Chapter 2: The interview
1000 Words
Ethan
She walked into the conference room like she owned it, even though I could see the fresh cracks beneath her composed surface. Lana Parker. Twenty-four. Dark hair in a sleek bun with rebellious strands framing her face. Stormy hazel eyes carrying the weight of recent betrayal. Curves that her professional black pencil skirt and white blouse only accentuated. She moved with quiet grace despite everything.
I wanted her the second our eyes met. Not just for a night,completely. Body, mind, soul. Mine to protect. Mine to break. Mine to own.
I leaned back in my leather chair at the head of the table, fingers steepled, studying her like a king surveying new territory. Marco stood by the window, a faint smirk on his face. He knew me too well.
“Miss Parker,” I said, my voice deliberately cold and commanding. “Sit.”
She hesitated briefly, eyes narrowing at my tone, before taking the seat across from me. Defiance already. Excellent.
The HR representative started with standard questions. Lana answered with professionalism, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of exhaustion. Every word pulled me in deeper. Intelligent. Resilient. A woman who had been shattered days ago and was still standing.
I cut her off mid-sentence, tone sharp. “Your resume is passable at best. Mid-tier firm experience. What makes you believe you can survive the demands of Moretti Enterprises? We don’t coddle weakness here.”
Lana’s gaze snapped to mine, fire igniting in those hazel eyes. “With all due respect, Mr. Moretti, my campaigns have delivered measurable results ,forty-three percent engagement growth in under six months. If that’s weakness in your eyes, perhaps your standards are unrealistic.”
Her voice trembled with barely restrained anger. She already hated me. The realization sent a dark thrill through my veins.
I smiled slowly, cold and predatory. “Bold. Most candidates would grovel. You look like you’d rather stab me with that pen.”
The HR woman shifted uncomfortably. I dismissed her with a wave. This interview belonged to us now.
I rose, circling the table like a predator. I stopped behind her chair, close enough for her to feel my presence. She stiffened but refused to turn.
“Look at me, Miss Parker.”
She twisted in her seat. Our eyes locked. The air crackled. I saw the hatred simmering there,raw from her recent betrayal, painting me as just another arrogant, powerful bastard.
“I don’t need another pretty face who’ll shatter under pressure,” I said, voice low and cutting. “I need someone who can thrive in the darkness this empire demands. Can you handle it, Lana? Or will you run crying at the first challenge?”
Her breath hitched. A flush crept up her neck. “I’ve handled more in the last forty-eight hours than you could imagine, Mr. Moretti. If you’re trying to intimidate me, save your breath.”
Liar. I could taste her defiance mixed with vulnerability. It made my blood run hot.
I returned to my seat. “You’re hired. Start Monday. Eight sharp. My office. Don’t be late.”
Lana blinked in shock. “Just like that?”
I smirked. “I don’t waste time. You’ll report directly to me. Consider it your trial by fire.”
She stood, clutching her bag. “Thank you… I suppose.” The words dripped with resentment.
As she reached the door, I called out. “One more thing, Miss Parker.”
She paused.
“Welcome to my world. Try not to disappoint me.”
The door clicked shut. Marco chuckled.
“You’re playing with fire, Ethan.”
I poured whiskey into a crystal glass, the liquid glowing amber. “She’s mine, Marco. I felt it the moment I saw her. I’ll have her. Every piece.”
Monday morning, I was already at my desk when she arrived precisely at eight. She looked professional and stunning,black blouse tucked neatly, skirt hugging her hips, heels accentuating long legs. Her eyes flashed pure irritation the moment she saw me.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Ethan,” I corrected curtly. “Close the door.”
She did, tension radiating from her body at being alone with me.
I assigned her the most challenging projects deliberately high-stakes campaigns requiring late nights and constant collaboration with me. My feedback was ruthless. I tore apart her ideas not because they lacked merit, but to watch her fight back. Every sharp comeback made me crave her more.
On Wednesday afternoon, after I dismantled her latest proposal, she snapped. “You’re being unnecessarily cruel. If you regret hiring me, say it to my face.”
I rounded the desk, towering over her. “Cruel? This is preparation, Lana. The real world will destroy you if you can’t handle me.” I reached out and tilted her chin up with two fingers. “And trust me,you will learn to handle everything I give you.”
She jerked away, cheeks flushed with fury. “Don’t touch me.”
My smile was dark. “One day you’ll beg me to.”
She stormed out, slamming the door. I laughed softly, already hard, imagining bending her over my desk and turning that hatred into desperate need.
The week continued like this. Lana avoided me when possible and glared when forced to interact. The entire executive floor felt the electric tension between us. She hated my arrogance, my rudeness, my complete control. I reveled in it.
Hate was a powerful starting point. I would turn it into obsession. Into addiction. Into love.
By Friday evening, as the sun set over the city, I sat in my penthouse with a drink, staring out at the glittering lights. Lana Parker occupied every thought. Her fire. Her resilience. The way she refused to break despite the fresh wounds from her ex and so-called best friend.
I would be her new obsession, whether she wanted it or not.
She thought I was the enemy.
In time, she would realize I was inevitable.
- Writer
