Murano
“Huh, I got it,” Murano murmured into his toast.
His sister looked up from her laptop; a tired mess after an all-nighter for a university paper she had to send out within hours. They’d been nursing their coffees quietly at the old and chipped coffee table Murano refused to replace, just soaking up the morning sun and getting sustenance for the day.
“What did you get?”
Murano shoved his mobile in her face. “I have an interview with Bardin tomorrow. That was fast. HR must be desperate to fill the position. I only sent my application in yesterday.”
Lume squinted, her glasses halfway down her nose. “Bardin Media is looking for an Executive/Personal Assistant to support the CEO. The successful candidate will have strong communication and organisational skills and be ready to handle professional and personal tasks. Blah, blah, blah… adaptability to handle changing priorities and unexpected situations with poise and professionalism at all times.” She pushed the mobile back into his face. “Bro, that reads a bit like ‘Got sick kids or want some days off for your heat? Forget it. We only want single Betas. Everybody else, kindly fuck off’.”
He laughed and shrugged. “Well, it certainly does. How convenient that I am both single and beta.” He rubbed his neck, curls a thick mess. He had to get them cut off today and already mourned the loss, but he wouldn’t be able to tame them into a professional look that matched his CV photo so a chop would be necessary. “I can’t blame them, though. You’re the boss’ nanny, and taking three to five days off every month or so is simply inconvenient.”
Lume chewed thoughtfully. “True. But still…”
Murano checked his bank account, frowning at the dwindling numbers. He’d saved up a lot and, thanks to him and his sister co-sharing the apartment for the sake of her constantly broke student self, the living costs were okay for a central city location. He wouldn’t be able to afford another three months of idling around, however. And, frankly, he was already tired of staring at the walls.
“Honestly, this time, I don’t care as long as I get the job. It’s the most interesting and I’d love to work for this company. I'm not sad if, for once, I have an advantage.”
Lume hummed and shoved the rest of her croissant in her mouth, dismissive of Murano’s disapproval as her flakey mess littered the table, the floor, her chair, and just about anything surrounding her.
“Well, let's hope they want to pay you what you’re worth. The working hours for your last job sucked. I still don’t understand why you liked it so much.”
Murano shrugged and quietly sipped his black coffee. “I just really like to organise the messy lives of others, and the industry suits me.”
His sister sighed. She got up and enveloped him in a crumbly hug. “And I am so glad you do. Trust me. I appreciate everything you do.” She dropped back down and then shoved a finger in his face. “But don’t let them walk over you. And they better like you. Or else.”
He chuckled and answered the email, agreeing to the interview time. When he looked out the window of the tiny, well-loved-down apartment, he thought that maybe a fresh start wouldn’t be so bad after all. Murano still missed his old job and the rush of knowing the company and the needs of his boss inside out. He had navigated his days effortlessly and with a confidence he didn’t feel anymore. He hoped he would regain that. Eventually.
Murano checked the time and calculated how many hours of research he could cram into the day when he still had to iron his clothes and go out to get the big chop. He didn’t want to overdo it, get hyper-fixated, or do a full deep-dive, but a certain amount of background knowledge was expected, and he liked to be prepared.
“I’ll order pizza today. My treat. I think we’ll both need it.”
Lume groaned happily. “Oh my god, yesssss. I love you, big bro.”
He ruffled her hair, the same mousy brown as his but straight as an arrow, and walked into his bedroom, ready to get some homework done.
Amos
A headache throbbed like a sledgehammer behind his temples as he peeked out of his office windows and tried to relax for a few minutes. Amos had been sitting, and suffering, through interviews the whole morning and his mood was foul. So far, five people had been in. Two omegas on suppressants that still drowned the office in unwelcomed pheromones, one sassy young alpha, and two betas who were qualified but something just didn't feel right, and he was not going to hire another person if they didn't vibe.
