THE INTERVIEW
1198 Words
The elevator doors slid open with a whisper, and Nicholas stepped into the top floor of Kade Industries. The morning sun hit the floor-to-ceiling windows, coloring the office in sharp gold. He ignored the view. He had built this kingdom brick by brick, but beauty meant nothing to him now. Only power. Only power.
His helper rushed to his side with a tablet. “Sir, the final interviews for the executive analyst position begin in fifteen minutes. Would you like me to handle them?”
“No,” he said flatly, his voice edged with order. “I’ll handle them myself.”
The assistant blinked. “You? Personally?”
Nicholas’s icy blue eyes didn’t falter. “If someone is going to step into my empire, they answer to me first. Always.”
He brushed past, his footsteps precise, deadly. But inside, a restlessness curled in his chest like a snake. Word had already reached him: Amarae Grayson was back in New York. The girl with her father’s eyes. The daughter of the man who had hurt him most.
His jaw clenched. Fate was cruel. He had buried her ghost years ago, and now she dared to walk into his city again. He didn’t believe in chances.
The interviews started like any other. Candidates filed unpolished smiles, prepared answers, fragile desire. Nicholas cut through their façades with a few sharp questions, watching them collapse under his gaze. None impressed him.
Then the final candidate entered.
For a split second, Nicholas thought the world was mocking him.
Dark hair pinned back neatly, eyes burning with restrained fire, and a stance that spoke of rebellion masked as grace.
Amarae Grayson.
She introduced herself with a quiet, steady voice, using a different last name. But he recognized her instantly. He could never forget the girl whose tears had stained her father’s suit the day Charles Grayson fell.
He leaned back in his chair, studying her like prey that had walked freely into his den.
“Tell me,” Nicholas said, his tone seemingly smooth, “why do you want to work at Kade Industries?”
Her lips curved faintly. “Because I don’t believe in ordinary goals. I believe in difficulties. And I hear you don’t do anything easy.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. Bold. Too bold.
“Most people,” he answered, “would say I make things impossible.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m here,” she replied, her eyes steady on his.
Something in his chest twisted, an old ache stirring. She was smarter than before, but her fire was the same.
He tapped his pen against the desk, never breaking eye contact. “You’re confident.”
“Confidence is necessary,” she said. “Without it, people get eaten alive in this city.”
“And you?” His voice dropped lower. “Do you think you can survive being eaten alive?”
Her throat bobbed, but she didn’t look away. “I didn’t come here to survive. I came here to win.”
The words hit him harder than he expected. A flash of memory stabbed at himCharles Grayson in an office, smiling that same defiant smile, seconds before everything fell.
Nicholas pushed the picture down. He had learned long ago that memories were poison.
Still, his curiosity sharpened. She hadn’t fallen. Not once. She carried herself like a woman who had walked through fire and came out with steel in her bones.
He leaned forward slightly, his voice silk and steel. “Tell me, Miss…?”
“Grey,” she said quickly. “Amarae Grey.”
He smiled coldly. “Grey. How handy. A name washed of color, washed of past. Almost as if you’re trying to hide something.”
Her fingers squeezed against her portfolio, almost imperceptibly. But Nicholas noticed everything.
“I’m hiding nothing,” she said evenly.
“Lies,” he whispered softly, so only she could hear.
Her eyes expanded slightly, before narrowing again. “Then test me. Ask me whatever you want.”
And so he did. For nearly an hour, Nicholas threw question after question, twisting reasoning, pushing her into walls, cutting at every flaw he could find. Yet she dodged, countered, and adapted. She didn’t break.
At one point, he asked, “What’s your greatest weakness?”
Her lips quivered slightly. “That I don’t tolerate liars.”
His brows arched. “Interesting. Most people lie to survive.”
“I’m not most people.”
Their gazes locked, a silent war sparking between them.
Nicholas should have finished it. Should have dismissed her with a flick of his hand. But something inside himsomething dark, something dangerous kept pulling him closer. He wanted to see how far she could go. How far he would let her go.
In the middle of the conversation, something unexpected happened.
Nicholas dropped a paper on the table. A fake report from years ago the very report that had been used to bury Charles Grayson’s career.
Her hand froze as she reached for it, her fingers white. Her mask slipped just for a second, sadness flashing raw across her face.
Nicholas saw it.
And for the first time in years, he felt something other than power. He felt ashamed.
But it was gone in an instant, replaced by doubt. If she was here, she wanted something. And if she wanted something, he would drag it out of her.
He stood suddenly, moving around the desk until he was standing dangerously close to her.
“You’re interesting,” he said softly, almost like a confession. “Too interesting. Women like you don’t just walk into my office by chance.”
Her breath caught, but her chin lifted. “Maybe I just wanted the job.”
He smirked. “Or maybe you wanted me.”
Her cheeks flushed, but her glare sharpened. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t chase men.”
“Good,” he whispered, his voice low enough to curl around her like smoke. “Because I don’t like being chased. I like being hunted.”
Her lips parted, a sharp intake of breath revealing her.
Nicholas felt his own pulse quicken. Dangerous. Too dangerous.
He forced himself to step back, withdrawing behind his desk. “That will be all.”
She paused, then gathered her things. But as she turned to leave, his voice cut the quiet like a blade.
“You’re either the smartest candidate I’ve ever seen,” he said, his smile slow, hungry, “or the most dangerous.”
Her hand stilled on the doorknob. She didn’t turn, but her voice was steady.
“Maybe I’m both.”
The door closed behind her.
Nicholas stood there, the silence loud in his office. His hands curled into fists at his sides. She had walked in like a ghost from his past, and now she was tangled in his future.
And deep down, beneath the ice of his anger, he felt something else burning, something he refused to name.
Nicholas stared at the door long after she was gone, his voice a whisper only the walls could hear.
“If you’ve come here to play games, Amarae… you’ll find I don’t lose.”
- Writer
