INTERVIEW?
1078 Words
Talia’s POV
I shouldn’t have worn heels.
That’s the first thought that crosses my mind when I step out of the elevator and into the private executive floor of The Alpha Resort. My feet ache, my palms sweat, and for the hundredth time, I wish I’d taken a moment to breathe in the restroom before rushing up here like a deranged intern.
The hallway is too quiet. Too polished. Too expensive.
Everything smells faintly of cedarwood and cool mountain air, as if even the ventilation system knows it belongs to a man like Aiden Wolfe.
I smooth my blouse and force myself forward.
The receptionist looks up when I approach her desk — a sleek marble structure that costs more than my annual salary. “You must be Talia,” she says with a clipped, polite smile. “Mr. Wolfe is expecting you.”
Expecting me.
Those words make my stomach somersault.
Because I am absolutely not ready for this.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I—I mean, yes. Thank you.”
She gestures to a pair of tall black doors at the end of the corridor. They look like they could lead to a throne room—or a lair.
“He’s inside. Just knock once and enter.”
Enter, just like that.
As if I’m not about to walk into the office of a man whose presence last night unraveled me so completely that I barely slept.
As if I didn’t already make a fool of myself by spilling whiskey on his shoes.
My heels click too loudly on the glossy floor, echoing around me like a countdown to my own doom. I stop at the doors, wipe my hands discreetly on my skirt, and inhale a breath I pray is steady.
Knock.
Push.
Enter.
The office is huge—floor-to-ceiling windows revealing the endless stretch of the Wolfe mountains, sunlight spilling in like liquid gold over a room decorated in dark wood and steel. It feels masculine, powerful, and expensive.
He stands with his back to me, hands in his pockets, staring out the window.
Aiden Wolfe.
The billionaire owner.
The man with rumors swirling around him like storm clouds.
The man who looked at me last night as if he knew exactly how easily I could break.
When he turns around, the world tightens.
His eyes land on me instantly, sweeping over my face, my clothes, my trembling fingers. He looks unchanged from yesterday—strong jaw, broad shoulders, dark hair slightly tousled like he ran his hands through it. But there’s something else today. Something sharper.
“Talia,” he says. My name from his mouth sounds like a test I haven’t studied for. “You’re right on time.”
“Hi. Yes. Um. I’m here.”
Brilliant. I’m on fire today.
One corner of his mouth lifts, not quite a smile but close enough to make my pulse skip.
“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.
I obey a little too fast, almost tripping over my own feet. His eyebrow raises slightly, and I swear I can feel my cheeks ignite.
He sits across from me, long legs stretching out like he owns the air. “Your résumé,” he starts, sliding a file toward him, “is impressive for someone your age. You’ve worked hard.”
I swallow. Hard. “Thank you.”
“But,” he continues, and that single word slices my confidence in half, “your application for the executive intern position lacked something.”
“Something?” My voice cracks. I force it steadily. “What… what did it lack?”
He studies me. Not my papers. Not the file. Me.
“Honesty,” he says simply.
I blink. “Honesty?”
He leans back in his chair. “You applied out of desperation, not ambition. You need this job for reasons you didn’t write down.”
His stare feels like heat against my skin.
My throat tightens. He’s too close to the truth.
I think of the bills piling up. The student loans. My brother’s medical expenses. The weight I carry quietly, silently.
“How…” I clear my throat. “How would you know that?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Because I recognize that look. I wore it once.”
I have no idea what to say. The air between us turns heavy, charged with something I can’t name.
He steeples his fingers. “Tell me the truth, Talia. Why do you really want this job?”
I can’t lie. Not under that gaze.
“I need a chance,” I whisper. “A real one. And I can work. Harder than anyone. I just… need someone to see me.”
Something flickers across his face—something almost like understanding or like he wants to argue with himself.
“I see you,” he says quietly.
My heart stutters.
Too intimate. Too direct. Too dangerous.
Before I can figure out how to breathe again, he stands and walks around the desk. I freeze as he stops beside me, tall enough to cast a shadow across my lap.
He hands me a thick folder.
“Your contract. If you want the position, it’s yours.”
My head snaps up. “Just like that?”
“No,” he says, voice low. “Not just like that. You’ll work under me. Very closely. You’ll be expected to handle pressure. Long hours. And me.”
I swallow. “Handle you?”
His gaze drops to my mouth. Just for a second.
But I feel it everywhere.
“If that’s a problem,” he murmurs, “walk out now.”
It should be a problem.
It should be a massive, screaming red flag.
But all I can think about is the way he’s looking at me—like I’m not invisible for once.
Perhaps, for the first time in my life, someone powerful actually sees potential where everyone else sees nothing.
“I’ll take it,” I say softly.
His jaw ticks once, as if he expected that answer… or hoped for it.
“Good,” he says. “Then welcome to The Alpha Resort, Talia.”
His voice is smooth. Dark. Dangerous.
And as he steps back, giving me space to breathe, one thing becomes painfully, terrifyingly clear:
I have just stepped into something I am absolutely not prepared for.
And something tells me…
Neither is he.
- Writer