“The last one for today is in the waiting area. Should I let him in?” the HR manager asked. Her tight mouth meant he’d get an earful later if this one also didn’t work out. And maybe the fancy coffee maker would vanish, as Han had already threatened to ignore his requests for drinks if he didn't finally start to like one of her choices.
“Yes, please.” Amos didn't bother with the documents. He knew they would be fine, or Han wouldn't have scheduled the interview. “And a coffee, please. A strong one.”
“Of course, Mr Bardin.”
She will definitely spit in my coffee, he thought.
A light knock on his door made him twirl around. His chair creaked ominously, and way too loudly for the sledgehammer turning his brain into painful goo.
The door closed almost silently behind a kid in too-big clothes, their back still to Amos. Amos scrambled for the documents to check the age. Han wouldn't make him hire a teenager, right?
“Hello, Mr Bardin. My name is Murano Riva. I am here for the—” the kid turned, looking stunned for a moment and oh, yeah, not so much a teenager.
Just… slim and very short.
He had mousy brown hair that must have been freshly cut - it looked like he’d forgotten what to do with a short crop to make it look not only decent but actually good. His eyes were large and round, as were his button nose and delicate chin. Everything about this kid screamed, “Cherub gone through teenage phase, suddenly in dire need of a job, because hanging out on clouds didn’t pay well.” His ill-fitting clothes were likely meant to make him look less twinky, but they just made him look tiny.
Amos towered over most people at almost 6’4”, but this guy would need a chair to look him straight in the eye.
“PA role. I’m aware,” Amos ground out, headache temporarily forgotten.
Murano, what an odd name.
Han chose that moment to barge in with a tray, a huff and two cups of coffee. The kid stayed by the door, unmoving and taking everything in like a minuscule hawk. He also stared at Amos longer than what would be considered socially acceptable, and Amos knew he'd have to ask all the undesirable and barely legal questions. He knew he was good-looking, but he needed a competent assistant, not another office fuck.
Han left the office with a curt nod and another ‘don’t you dare’ glare directed at Amos, the door shutting behind her with a firm click. Amos winced. The pint-sized guy walked over to his desk and carefully put his overcoat and bag on one of the chairs.
“Sir, do you have any allergies?”
Amos was slightly taken aback by the inquiry, it was not a question he expected or had ever heard in an interview. “No.”
Riva quickly rummaged through his bag, before going straight to the bar cabinet that was nestled in a corner of the office beside his beloved couch.
Jesus, please don’t let him make us drinks. I can’t handle another guy overstepping boundaries one minute after the door closes.
But he just watched as Riva crouched down; listening to light clicking sounds before the guy came back with a tumbler full of clear liquid.
“I hope you don't think I need vodka for this conversation — especially not this amount.”
A tablet blister and the glass were slowly slid across the table in his direction.
“Sir, for your headache. It’s just water and Tylenol.”
Amos looked puzzled, but Riva just sat down and waited quietly for him to do as told, which he did. Two tablets and a whole-ass glass of water later, he still looked stunned and said nothing. The guy started to fidget, the silence clearly making him uncomfortable.
“Sir, if I overstepped…” he started, but Amos stopped him. Was it too early to call Han to hire this one? Maybe he could start today.
“No… I’m a bit surprised. That’s all.” He fiddled with the printouts. “I didn’t read any of this because you were pre-screened by Han, which means I won’t have anything to complain about unless you completely fuck up. So, what do I really need to know?”
The kid’s eyes widened. Yeah, Amos wasn’t about to beat around the bush. If Riva wanted to work here, he’d have to get used to it fast.
“Umm… I worked for Osvaldo prior. Obviously, your HR team didn’t see an issue, but as he’s still a direct competitor, I think I should mention it since he’s also listed as one of my references.”
Huh. Amos looked down at the CV. It had barely been three months since the guy left Ozzie's company. “You didn’t sign a non-compete clause?” The references also listed Ozzie's personal phone number, which never happened. Ever.
“No, I didn’t have to.”
Amos was intrigued. “You wouldn’t tell me why you left, would you?”
