Chapter 6: Interview of the Century

(Beth's POV)

Quiet and empty. Nothing like the other night with hundreds of sweaty and gross bodies littering the floor. There are lights on as if it were any other building, no strobe lights. “Hello?” I call out to the deserted dance floor. Hoping anyone will respond to me.

But no answer. Shrugging, I sit down at the empty bar and wait patiently. He could be distracted. Mr. Funari probably leads a busy life. Ten minutes turn into thirty. I am early. However, 4:30 p.m. had come and gone. Growing worried that I had been stood up, I proceed to wander to the back of the club where I hazily remember sitting the other night.

Through the door is a brightly lit waiting room with three other doors. One leads to a private bathroom and the second a living area where dancers get ready for the night along with a kitchenette. Cool. Very well accommodated. The third door is locked tight and judging by the noises on the other side, I automatically assume that Mr. Funari lost track of time.

“Hello? Mr. Funari?” I call out, knocking on the door. From behind the door, I can hear a woman cursing and hushing sounds. The door opens seconds later to reveal a woman in a red dress, haphazardly thrown back on. Her blond hair is thrown back in a messy bun.

“And what do you want? Don’t you think you are in the wrong part of town snobbish b*tch?” She demands toward me, holding her chin high as if she is defending her property. Am I in the wrong building? I'm sure this is where Clara and I had been the other night.

“I’m here to see Mr. Funari for an interview. My interview was at four. It’s five currently. So, forgive me for being a bit curious and looking around.” I shoot back at her. “By the way, your highness, your plastic nipple is showing. Might wanna adjust your dress a bit or maybe even get a bigger size?”

She shoves me out of the way with a spattering of curse words that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I’m met with the man from the other night. The man that bandaged my throat. Anthony. What?

He’s buttoning up his shirt and running his fingers through messy hair that was slicked back last time. I like it better messy and really wanted to play with it myself. “See something you like, Bethany?” He has a playful grin on his face.

With red cheeks, I shake my head and step further into the room. It’s a very well-kept and clean space, and automatically I start to relax. Clean spaces usually mean safe spaces. At least in my experience, it does.

“Bethany, I truly apologize for my tardiness. I lost track of time and was forced into a distraction. I hope you’ll forgive me.” He smiles toward me, but the smile never reaches his eyes.

“If it would be better, I can come back another day or not at all if you aren’t interested in me anymore. I wasn’t trying to interrupt or anything. I’m really….” Anthony silences me with a warm hand on my shoulder and a raised eyebrow.

“That’s enough of that. I didn’t want that woman anyway. Trust me. She doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. And I’m much too nice to lay my hands on women even if they are a harassment. Thank you for interrupting. Now let’s get started on paperwork and the legal stuff. We can have a more pleasant conversation after.” The smile meets his eyes this time as he looks down at me.

“Does that mean I got the job?” I ask confused. I thought this was an interview… Not a sign-on event.

“You already showed me your worth. If you’d like the job, it’s all yours. As long as you don’t dress so professionally next time. Have fun with it. Suits draw attention to me, and I’d rather not have attention drawn to me, if at all possible.” He informs with a wink and sits down behind the beautiful oak desk.

I agree and sit in the chair offered. If I'm being offered a job, I’ll gladly take it. Anthony hands me a stack of typical paperwork necessary for any job and I set to fill it out. When I get to the agreed payment my jaw drops and I look up to see Anthony laughing at me.

“Why am I being paid six figures for an assistant position?” I ask, dumbfounded and in disbelief.

“Because your job will require you to live with me and be away from home. I make sure my employees are very well compensated. I also ask that you don’t talk about the specifics of what you see while we travel to my other clubs,” he states.

Why is he being so cryptic? What was he hiding? This is legit, right? I’m not selling myself?

Anthony rolls his eyes and nudges me to finish signing. “I see you are an overthinker. I just ask because I have…” he pauses and looks thoughtful for a moment. “There are people that want to destroy my businesses and I would like to make that as hard as possible for them. There is nothing you have to worry about. You stay safe and besides, you get to travel the country.”

Having grown up with an overprotective and mildly abusive father with little to no money, there is a part of me that says I should leave and never look back. However, that part of me has little say in my life choices now. I sign the last few papers and lean back in the chair, content in my decision.

“All done? You are quick. You will be very useful in the future. The application you originally applied for has changed a bit. You will be traveling with me as my personal assistant. Is Monday an alright start date for you?” He tells me, standing and stretching.

“Yes, that’s great. I’d be happy to start. But what will I be doing?” I am confused about that much. What would a personal assistant do that makes six figures?

“You’ll answer calls for me and take messages from the individuals that want to talk to me while we are traveling all of my locations. You’ll assist me in making certain decisions. You’ll also eventually be coordinating with some of my other affiliates.” He answers, leading me back to the front of the venue.

Other people are starting to wander in by this time, setting up for tonight. I find myself very fascinated in watching them work until I feel Anthony’s hand rest against the small of my back. “Bethany? Did you hear me?”

I turn toward him and shake my head.

“I asked how you arrived today.” He states again.

Oh… Yeah. “I took a taxi I don’t have a car. So, I just bear through the creepy drivers and hope I don’t become a toy or something to them.” I attempt to answer him as nonchalantly as possible. But his brow furrows and I can see anger appearing in his eyes.

“I have some errands to run anyway. Can I take you home? I’ll make arrangements for one of my drivers to escort you to and from work as long as we are in Chicago. Any other times you’ll be with me, so it won’t be of concern to me otherwise.” Anthony suggests and pulls out his phone.

He types at something for a moment and his brow furrows as he focuses on a message that comes in for him. He grumbles and shakes his head.

“Is everything all right?” I ask, worried for him. Why am I concerned? I barely know him.

“Everything is fine. Come on, I’ll drive you home.” Anthony encourages and pulls me out to the parking lot and to a tinted black sports car. What happened to him being inconspicuous? This is awfully noticeable. Men and their cars.

I roll my eyes and climb into the car, nonetheless. At least I didn’t have to worry about being harassed while trying to get home. I could get used to this.