Chapter Two: The man in the suit
602 Words
The next morning, the sky was all pale silver and sharp sunlight. Maya stood outside the mirrored glass of a downtown office tower, clutching her portfolio like a shield. Her scarf was missing — she hadn’t realized until she was halfway to the interview. It made her strangely uneasy, like she'd left a part of herself behind.
She shook the thought off. She needed to focus.
Inside, the lobby was cold and clinical — a wide marble floor, high ceilings, and the smell of money and floor polish. People passed her with purpose, heels clicking, watches glinting. Maya smoothed her jacket, checked the time again, and approached the receptionist.
“Good morning, I’m here for the marketing assistant interview — Maya Bennett.”
The receptionist barely looked up. “Tenth floor. Have a seat. Someone will call you.”
Maya sat on a stiff leather bench across from the elevators, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She tried to steady her breathing. It was a long shot, she knew — the company was prestigious, the office intimidating. She probably didn’t even fit their image.
Just as she started to second-guess everything, the elevator chimed.
A man stepped out, phone in one hand, black coat folded neatly over the other arm. Tall. Immaculate. Dark gray suit, polished shoes, sharp jawline. His face was all symmetry and distance.
He didn’t notice her — not at first.
He was too busy scrolling through emails, walking with the kind of authority that turned heads. Maya stood instinctively, preparing to ask where she should go next. But as she rose, her elbow knocked her coffee off the bench.
The paper cup rolled in slow motion — straight toward him.
A splash. A curse. A brown stain blooming across the front of his coat.
Maya gasped. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”
The man froze. His phone was safe, but his coat was ruined.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she repeated, reaching for tissues from her bag. “It slipped— I didn’t see— I’ll pay to clean it—”
He held up a hand. “It’s fine.”
His voice was clipped, low. Controlled.
But his eyes — when they finally met hers — flickered. Just for a second.
She handed him tissues anyway. He took them, reluctantly, wiping the fabric with a practiced indifference.
“Really, I didn’t mean—”
“I said it’s fine,” he said, more softly this time. Then he looked at her properly, as if seeing her for the first time.
Maya felt her cheeks burn. There was no warmth in his expression. No kindness. Just... calculation.
He turned away and walked toward the front desk. “Tell Clara to reschedule the eleven o’clock. And get this coat to dry cleaning.”
The receptionist jumped to obey.
Maya stood awkwardly by the bench, clutching her portfolio tighter. Maybe this had been a mistake.
As she began to sit down again, the man turned slightly.
“You’re here for the marketing position?”
She blinked. “Yes.”
He said nothing at first — just studied her for a beat too long.
“Good luck.”
Then he walked away.
The elevator doors slid closed behind him with a soft, final sound.
Maya sat there, stunned. Not just by the mess she’d made, or the tension in his voice — but by the strange feeling in her chest. That man, whoever he was, didn’t see her at first. But when he did, it was as if... he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop looking.
- Writer
