Expose - Episode 1 (Adult Erotic Romance and Sex) by Isabella Cummins Page B

the
background, and large bookshelves lined two of the walls, stacked to the brim
with hundreds of books of all shapes. Some were pulled out and then haphazardly
placed back on top of the others. A large Henry Moore print of three men draped
in cloaks had been mounted against a wall, and a bronze bust of Mozart stood on
a white pedestal next to it. There were no photos on the walls or his desk. The
office felt bare.
    She looked back
up at Davenport and found him sitting casually on his desk, scrutinizing her, a
hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
    “Like what you
see?”
    He had piercing
blue eyes and a day old stubble on his face. He wore a white, loose fitting
cotton shirt and jeans, the top of the shirt unbuttoned, revealing a smooth
chest.
    “Definitely,” she
answered without hesitation.
    Davenport
grinned, fine crow’s feet appearing next to his eyes as the smile spread across
his face. “Good answer.”
    Clarissa pouted
her lips seductively, then handed a leather-bound folder to him. “My CV and
portfolio of work.”
    Davenport held up
his hand and said, “Not necessary, you’re already hired.”
    Clarissa’s head
jerked up from the folder to meet his amused gaze. “But what about all the
other girls?” she asked with a frown. This was new, she hadn’t flashed him a
panty yet.
    He shrugged.
“They’re applying for a different position altogether.”
    He slid off the
table and ambled behind it, then pulled open a drawer and fumbled through the
contents for a while. “Ah, here it is,” he said and pushed a sheet of paper
across the table towards her.
    She picked it up
and skimmed the contents with a trained eye. Davenport had scribbled a
hand-written contract, scrawled in a barely legible cursive. She swallowed and
glanced up in shock, then back to the contract. Davenport was offering her a
post at the paper’s financial desk. As the fucking editor.
    She shook her
head, unable to comprehend the words on the piece of paper. “But how...,” she
stammered.
    She had expected
to be interviewed for a junior reporting position, a mere greenhorn, poised to
fight her way up the corporate ladder. And now she was being offered a position
which would have taken her years of hard work to achieve. She sat back, casting
him a suspicious frown. “What’s the catch?”
    Davenport leaned
back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, seemingly enjoying her
confused stare. “When I saw your CV on my table, I decided you were the right
person for the job.”
    He leaned forward
and steepled his fingers in front of him, a determined look on his face. “Your
article exposing the scholarship fraud was brilliant.” He grinned. “So I
followed up on it and it made headline news.”
    Clarissa looked
up in surprise. “I thought Dan Bishop, the editor, ran with the piece.”
    Davenport pursed
his lips, then slowly shook his head. “That dickhead?” he said with a derisive
snort. “I made the story work.” He shrugged. “And then I received a promotion
from the financial desk to Deputy Editor.” His chair squeaked as he leaned
back, gripping the armrests as if feeling the plush leather for the first time.
“Do you want it, or not?”
    Clarissa
swallowed and tucked her dark fringe behind her ear. “Yes, yes, definitely...,”
she stammered, trying to find the right words. “But I have no experience in any
of this...,”
    Davenport bounced
up and extended his hand. “Then we have a deal. Don’t worry about the
experience thing, I’m here to show you the ropes,” he said, then winked.
“Besides, you have more talent in your left pinky than Bishop has in his entire
over-inflated ego.”
    “But sir, how
will I...,” she said, taking his hand.
    Davenport
squeezed gently, then placed his other hand on top of hers. “Clarissa, I’ve
seen your grades. You’re the best Princeton has to offer. You’re perfect for this job.” He leaned forward. “And you’ve got talent, I’ve read your