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Rekindled: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance by Ashlee Price (30)


 

Chapter 1 – Desiree

“It’s going to be okay. You worry too much.”

“I hope you’re right. I don’t know what I’m going to do if I don’t get this internship. There is nowhere that will even hire me without some type of work experience.”

“I told you last semester to do that work program for Calley’s.”

I nodded in agreement. While Fran had tried to convince me that it would be great on my resume, I hadn’t been thinking about that. All I’d been thinking about was getting the summer off. It was the one time that I didn’t want to worry about classes or financial aid or any of the stress of the rest of the year. Now I was kind of kicking myself for it. I should have listened.

“You were right.”

She looked at me a little shocked. If she had known how many people I had talked to about a job and how many of them told me they would hire me when I got some experience, she wouldn’t have been. Fran had been right, and I now wished I would have listened.

“I can’t believe you just agreed with me.”

“Don’t get used to it, but I can admit when I’m wrong. I was definitely wrong about that. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

I really didn’t. It had been almost three months since I had graduated, and I was starting to get the feeling that I had missed out on some sort of advice that everyone else knew.

“You will find something.”

I smiled back at her. Fran’s gloating was over, and I was thankful that she was not that kind of person. She had been right more than once in the years I had known her since we started middle school together.

“You’re just worried I won’t be able to pay rent.”

“It’s due.”

Sighing to myself, I looked back at my reflection and tried to convince myself that today was the day that everything was going to change. I might have talked brave, and I would never admit the fear I had inside, but it didn’t stop me from feeling like this was the last chance. If I didn’t get into the accounting internship program at Jefferson & Marshal, I had a feeling that I was going to have to take a bookkeeping job that paid less than the bar job I had now.

“So how do I look?”

“I would hire you, especially if I didn’t have to pay you any money.”

“It’s only for six weeks, unpaid.”

“That’s if you get the job.”

I gave her a look. I didn’t want to be reminded of the chances of getting a job from the internship. It wasn’t guaranteed, but I had to believe my luck would change if I could just get my foot in the door.

“I have some faith. If not, I got a couple of shifts this weekend that will take care of the rent.”

Pulling my blonde hair back, I put in a few bobby pins to hold it back. “You don’t think this outfit looks slutty, do you?’

The jacket was a little tight on the chest and the skirt was a little tight on my rear. I pulled the undershirt up a little so there wasn’t so much cleavage, but I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to cover it all. I was feeling unsure, and her telling me that it might help me out didn’t help me then when I was questioning everything.

“You look fine, Desiree. Just go in there and be yourself. You know your stuff and you just need them to give you a chance.”

I hugged her a little and tried to take her confidence with me out the door. I knew that even if I was selected for one of the ten positions, there was still only one full-time job at the end of the internship. There was a lot riding on this, a lot of hopes and dreams, but there was nothing else to cling to, so I had no choice.

***

When I got there, I was expecting to see quite a few applicants, but it was nothing like the long line that led outside. I almost turned around and left as soon as I got out of my car. There was no way that I was going to be picked out of all these people. My heart was breaking, and I knew then that getting the internship was most likely not going to happen.

Several more people got in behind me where I was standing in the line. I almost got out, but something kept me in my place and in the line. I had put so much time and effort into going there, that it seemed stupid to leave just because there was more competition than I had anticipated. I was going to go through with it. Even if it was a last-ditch effort, I still had to try.

The only good thing about all of it was that the line moved rather quickly. It started as something that was never going to end, but in no time at all I was through the doors. I knew that there had to be something, some kind of criteria that was making it easy for them to get through so many people so quickly. I was nervous and hoped that whatever it was would be something that I had and they wanted. I needed the job, and since I was now in the door, I knew it wasn’t going to be long until I was up. By the way they were moving through people, there would only be a few moments to make myself stand out from all of the rest.

I looked down at the top of my shirt, and I almost undid another button. I stopped myself, thinking that with my luck it would be a female interviewer. I was out of confidence by the time that I got to the receptionist who asked for my name and my resume.

I gave them to her and waited. I tried to avoid the small talk that was pulling at my lips. I knew that I shouldn’t be standing there jabbering like an idiot, so I refrained from saying anything at all. She looked my resume over rather quickly and then asked me to go stand in a line that was winding down the hall.

I didn’t know what that meant, but the tall blonde handed me a card with a number on it and was done talking to me. I felt a little miffed as I stood in the other line, but as I watched the four people behind me move out of the other door and exit, I felt like maybe that meant I would have some kind of a chance. I kept telling myself that all I needed was a chance to turn it all around.

As I got closer to the large office in front, the people in front of me filed in one by one. They were never in there very long, and soon I was up next. I was hoping that it would be as painless as it had been with the last step, but I was not ready for who was on the other side of the door.