HATED BY MY FIRST LOVE PREGNANT FOR HIS RIVAL

Chapter 2: The Lion’s Den

Vanessa's POV

The glass doors of Alfred Industries were so polished I could see my own reflection, and I didn't like what I saw. I looked tired.

No matter how much concealer I caked under my eyes, the ghost of last night, the sandalwood, the masked man, and the lack of sleep, clung to me. I straightened my blazer and walked up to the sleek, white marble reception desk.

"Hi, I’m Vanessa Cole. I’m here for an interview for the Personal Assistant position," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

The receptionist didn't look up at first.

She was busy typing away, her long red nails clicking like a rhythm. Finally, she glanced at her screen. "Vanessa Cole... Oh, yes. The CEO is expecting you. Take the executive elevator to the fiftieth floor. His secretary will meet you there."

"Thank you," I muttered.

The elevator ride felt like it took a lifetime. My stomach did a somersault with every floor. The little digital screen ticked off.

I kept thinking about the money in my bag, the ten thousand dollars that was currently sitting in my locker back at the club. It felt dirty, but it was the only thing keeping my grandmother alive.

If I got this job, I could finally quit the club. I could be a normal person again.

The doors slid open to a lobby that looked more like a museum than an office. Everything was chrome, glass, and expensive art. A woman with a sharp bob and a headset looked up from a desk that probably cost more than my car.

"Vanessa? I'm Sarah. You’re right on time," she said, her voice robotic. She pointed to a set of massive, dark oak double doors at the end of the hall. "He’s in a mood today, so keep it brief. Just go right in."

"Wait, I don't need to sign anything first?" I asked, confused by the lack of paperwork.

"He said to send you straight in. Good luck."

I walked toward the doors, my heels clicking loudly on the polished floor. Each step felt like a march toward a firing squad. I pushed the heavy doors open and stepped inside.

The office was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the entire city skyline, but the room felt cold.

A man was standing by the window, his back to me, staring out at the traffic below. He was tall, his shoulders broad under a perfectly tailored charcoal suit.

"Sit down, Vanessa," he said.

I froze. I knew that voice. It was deeper now, more commanding, but the cadence was unmistakable. My heart dropped into my stomach, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

"James?" I whispered.

He turned around slowly. It was him. James Alfred. My high school best friend. The boy who had spent every summer afternoon with me under the old oak tree.

The boy I had confessed my love to seven years ago, only for him to laugh and tell me I was "just a sister" before taking my stepsister, Mirabel, to the prom.

He looked different. His jawline was sharper, his grey eyes colder, like polished stones. He didn't smile. He just watched me with an intensity that made me feel like I was under a microscope.

"It’s Mr. Alfred in this office," he said, walking toward his desk. He didn't offer a hand to shake. He just sat down and gestured to the chair opposite him. "Sit."

I sat, my knees trembling. "I didn't know you were the CEO. The job posting just said 'Alfred Industries'."

"I own the building, Vanessa. I thought the name would be a giveaway," he smirked, though there was no humor in it. He picked up a folder—my resume—and flipped through it lazily.

“Your credentials are... underwhelming. A waitress? A dancer? You’ve been busy."

I felt my face heat up. "I’ve been working hard to support my family. My grandmother is sick."

"I know all about your grandmother," he said, leaning back. "I also know you’ve been working at that club. What was it? The Velvet Room?"

I turned pale. "How do you..."

"I make it my business to know everything about my employees. Or potential employees." He tossed my resume onto the desk like it was trash. "Tell me, why should I hire a girl who spends her nights dancing for strangers to manage my professional life?"

"Because I'm organized, I'm loyal, and I'm desperate," I snapped, the words coming out before I could stop them. "And you know, I was the top of our class, James. My brain didn't disappear just because my bank account did."

He stayed silent for a long moment, his eyes scanning my face. "Desperate. I like that. Desperate people are easy to control."

"I’m not looking to be controlled. I’m looking for a paycheck."

"In this office, they are the same thing."

He stood up and walked around the desk, stopping just inches from my chair. He leaned down, his face so close I could smell his cologne. It was expensive, sharp, and metallic. It wasn't sandalwood.

I looked at his neck, trying to see under his collar. I was looking for the butterfly. My mind was spinning. Was he the man from last night?

The voice was similar, but James was so... cruel. The man in the booth had sounded almost pained when he spoke to me.

"Are you looking for something, Vanessa?" he whispered, his voice dropping an octave.

"No," I said, pulling back. "So, do I have the job or not?"

"You have it. But on one condition."

"What?"

"My fiancée is joining the company today as the Head of Public Relations. You will report to me, but you will also assist her. Anything she needs, you do. No questions asked."

My heart shattered all over again. "Your fiancée?"

The door to the office swung open before he could answer. A woman walked in, smelling of heavy perfume and wearing a dress that cost a fortune. She had long, wavy dark hair and a smile that didn't reach her emerald eyes.

"James, darling! The office is wonderful!" she chirped. Then she stopped, her eyes landing on me. Her smile turned into a sneer.

"Vanessa? Is that you? What is she doing here?"

"Mirabel," I breathed. My stepsister. The girl who had stolen my home, my father’s love, and finally, my best friend.

"She’s my new PA, Mirabel," James said, his voice flat. He looked at me, a cruel glint in his eyes. "I thought it would be nice to keep things in the family."

Mirabel walked over to me, circling my chair like a predator. She reached out and flicked a stray hair off my shoulder.

"A PA? Oh, James, how charitable of you. She was always good at playing the servant at home. I’m sure she’ll be perfect at fetching our coffee."

I clenched my fists in my lap, my nails digging into my palms. I wanted to scream. I wanted to walk out. But I thought of the hospital bills. I thought of Grandma.

"I’ll start whenever you need me," I said, looking James straight in the eye.

"Good," James said. "Start by taking Mirabel’s bags to her new office. And Vanessa?"

"Yes?"

"Don't be late tomorrow. I don't pay for excuses."

I stood up, my head spinning. As I reached for Mirabel’s designer bags, she leaned in close to my ear. "Don't get any ideas, V. He’s mine. He was always mine."

I walked out of the office, the weight of the bags heavy in my hands, but the weight on my heart was much heavier. I had the job, but I had just entered a war zone.