Bound to the cold ceo

Chapter one-The interview

I wasn’t supposed to be late, atleast not today of all days. Not when I knew this interview could be a game changer. My alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed too and the bus arrived late. My heart pounded as I rushed into Kingston Corp, every step i took reminded me of my mothers medical bills and many other bill i was supposed to settle before the end of the month.

The lobby looked really shiny, like something out of a dream, too perfect for someone like me. My shoes clicked against the polished floor as I hurried to the elevator, holding my bag tightly as though it held my whole future inside. For a moment, I caught my reflection in the silver doors, messy hair, flushed cheeks, nervous eyes. I whispered to myself, “You can do this, Amara.”

And then it happened.

My body struck something hard....no, someone hard and something hot spilled down my wrist.

I froze.

“Oh my God!” I said, staring at the coffee stain on the spotlessly white shirt and black Armani suit of the man standing in front of me.

He never even blinked. He turned slowly around, like a predator calculating his prey. His jaw was set, his face, every detail as magnificent as possible, and his eyes, grey, stormy, merciless, locked onto mine.

My heart dropped to my stomach.

“I....I’m so sorry,” I stammered, fishing in my purse for tissues. My hands were shaking. My voice was breaking. “I didn’t see you.......”

“Obviously,” he said in a cut, deep, authoritative voice. He moved back and looked down at the spreading stain as if I had ruined the whole world. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

My cheeks burned. My chest tightened. People passing through the lobby slowed down, whispering as they passed.

“I’ll pay for dry cleaning......”

"He laughed, the sound cold and humorless. 'Dry cleaning? This suit costs more than your monthly rent.'"

“Anger burned through my shame. My rent might be cheap, but that was none of his business. Who the hell did he think he was, talking down to me like that?”

I lifted my chin. “It was an accident. I apologized. What else do you want?”

“His eyes narrowed, studying me like he knew who i was. Just when I thought he might snap, he spoke, his voice flat and unreadable:”

“Women like you shouldn’t be allowed in buildings like this.”

The words cut sharper than a knife. My throat tightened, but I refused to let him see me break.

I threw the tissues at him and forced myself to walk away, praying he wouldn’t see the tears forming in my eyes.

The receptionist gave me a tight smile as I hurried toward the elevators, trying not to think about the stain I had left on that man’s suit, or the way his voice still echoed in my head. I had replayed the occurrence several times in my head, each version worse that the previous one.

Women like you shouldn’t be allowed in buildings like this.

Who even said things like that? Arrogant. Cruel. And so infuriatingly confident.

I pressed the button for the twentieth floor, my palms still sweaty around the folder of my résumé and cover letter. I had been preparing for this interview for weeks, rehearsing answers, ironing my one good blouse, convincing myself I could do this.

Now all I could think about was how I’d already made a fool of myself before even stepping into the room.

The elevator chimed, I stepped out following the path to the conference room. My heart thudded painfully as i pushed the door open.

Three people sat at the long table. Two women with laptops open, and a man at the head of the table.......

I gasped, too shocked to move.

It was him.

The man from the lobby. The man whose suit I had ruined. The man who had looked at me like I was trash.

He leaned back in his chair, jacket neatly spread across the backrest now, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His expression didn’t flicker when our eyes met. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitched, as if amused.

“You’re late,” he said simply.

I swallowed hard, holding on to my folder like a shield. “The bus........”

“Excuses,” he cut in, his voice smooth and cold. “Sit down.”

Heat rushed to my face as I did what he said, slipping into the chair across from him. The two women exchanged a glance, then looked at me, their faces giving nothing away.

He tapped a pen against the table. “Name.”

“Amara Williams,” I said, my voice smaller than I intended.

“Good morning, Amara,” the man said, looking at my resume. “I see you have experience in administration. Tell us, why Kingston Corp?”

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady. “I… I want to grow professionally. I want to learn from the best and contribute meaningfully. I admire the company’s vision and want to be part of it.”

The woman tilted her head. “Admire our vision, huh? That’s a good answer, but what makes you different from the hundreds of candidates we see every day?”

I took a deep breath, my hands curling around my bag strap. “I work hard. I never give up, even when the odds are against me. I care about the people I work for, and I learn quickly. I… I just want a chance.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “A chance? That’s all it takes to impress us?”

I nodded, cheeks burning. “Yes. I know I can do more than just handle tasks. I want to prove myself.”

He hummed like he was tasting the syllables. “Amara. Tell me... why do you think you’re qualified to work here?”

I Blinked. That wasn’t the usual ice breaker, no ‘tell us about yourself,’ no ‘why do you want this job.’ He was cutting straight to the chase”

“I......” My throat tightened, but I forced myself to speak. “I’ve studied business administration. I worked as an assistant for two years at a smaller firm, managing schedules, preparing reports, coordinating meetings. I’m organized, adaptable, and I don’t give up easily.”

His eyes locked onto mine. “Don’t give up easily, hmm?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You already look like you’re about to cry.”

A murmur of laughter slipped from one of the women at the table.

Shame burned through me, but underneath it, i felt something different, anger. I clenched my hands in my lap, steadying my voice. “I’m not going to cry. And if you’re trying to intimidate me, it won’t work. I need this job too much to back down.”

For the first time, his expression shifted. Just slightly. His gaze sharpened, assessing me like I had just surprised him.

Then, without looking away from me, he told the others, “Leave us.”

The women exchanged glances but obeyed, gathering their laptops and walking out of the room.

The door closed shut, leaving me alone with him. My heart hammered in my chest.

The silence was unbearable. His gaze pinned me to the chair.

“I don’t like being kept waiting, Miss Williams,” he said at last, his voice low but sharp. “And I especially don’t like… accidents.”

Heat crawled up my neck. He’s still talking about the coffee. Of course he is.

“I said I was sorry,” I whispered, gripping the folder in my lap.

His lips curved, but there was no warmth in it. “Sorry doesn’t erase stains. Or incompetence.”

Something in me snapped. I had come here desperate for a job, but I wasn’t going to sit here and let him shred me apart like I was worthless.

I lifted my chin. “With all due respect, Mr…?”

“Kingston,” he said coolly. “Damian Kingston. CEO of Kingston Global.”

My insides twisted. CEO. Of course. Because my life wasn’t already disastrous enough.

I swallowed hard but pushed forward. “With all due respect, Mr. Kingston, everyone makes mistakes. I won’t deny mine. But that doesn’t mean I can’t work hard, or that I don’t deserve a chance.”

The silence that followed was thick. He studied me, his grey eyes were unreadable, like he was trying to decide whether to crush me or keep toying with me.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair. “You’ve got fire. I’ll give you that.”

I blinked, uncertain if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.

Then he dropped the bomb.

“Congratulations, Miss Williams. You’re hired.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“You start tomorrow. Eight sharp. Don’t be late again.”

My mouth opened, then closed. “You can’t be serious. You practically hate me.”

His smirk deepened. “I don’t hire people I like. I hire people who amuse me.”

My pulse spiked. This wasn’t how interviews worked. This wasn’t how anything worked. But before I could argue, he stood, straightening his cuffs, exuding control and dominance like he owned not just the building but the air I was breathing.

“Consider yourself on probation,” he added. “Impress me, and maybe you’ll last longer than a week.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving me stunned, furious, and trembling in my seat.

I didn’t know whether to scream, cry, or laugh at the absurdity of it all.

All I knew was this: I had just gotten a job under the coldest, most arrogant man I had ever met.

And something told me… my life was about to turn into a battlefield.