.

Smoothing down the front of her navy blue pencil skirt, she took out her compact and checked her features one more time. She reminded herself again that she was every bit as qualified for the job as anyone else. Out of the corner of her eye, she peeked at the woman sitting next to her. Enviously, she eyed the woman's curves and long blonde hair.

"Kayla Stone," called the receptionist from her desk, "Go on in."

Layla's watched as the woman next to her gracefully rose and made her way into the office. Minutes passed in boredom as Layla waited for her turn. She considered it bad taste to have interviews back to back like Mr. Wilde seemed to be doing, but who was she to judge? A few minutes later, Layla jumped in shock as something large crashed behind the closed double doors in front of her. Her eyebrows rose and she watched in amusement as one of the black doors jerked open and Blondie stepped out, her face red. The receptionist looked up from her phone, eyes wide and asked, "What happened?"

Blondie never answered. As soon as the elevator doors slammed closed behind her, the receptionist shrugged and said, "Well, that was that."

"Rose," shouted a masculine voice from the office. The receptionist hopped up from her desk and quickly made her way inside Canon Wilde's office, leaving the door ajar. Hesitantly, Layla got up and walked to the door and peeked in. Her eyes widened as she gazed at a suit-clad back. She recognized him as Canon Wilde. His picture had been in too many magazines and newspapers for her not to recognize him. A small squeak escaped her mouth as she took in his six foot four broad-shouldered muscular frame and she instantly knew why the ladies loved him so much. This man had been endowed with nature's finest. Large broad shoulders were clothed in a crisp white shirt and black suit coat and tailored black slacks hugged his long lean legs. Layla felt herself blushing as she realized she was ogling him. Tearing her eyes away from the beautiful man, Layla took in the scene. A vase lay smashed to bits on the floor and desk, glass shards sparkling against the smooth wood floor. Canon Wilde was pressing a white clothe to his blood-soaked hand his brow furrowed angrily. Another squeak escaped Layla's mouth as the receptionist tried to take a look at his hand but only received a glare for her pains. The white cloth was swiftly turning to red and Layla realized the gash was deep.