Bad First Impressions
1341 Words
***Ivy Carters POV"
I stood outside De Luca Holdings for another five full seconds after the arrogant psychopath disappeared inside.
Five whole seconds.
Just staring.
The black card still sat inside my file like it paid rent there.
“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “We’re not thinking about him anymore.”
“We’re going to nail this,” I added under my breath before finally turning toward the entrance.
The second I stepped inside the building, I immediately understood something important:
Poor people and rich people did not breathe the same air.
Because what the hell was this place?
The lobby alone looked more expensive than my entire existence.
White marble floors polished enough to see your reflection in. Massive crystal lights hanging from the ceiling. A waterfall wall stretched across one side of the room while soft piano music played somewhere in the background like everyone here woke up moisturized and financially stable.
Meanwhile, I was one mental breakdown away from fighting a puddle.
I tightened my grip on my file and walked toward the front desk carefully.
The receptionist looked terrifyingly pretty, like the kind of pretty that came from drinking green juice and never experiencing stress.
She smiled politely. “Good morning. Name?”
My brain stalled for a second.
“Ivy Carter. I’m here for the interview at nine.”
Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard before she nodded.
That was when I noticed her name tag.
Gracia.
“Twenty-third floor.”
Twenty-third?
Of course rich people worked near the clouds.
“Thank you.”
I turned toward the elevators, trying not to look nervous.
Keyword:
Trying.
A group of employees in tailored suits stepped in beside me while discussing stock numbers and meetings I definitely couldn’t afford to understand.
I quietly stood in the corner, smoothing invisible wrinkles from my blazer while whispering under my breath,
“Please let this go well.”
“Please let this go well.”
“Please—”
The elevator doors suddenly opened again before closing, and my entire soul almost left my body.
Black gloves, dark suit, light-brown eyes.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
The arrogant fool stepped into the elevator without sparing me a glance.
The entire atmosphere shifted instantly.
The conversations stopped.
Actually stopped.
The people around us straightened subtly like his presence alone demanded it.
Nobody smiled.
Nobody spoke.
One man nearly dropped his tablet trying to move out of Matteo’s way.
I still didn’t understand why people moved instinctively around him both here and outside.
Probably fear.
Matteo stood beside me silently while scrolling through something on his phone.
Meanwhile, my brain had chosen violence.
Because why did he smell so good?
No seriously.
Why?
That should’ve been illegal for someone with that personality.
I stared straight ahead at the glowing elevator numbers while observing the ridiculous amount of space created for him while the rest of us were squeezed together.
I let out a dramatic sigh.
Naturally, I stepped into the empty space immediately.
“You know there’s space over there, right?” I said, glancing toward the others. “Why are you all packed together like sardines?”
A few awkward murmurs followed instantly.
The strange tension in the elevator somehow got even worse.
Actually… never mind.
I slowly turned toward him.
“This place was actually lively before you stepped in,” I muttered quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.
I could physically feel the tension in the elevator, and somehow that annoyed me more than him.
Nobody breathed normally around this man.
It was weird, annoyingly weird.
Then his voice cut through the silence calmly.
“You cleaned the stain.”
Every head in the elevator turned toward me immediately.
I blinked.
Excuse me?
He was still staring at his phone.
Like he hadn’t just randomly started a conversation after acting mute outside.
“You speak?” I asked before I could stop myself.
One of the men behind him coughed violently into his fist.
I heard another person suck in a breath.
Oops.
He finally looked at me then, and somehow his eyes looked even worse up close.
Not worse ugly.
Worse dangerous.
“You’re sarcastic,” he observed calmly.
“You’re rude,” I shot back instantly.
The elevator somehow became even quieter.
If silence could scream, this one was yelling.
But to my surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
Like he was trying not to smile.
Oh.
So now he had facial expressions.
And honestly?
That irritated me more than it should have.
The elevator dinged loudly.
Twenty-third floor.
Thank God.
The doors opened and I stepped out immediately like I was escaping captivity.
I didn’t look back.
Didn’t care if he was watching.
Didn’t care—
“Ivy!”
I turned quickly at the sound of my name.
A blonde woman hurried toward me holding a clipboard. “Interview for the assistant position?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect. Come with me.”
I followed beside her through a hallway so fancy it felt disrespectful.
Glass offices lined both sides. Employees moved around quickly with tablets and coffee cups while giant city windows overlooked downtown Manhattan.
I accidentally caught sight of myself in one of the glass walls.
God.
I still looked stressed.
“Relax,” the blonde woman laughed softly. “You’re not the only nervous applicant today.”
“Oh good,” I sighed dramatically. “Nothing builds confidence like competition.”
She smiled. “I’m Rachel.”
“Ivy.”
“Well, Ivy, you’re lucky.”
“Why?”
“The interview panel is in a surprisingly good mood today.”
“That sentence somehow scares me.”
Rachel laughed quietly before stopping outside a large conference room.
“Just wait here for a few minutes, okay?”
I nodded.
The second she walked away, I exhaled deeply and dropped into one of the waiting chairs.
Okay.
Breathe.
This was just an interview.
A normal interview.
Not life or death.
Not terrifying.
Totally manageable.
The conference room doors suddenly opened.
A woman walked out looking like she’d just survived emotional warfare.
Well.
That was comforting.
Another applicant beside me leaned closer.
“Do you know who owns this company?”
I shook my head slightly. “Some billionaire?”
The girl laughed nervously.
“That’s Matteo De Luca.”
Even the name sounded expensive.
Before I could ask another question, Rachel returned.
“Ivy? They’re ready for you.”
I stood so quickly my heel nearly betrayed me before immediately following Rachel toward the conference room doors while mentally preparing myself not to embarrass my bloodline.
The doors opened slowly.
Three people sat inside.
Two older men.
And—
Oh, absolutely not.
I stopped walking.
There he was, sitting at the center of the table calmly flipping through my resume like he hadn’t ruined my morning two hours ago.
My brain actually short-circuited.
Rachel blinked beside me. “Ivy?”
I recovered quickly.
Barely.
“S-Sorry.”
Finally, he looked up.
And there it was again.
That unreadable look.
Like he already knew something I didn’t.
“Miss Carter,” one of the older men smiled politely. “Please sit.”
I sat carefully while trying not to look directly at him.
Which was difficult.
Because I could literally feel him watching me.
One of the interviewers adjusted his glasses.
“Tell us a little about yourself.”
Easy.
Normal question.
You practiced this.
My hands were already betraying me.
“My name is Ivy Carter. I graduated two years ago with a degree in business administration, and—”
“You’re nervous.”
I stopped speaking immediately.
Slowly, I turned toward him.
He sat back lazily in his chair, light-brown eyes fixed directly on me.
My eye twitched slightly.
“No,” I lied.
A pause stretched across the room.
The silence that followed felt almost deliberate.
Meanwhile, I stared at him in complete confusion.
Because what exactly was wrong with this man?
- Writer
