Free Stolen (Book One) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) by Ella London

interested.
    Possible?
    Hardly.
    Still, she couldn’t help but replay their brief interactions and feel that she’d missed a chance at something vitally important.
    It’s because you’re a virgin, silly. You don’t have the confidence to engage with a sophisticated, experienced man.
    “Miss Beckett?” the receptionist called out.
    Sigourney snapped out of her reverie, her eyes wide. “Oh, yes. Sorry.” She stood up hastily, moving toward the desk.
    The receptionist was holding a clipboard and a very fancy looking pen with Parker Capital printed in silver up the side. “This is for you to read and sign,” she said.
    As Sigourney took the clipboard, expecting to find a basic application form to fill out, she was instead greeted with an offer of employment letter.
    Her brow creased as she briefly studied the few paragraphs. Then she looked up at the receptionist. “I think there’s been a mistake,” Sigourney told her.
    The receptionist was typing as she stared at her monitor. “We don’t make mistakes here,” she replied without even looking at Sigourney. Her fingers made clacking noises as her perfectly polished nails glided across the keys.
    Sigourney laughed disbelievingly. “Well, I think this time you did. See, I’m supposed to have an interview and this…this is an offer letter.” She held the clipboard up as proof.
    “Yes, that’s exactly what it is,” the woman replied, still not bothering to look at her.
    “Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” Sigourney continued, her exasperation growing.
    “Is that your name in the letter?” the receptionist asked.
    She nodded. “It’s my name, but—“
    “Then that’s exactly what was intended,” the receptionist said, her tone getting more clipped and cold, if such a thing was possible.
    Sigourney felt like she’d stepped into a hidden camera television show. Was it possible? She actually looked around to see if there were cameras visible. Someone was going to step out from around the corner and begin laughing at her reactions.
    Right?
    Anything made more sense than this form attached to the clipboard. She scanned it more carefully this time.

    D ear Sigourney Beckett ,

    W e are pleased to offer you the position of Personal Assistant to the Chief Executive Officer of Parker Capital. This is a full-time position with full employee benefits. The benefits package is discussed in the attendant handbook, available for your perusal.
    The initial annual salary for this position is $120,000.
    Other stipulations include: use of the company car for any errands related to work assignments, room and board at the company assigned lodging, and a phone device and phone plan paid in full by Parker Capital for use in conjunction with your official duties.
    You have until the end of the day to accept and sign this letter. Your employment will begin immediately upon signing.
    Sincerely,

    O rlando Parker
    CEO of Parker Capital

    T he letter was signed with flourishing, confident script. She read it at least four times while standing in front of the reception desk.
    Her mouth went dry.
    This made absolutely no sense. There had been no interview.
    Even stranger still, the position she was supposed to have interviewed for was not a full-time position, but a temporary one. Her duties for the temp position, as she recalled reading online, had been things like filing, faxing, doing mail runs and making copies.
    Perhaps this was some bizarre ethics test. She’d read about competitive corporations doing strange things to challenge prospective employees, but this took the cake.
    If this was a test, than she needed to figure out what they were testing for.
    If she signed the letter, perhaps she would fail the test, if they were assessing her ethics.
    Or maybe they wanted to see if she was ambitious and cutthroat enough to sign the offer letter even though it was plainly meant for someone else.
    A venture capital firm surely valued greed above almost everything, including