THE MAFIA'S KITTEN

EPISODE 4: THE INTERVIEW

​The waiting area of the Dark Dragon’s main headquarters looked more like a five-star hotel than an office. The floors were polished marble, and the air smelled like expensive perfume and fresh coffee. But despite the luxury, the tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

​About twenty people were crammed into the velvet chairs, all waiting for the chance to become the personal assistant to the most powerful man in the city. On one side, a group of women were whispering loudly, constantly checking their makeup in small hand mirrors. They were dressed in bright colors, wearing heavy jewelry and enough perfume to make anyone dizzy.

​"I definitely have this in the bag," one woman said, reapplying a thick layer of pink lipstick. "I spent four hours on my hair today. The Boss likes things that look good, and look at me—I’m a masterpiece. Effort always wins."

​On the other side, the men were clutching leather briefcases, looking down their noses at the women. They were busy adjusting their ties and bragging about their education. "Looking nice won't get you past the front door," one man sneered, patting his folder. "I have a master’s degree from the best university and five years of experience. This isn't a beauty pageant; it’s a high-stakes business. My certificates speak for themselves."

​The bickering continued, with everyone trying to act more important than the person sitting next to them. They were so focused on themselves that they didn't notice the room go quiet when the elevator doors opened.

​Click. Click. Click.

​The soft, steady sound of high heels echoed against the marble walls. It wasn't a rushed sound; it was slow, rhythmic, and full of power. Every head in the room turned.

​First, they saw a pair of long, shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. Their eyes followed the legs up to the owner. She was wearing a mid-length black skirt that hugged her curves perfectly, paired with a crisp white shirt. She had left the top few buttons open, giving just a tiny, teasing peak at her cleavage, covered by a black suit jacket that she left unbuttoned.

​She wore a small pair of glasses on her face that made her look sharp, smart, and professional. Her hair was pulled back into a neat low bun, fastened with a silver hairpin at the side. She didn't look like she was trying too hard, yet she looked better than everyone in the room combined.

​She walked with a level of confidence that made people move out of her way without even being asked. As she passed the long queue of people who had been waiting for hours, her red lips broke into a tiny, mocking smirk. She didn't stop at the end of the line. She didn't even look at the receptionist. She walked straight to the large oak door labeled "HR MANAGER."

​"Hey! You can't go in there!" one of the women shouted, but the Goddess didn't even turn her head. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

​Inside the office, the scene was even more chaotic. A fat man in a tight suit—the HR Manager—was sitting behind a massive desk. Standing right next to him was a woman who clearly wasn't there for an interview. She was leaning over his desk, showing off her dress and whispering in his ear, trying to seduce him into giving her the job.

​Both of them jumped and turned around, shock written all over their faces.

​"Who the hell are you?" the fat man demanded, his face turning red. "I’m in the middle of a private session! Get out and wait your turn like everyone else!"

​The Goddess didn't move. She didn't look bothered by his shouting at all. She walked right up to the desk, ignoring the angry woman standing there.

​"I’m here to resume," she said. Her voice was calm, but it had a command in it that made the man stop yelling.

​"Resume? You haven't even been interviewed!" the woman snapped, crossing her arms. "Look at you, barging in here like you own the place. Leave now before I call security."

​The Goddess finally looked at her, her eyes cold behind the glasses. "I wasn't talking to the furniture. I was talking to the man who is about to make the best decision of his life." She turned back to the manager and threw a thick manila file onto his desk. "I have all the qualifications you need. Actually, I have more than you can handle. I’m your best bet if you want to keep your own job after the Boss sees the idiots you’ve been interviewing all morning. Here is my resume."

​The man was stunned. Nobody had ever spoken to him like that. He looked at the file, then at the Goddess, then back at the file. Out of pure curiosity, he opened it.

​His eyes widened as he started reading. The documents inside were perfect. They showed she spoke five languages, had a background in high-level security, and had worked for billionaires in Europe. (Of course, it was all fake, created by the Night Owl, but it looked more real than anything the man had ever seen.)

​"This... this says you worked for the Sterling Group?" the man stuttered, his anger completely gone.

​"I did," she lied smoothly. "And I left because they weren't challenging enough. I heard the Dark Dragon boss needs someone who can handle real pressure. Someone who can think three steps ahead of everyone else. Tell me, can any of those people outside do that?"

​The woman standing by the desk realized she was losing. "She’s lying! It’s probably all fake. Sir, don't listen to her!"

​Suddenly, a hidden intercom on the desk buzzed. A deep, gravelly voice came through the speaker, making everyone in the room freeze. It was a voice that sounded like it came from the depths of the earth—cold, powerful, and terrifying.

​"Send her up."

​The HR manager turned pale. "B-but Boss, I haven't finished the preliminary rounds..."

​"I said, send her up. Now." The intercom went dead.

​The Goddess smirked again. She didn't wait for the manager to give her permission. She picked up her handbag and turned toward the door. As she passed the "seductive" woman, she leaned in and whispered, "Next time, try wearing a brain. It’s more attractive than that cheap dress."

​She walked out of the office, leaving the manager sweating and the other woman shaking with rage. As she stepped back into the waiting area, everyone stared at her, wondering what had happened. She ignored them all and walked straight to the private executive elevator that led to the top floor—the Dragon’s Den.

​As the elevator doors closed, she took off her glasses and wiped them. Her heart was beating a little faster, but not because of fear. The voice on the intercom had sparked something in her. It was the voice of the man she was sent to kill.

​The elevator climbed higher and higher, leaving the regular world behind. When the doors finally opened, she was standing in a massive penthouse office. The walls were all glass, showing the entire city below.

​At the far end of the room, a large black leather chair was turned away from her, facing the window. The smell of expensive cigars filled the air.

​"You have a lot of nerve, little girl," the voice said again, but this time it wasn't through a speaker. It was right there in the room with her.

​The chair slowly began to spin around. The Blood Goddess tightened her grip on her bag, where her needle-thin blade was hidden. The mission had officially begun.

​TBC...