Chapter Three: Home reflections
1811 Words
The cab ride home felt longer than usual, though traffic was the same as every other weekday. Decency sat pressed against the window, the city rushing past in blurred colors. Her heart hadn’t fully steadied; it beat in her chest as though she was still sitting across from Smith Parker’s piercing eyes.
She tried to replay every moment of the interview, to measure her performance. The way his gaze had sliced into her. The way her words had tumbled out too quickly at times. And then—that moment. That daring, dangerous slip of her tongue: “Arrogance doesn’t always equal ability.”
She groaned softly, covering her face with her hand. “Why did I say that? God, what was I thinking?”
The driver glanced at her through the mirror. “Long day, madam?”
She quickly straightened. “Something like that.”
When the cab pulled up in front of her modest apartment building, Decency paid the fare with a small smile and climbed out. The warm evening air greeted her, thick with the smell of roasted corn from the roadside vendor and the faint hum of neighbors talking on their balconies. It was a far cry from the cold marble floors and hushed voices inside Smith’s Enterprise firm, but it was home.
She trudged up the narrow stairs, fishing her keys out of her purse. By the time she opened the door, exhaustion hit her in a wave. She slipped off her heels at the entrance, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender from the candle she had left on the table the night before.
Her apartment was small but tidy—a one-bedroom with pale yellow walls, a faded couch, and a kitchen barely big enough for two people to stand in. Yet, for her, it was a sanctuary.
She dropped her bag on the couch and headed straight to the mirror hanging in the hallway. Her reflection looked back at her with tired eyes, smudged mascara at the corners, and a faint flush still clinging to her cheeks. She studied herself for a long moment, then whispered, “Did you just ruin your only chance?”
She laughed weakly, though it sounded more like a sigh. “Or maybe… maybe you did the impossible and caught his attention.”
The thought made her heart skip. She remembered the way he had looked at her at the end—not like she was just another applicant, but like she was a puzzle he couldn’t immediately solve. That small detail was what kept her from collapsing entirely into despair.
Her phone buzzed on the couch, snapping her out of her thoughts. She hurried to pick it up. It was her best friend, Clara.
“Decency! Tell me everything,” Clara’s voice crackled with excitement. “How was the interview? Don’t spare a single detail!”
Decency flopped down on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. “It was… different.”
“Different how? Good different or bad different?”
She hesitated. “Both. He’s… intimidating, Clara. The magazines and gossip don’t do him justice. He’s worse—and yet somehow… more.”
Clara gasped dramatically. “More? More how? Spill!”
Decency buried her face in a cushion. “He’s exactly what they say—cold, calculating, ruthless. But standing in front of him… it was like all of that times ten. And yet—”
“And yet?” Clara pressed, practically squealing.
Decency sat up, chewing her lip. “And yet, I think I annoyed him. Or impressed him. Or maybe both. I don’t even know. He kept testing me, as though he wanted to see if I would break. And instead of keeping quiet, I… I talked back.”
Clara gasped louder this time. “You did what?”
“I told him arrogance doesn’t always equal ability.”
There was a beat of silence, then Clara burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Oh my God, you didn’t!”
“I did,” Decency said, covering her face again. “And he laughed. Actually laughed. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
Clara tried to calm down but failed, still giggling. “Girl, you might be the only woman alive to make Smith Parker laugh. That has to mean something.”
“Or it means he’ll blacklist me from every job in the city,” Decency muttered.
Clara’s tone softened. “Hey. Don’t do that. You walked out of there with your head still on your shoulders. That alone is a miracle. And who knows? Maybe he saw something in you that others haven’t.”
Decency sighed, leaning back. “Maybe.”
After they hung up, the apartment fell silent again. She changed out of her suit into a soft nightdress, then made herself a simple dinner of rice and stew. She ate quietly at the table, her mind drifting back to those intense eyes, that unexpected laugh.
By the time she crawled into bed, exhaustion had settled deep in her bones, but sleep refused to come easily. She tossed and turned, her thoughts circling like restless birds.
What if he actually calls? What if I get the job? What if… what if I have to see him every day?
