Chapter 3
1141 Words
The Interview
Camille’s POV
The receptionist smiled politely, barely glancing at me as she tapped something on her tablet.
“You can go in now,” she said, gesturing toward the tall, dark wooden door behind her.
My heart skipped. Just like that.
I stood, palms clammy despite the cold draft of the air-conditioned lobby. I gave her a quick nod of thanks and approached the door like I was walking into a lion’s den. I smoothed the fabric of my blazer—plain navy with a slight cinch at the waist—and inhaled slowly.
This is just a job interview, I told myself. Not a battlefield. Not heartbreak. Not betrayal. Just a chance.
I opened the door.
He was seated at the far end of the room, behind a massive glass desk that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread. The windows behind him stretched from floor to ceiling, revealing a view of New York’s skyline that momentarily stole my breath.
And then I looked at him.
Nathaniel King.
He looked like every rumor I’d heard walking in—cold, sharp, utterly in control. His jaw was tense, eyes unreadable, and the way he folded his fingers together as he watched me enter made me feel as if he already knew everything about me. I wasn’t sure if it was the tailored suit, the quiet power he exuded, or the fact that he didn’t smile—didn’t even blink—but my nerves doubled.
“Camille Hart?” he asked, voice low and cutting through the silence like steel.
“Yes, sir.” My voice held, thankfully.
“Sit.”
I obeyed, careful not to fidget as I perched on the edge of the leather chair across from him.
He glanced briefly at a file in front of him, likely my résumé, then returned his gaze to me. “Tell me. Why should I hire you?”
That was it?
No pleasantries. No ‘how are you today’. Straight to the kill.
Good. I’d rather get to the point.
I sat a little straighter. “Because I’m driven. I learn fast. And I won’t crumble under pressure.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Everyone says that.”
“Then let me prove it. You need someone who can keep up with you, who won’t waste your time, and who knows how to stay invisible when necessary—but can step up when needed.”
He leaned back, silent. Studying me.
I felt his gaze rake over me—not in a leering way, but like he was measuring everything. My tone. My posture. Whether I flinched.
“I assume you’ve done your research about the position?” he asked finally.
“I have.”
“Then you know I’ve fired three assistants this year.”
“I heard.”
“And you still applied?”
I let a small smile curve my lips. “That’s exactly why I did.”
A beat of silence passed.
Then, something unexpected. The corner of his mouth twitched—just the smallest movement. Almost like amusement. Almost.
He stood.
“Congratulations, Miss Hart. You’re hired.”
Just like that?
My heart thudded. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
“Let’s hope not,” he said, already turning back to the window. “You start tomorrow. Seven A.M. sharp. No excuses.”
---
Nathaniel’s POV
She had fire.
I didn’t expect that.
Most women who walked through that door wilted under pressure, especially once they learned I wasn’t one for polite games or small talk. But Camille Hart sat straight, spoke clearly, and didn’t blink when I pushed.
She didn’t reek of desperation. She didn’t try to charm me. She didn’t giggle or cower.
She showed up.
It was impressive.
Not that I hired her because of that alone. Her qualifications were solid, and her work history showed resilience. But the real reason? She didn’t flinch when I said I’d fired three people already.
That meant something.
People who flinch c***k later. I don’t have time for cracks.
I glanced at her file again as the door shut behind her. She’d left a faint trail of perfume—something warm and clean, like vanilla and ambition.
Interesting combination.
---
Camille’s POV
I all but floated out of that room.
As soon as I stepped into the corridor, I pulled out my phone and dialed Elena.
She picked up after one ring. “Camille?”
“I got the job,” I whispered, grinning like an i***t.
“Oh my God! Are you serious?”
“I’m so serious I’m about to cry. He hired me. I start tomorrow.”
I heard her squeal from across the city. “I’m so proud of you! This is your fresh start, Cam. New York, new boss, new life.”
I exhaled. “Yeah. About that—”
“What?”
“I… don’t have a place to stay yet.”
She paused. “Oh crap.”
“I didn’t want to jinx it. I didn’t think I’d actually get it.”
“Okay, okay. You have options. You’re staying in that budget hotel now, right?”
“Yeah, but I can’t afford it for more than a few nights.”
There was a moment of silence, then she said, “Hang on. Let me call you back.”
I didn’t even have time to protest before the line went dead.
Ten minutes later, she texted me an address and a name: Jada Monroe.
Friend from college. She lives in Brooklyn. Spare room. You’re covered, just call her now!
Relief swelled in my chest.
I texted Jada, and within twenty minutes, she replied that I was welcome to stay for a few weeks while I found my footing. She even offered to send her cousin to help me move.
When I got back to the hotel, I packed my suitcase quickly. There wasn’t much to gather—just the few essentials I’d brought for what I thought would be a short visit.
The cab ride to Brooklyn was quiet. The skyline faded into brownstones and rows of tidy, narrow buildings. Jada’s apartment was on the second floor of a quiet street, above a coffee shop that smelled like heaven.
She opened the door with a warm smile, arms outstretched.
“You must be Camille! Any friend of Elena’s is a friend of mine. Come in, girl.”
I blinked. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Inside, the place was small but cozy. Clean. Lived-in in the best way. Her spare room had a bed, a little desk, and a window that let in afternoon light.
It felt… safe.
As I settled in, I glanced out the window and whispered to myself, “Don’t screw this up, Camille.”
Tomorrow would be the real test.
- Writer
