THE GIRL WHO SMILED AT THE DEVIL...
965 Words
Amara Cole was late.
Not terribly late.
Just late enough to make her question every decision that had led her to this exact moment.
She stood outside the enormous glass building of Blackwood Holdings, clutching her bag tightly while staring at the company name displayed across the front.
Her interview had been scheduled for nine o'clock.
It was now eight fifty-seven.
“Three minutes,” she whispered to herself. “Three minutes is enough time to save your future.”
She rushed toward the entrance.
Behind her, a black luxury car stopped.
The building security guards immediately straightened.
A group of employees entering the building suddenly moved aside.
Amara noticed none of it.
She was too busy trying to stop herself from falling.
Her heel slipped slightly against the smooth marble floor.
“Oh!”
A strong hand caught her elbow before she could hit the ground.
Amara blinked.
Then looked up.
The first thing she noticed was the suit.
Dark.
Perfectly tailored.
Expensive enough to probably pay her brother's university fees for several years.
Then she noticed the watch.
Then the face.
And suddenly, Amara forgot how to breathe.
The man standing in front of her was painfully attractive.
Not in the friendly, approachable way.
No.
His face was sharp and cold. His expression looked permanently irritated. His dark eyes held absolutely no warmth.
He looked at her as if she were an inconvenience.
“Watch where you're going,” he said.
Amara immediately frowned.
Excuse me?
She pulled her arm away.
“You were the one standing in my path.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Was I?”
“Yes.”
A silence followed.
Amara stared at him.
He stared back.
The people around them looked as though the entire world had stopped spinning.
Nobody spoke to Damian Blackwood that way.
Nobody.
Amara, however, had absolutely no idea who he was.
She crossed her arms.
“And thank you for catching me.”
Damian raised one eyebrow.
“You're welcome.”
“Although,” she added, “you could have been nicer about it.”
His expression became even colder.
“I wasn't aware I was required to be nice.”
“Well, now you know.”
And with that, Amara walked away.
Damian Blackwood stood completely still.
For several seconds.
His assistant slowly approached him.
“Sir?”
Damian looked toward the direction the woman had disappeared.
“Who was that?”
His assistant looked confused.
“I'll find out.”
“Do that.”
Amara arrived at the interview room exactly one minute before nine.
She sat among six other candidates, all dressed perfectly.
One woman wore an expensive designer suit.
Another had years of experience working for a major company.
Amara suddenly felt underqualified.
Maybe this had been a mistake.
She needed a job desperately, but working for Blackwood Holdings had always seemed like an impossible dream.
The salary alone could change her life.
Noah needed school fees.
Their apartment rent was approaching.
She had bills.
Dreams.
Responsibilities.
Failure was not an option.
One by one, the candidates were called inside.
Eventually, Amara's name was announced.
She stood.
Smiled.
And walked inside.
Then stopped.
Because sitting at the end of the conference table was the man from downstairs.
The rude man.
The cold man.
The man who had acted as if smiling would personally destroy him.
Amara slowly turned toward the interviewer.
Then back toward him.
“You.”
Damian looked equally unimpressed.
“You.”
The interviewer looked between them.
“You two know each other?”
“No,” they both answered.
At the same time.
Amara narrowed her eyes.
Damian leaned back in his chair.
“Miss Cole,” one interviewer said, “this is Mr. Damian Blackwood.”
Amara froze.
Oh.
Oh no.
She looked at him again.
CEO....?
That was the CEO.
The CEO she had just insulted downstairs.
The CEO whose company she desperately needed to work for.
Her smile became slightly forced.
“Mr. Blackwood."
“Miss Cole.”
“I didn't realize—”
“I know.”
She inhaled.
For the first time that morning, Amara was speechless.
The interview continued.
And somehow, despite Damian's intimidating presence, Amara did well.
She answered every question.
She spoke about her ambitions.
Her experience.
Her ability to work under pressure.
At one point, Damian asked, “What do you think is the most important quality an assistant should have?”
Amara looked directly at him.
“Honesty.”
His eyes remained on her.
“Why?”
“Because if my employer is wrong, I should be able to tell them.”
One interviewer nearly choked.
Damian's face remained expressionless.
“You would tell your employer he was wrong?”
“If he was wrong, yes.”
“And if your employer didn't like it?”
“Then I suppose he'd have to learn how to deal with disappointment.”
Silence.
Again.
Amara wondered if she had just destroyed her chances.
But then—
Damian smiled.
It was barely there.
A small movement.
Almost nothing.
But it changed his entire face.
And Amara stared.
Because somehow, that small smile was more dangerous than his anger.
“Congratulations, Miss Cole,” Damian said.
She blinked.
“What?”
“You're hired.”
The other interviewers stared at him.
“Sir, we haven't—”
“I've made my decision.”
Amara stared at him.
“You're serious?”
“No. I often hire people as a joke.”
She frowned.
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“Your personality problem.”
Damian's eyes darkened.
“Be in my office at eight tomorrow morning.”
Amara smiled sweetly.
“Yes, boss.”
And for some reason, Damian hated how much he liked hearing that.
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