Her heart thudded at the thought, equal parts fear and excitement. She closed her eyes and whispered into the darkness, “Please, God. Just give me a chance. I’ll work hard. I’ll prove myself. Just one chance.”
And with that quiet prayer, she finally drifted into uneasy sleep, the image of Smith Parker’s unreadable face etched deep in her mind.
The city glittered beneath him like a thousand restless stars. From the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, Smith Parker stood with a glass of scotch in hand, staring down at the world he ruled by day. The skyline was sharp, commanding, like him.
Yet tonight, his thoughts weren’t on quarterly reports or the next acquisition. They were on her.
Decency.
He swirled the amber liquid slowly, his jaw tightening. He couldn’t quite place what had unsettled him. He’d interviewed dozens of applicants that day—efficient, polished, forgettable. But she had not been forgettable.
The magazines painted him as cold and unreachable, and perhaps that was true. He liked it that way. It kept people in their place, reminded them who held the power. But when she had looked at him, it hadn’t been with fear, not entirely. There had been something else—a quiet defiance, a spark of honesty that most people swallowed in his presence.
Her words echoed in his mind: “Arrogance doesn’t always equal ability.”
A secretary had dared to say that. To him. And instead of throwing her out, he had laughed.
Smith lowered himself into the leather armchair by the window, the city lights throwing faint shadows across his face. He loosened his tie, but the tension in his chest didn’t ease. It unsettled him. No one unsettled him.
His life was ordered, precise. People fell into line around him, too intimidated or too desperate for his approval to do anything else. That was the way he liked it. His reputation as ruthless wasn’t just rumor—it was deliberate. Fear and respect kept his empire intact.
And yet, when Decency had sat across from him, she hadn’t played by those rules. Her hands had trembled, yes, but her eyes hadn’t. She had stood her ground. That subtle fire had drawn him in when it should have repelled him.
Smith tipped back the glass, letting the scotch burn down his throat. He tried to tell himself it was nothing. She was no different from the others—another candidate in an endless list, another hopeful looking for a chance. But the truth gnawed at him. She had lingered.
Even now, he could picture the way she had walked into the office, her steps too determined for someone so new to his world. The way her voice faltered for a second, then steadied as though she had reminded herself why she was there. And the way she had left—her chin lifted just enough to tell him she refused to be crushed.
It was foolish. She was a nobody in his world—just another face in the crowd. He should dismiss her from his mind, as he had done with so many before.
But he couldn’t.
The silence of the penthouse pressed in around him. It was immaculate, designed for efficiency, not comfort: sharp lines, cold steel, glass that reflected everything except warmth. Expensive art lined the walls, but he hadn’t chosen a single piece himself. His home was a place to sleep, not to live. He had long ago chosen power over peace, results over relationships. And he had never once regretted it.
Until tonight.
For the briefest second, the image of a young woman in a grey suit and red heels had slipped past his defenses, and now it refused to leave.
Smith rose abruptly, restless, and crossed to the desk tucked in the corner. He opened his laptop, determined to bury himself in numbers. There were contracts to review, proposals to reject, figures to balance. That was his world—predictable, controlled.
But even as the spreadsheets scrolled before his eyes, her face kept intruding. The curve of her nervous smile. The way her words had cut through his arrogance like a blade. The quiet steel in her voice when she defended herself.
He snapped the laptop shut with more force than necessary.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
And yet, as he turned back toward the window, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—one he quickly crushed. He did not smile for secretaries.
Tomorrow, he told himself, he would tell his assistant to call her back. Not because she had impressed him. Not because she had stood out. At least, that’s what he would claim. He needed a secretary, nothing more. Someone competent who could keep pace with him, who wouldn’t crumble under pressure.
It had nothing to do with the fact that she had made him laugh for the first time in months.
Nothing at all.
Smith finished his drink in one swallow, the burn grounding him. He set the glass down with finality and turned away from the window, from the skyline, from the restless thoughts clawing at him.
He told himself it was a practical decision. That he needed efficiency, loyalty, order. That she was just another hire, nothing more.
But deep down, buried beneath layers of discipline and denial, Smith Parker knew the truth:
Decency had walked into his world today, and whether he liked it or not, the fortress he had built around himself had already cracked.
And cracks, no matter how small, only widened with time.
- Writer