Riva kept his face impassive, giving absolutely nothing away. “I don’t think it’s relevant. How is your headache?”
“That’s a bad way to change the topic, but it’s clearing up. Thank you.” Amos leant back and crossed his arms. “Beta?” His nose registered no pheromones at all, but that didn’t mean much these days.
The kid frowned. “You’re not allowed to ask that.”
“Sure, but the last PA I had decided to have his heat in my office, on my desk, ass up in the air, when I walked in with a client. So let me rephrase: Beta?”
Riva’s eyes widened slightly, but he remained stoic. “Beta. Never had my ass up in the air on an office desk, either. My salary requirements are on the second page.”
Amos laughed, then sobered when he saw the numbers. “That’s… a lot of confidence.” He looked up. “For a tiny beta.”
For the first time, a bit of the pleasant but impassive mask slipped off Riva’s face. “You had a very long list of requirements in your job description, and I can confidently say that I cover them one hundred per cent. But this is the price tag if you want me to make your life easier. Do you need to know anything else?”
“Why Bardin?” It was a standard question, but it was still one of the most important for Amos. He didn’t want to have to get used to another PA six months down the road, so having somebody on the team who was reliable and stable was one of the priorities.
“Osvaldo complained about you a lot. And that means you’re absolutely amazing in your field,” Riva said, shrugging with a tiny smile. Amos could imagine how much Ozzie had bitched about him and his company, but it was a big compliment coming from him, and Riva knew it as well.
“That we are. I… will have to make some calls before Han gets back to you. Please expect her call by the end of tomorrow. We don’t like to keep candidates waiting, so I’ll try to make this as quick as possible.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
The kid checked his watch, looking lost. “That’s the quickest and most superficial interview I’ve ever had.”
Amos stood up and walked around his desk, sitting down on the edge - way too close to Riva but not giving a damn. He needed to check for pheromones and see if the kid was attracted to him. But Riva continued looking impassive, only now with a slight tinge of unhappiness. “Look, kid… how old are you? 23?”
“Not a kid. I’m 28. As stated on the CV you didn’t read.” The beta stood up and could almost look him straight in the eye - as long as Amos sat hunched. Almost.
Ah, here come the claws. Amos liked them. They would be useful in fending off some of the hookups and partners he disliked. Generally, having a tiny chihuahua with a good set of teeth, biting some ankles, wasn’t a bad idea.
“I don’t like these bullshit interviews. I desperately need somebody who isn’t dumb, can handle the workload, and doesn’t make my life miserable. Do you still want the job? With all the requirements listed in the job description? I don’t need 90% of them. I need all.”
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Riva had already shrugged on his overcoat. He held out his hand. “I expect a call.”
Amos shook his hand. It was warm and dry, no sweaty anxiety showing. “It was a pleasure. Thank you for your time, Mr Riva.”
The beta left, and Amos waited almost a full minute before shoving his nose into his palm. No trace of pheromones. Nothing. Absolutely nothing, no trace of any scent. Weird. He rechecked the CV and yeah, it was impressive, and after the other five bullshit interviews, he could confidently say that he would have hired him blind just on the references.
Amos took one of the untouched, and already cold, coffee mugs and downed the bitter concoction. The interview hadn’t gone as planned and, by the end of the week, he might feel slightly embarrassed about it. Riva’s observational skills threw him for a loop, but he could see how this could unfold into having an amazingly efficient pint-sized shadow.
The energetic knocking of Han dragged him out of his thoughts.
“You’re stinking up the corridor, Amos.”
“I know. Sorry about that, but after the omegas you invited, I had to be sure.”
Han looked like she wanted to punch him. “We don’t discriminate.”
“Yeah, but I told you that I don’t want that problem again, and the two omegas you invited spread their pheromones like muck in the field the moment they entered my office. I detest it.”
“Did he react?”
“No. He gave me two Tylenol and the middle finger. What's more, his salary expectations are downright absurd.” He paused. “Please complete all documents. He starts next week.”
****
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