Chapter Two – The First Collision
492 Words
The next morning, Amara stood in front of the towering glass structure of Cole Enterprises, her heart thudding against her ribs. The skyscraper gleamed beneath the sun, its mirrored windows reflecting the Lagos skyline like a monument to power.
She tugged nervously at her secondhand blazer, praying the frayed seam at the sleeve wouldn’t betray her. Around her, employees in crisp suits and polished shoes flowed in and out like a tide of purpose. She felt small, almost invisible, yet the weight of the unknown interview pushed her forward.
Inside, the lobby was a different world—marble floors, golden light fixtures, and walls that whispered money. She approached the front desk, her palms clammy.
“I… I’m here for an interview,” she stammered.
The receptionist, a woman with sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes, raised a brow. “Name?”
“Amara Johnson.”
A quick tap on the computer, then a nod. " Take the elevator to the top floor. The CEO requested you personally.”
Amara blinked. The CEO? Personally? Something was off, but she swallowed her questions and headed toward the elevator.
The ride to the top felt endless. She stared at her reflection in the silver doors, whispering a silent pep talk. You can do this. It’s just an interview. Breathe.
When the doors slid open, she was met with silence and space. The top floor wasn’t bustling like the lobby—it was quiet, commanding, almost intimidating. She walked slowly down the corridor until she reached a set of double doors.
“Enter,” a deep voice commanded from inside, as if he had sensed her arrival.
Amara pushed the doors open, and there he was.
Adrian Cole.
He stood near the window, the Lagos skyline stretching behind him. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a charcoal suit that looked as though it had been tailored by the gods themselves. His presence filled the room before he even turned.
When his eyes finally met hers, she froze. They were dark, piercing, as if they could strip away every layer she had built to protect herself.
“Miss Johnson,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with authority. “You’re late.”
Her throat went dry. She checked her watch—9:59 a.m. She wasn’t late. But under his gaze, time itself felt like it had betrayed her.
“I… I got here on time,” she managed, though her voice wavered.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it never reached his eyes. He walked toward her slowly, each step deliberate, like a predator circling prey.
“You didn’t apply for this job,” he said, stopping just inches away. “And yet, here you are. Do you know why?”
Amara’s chest tightened. She shook her head, unable to look away from those unrelenting eyes.
“Because,” Adrian said softly, tilting his head, “I don’t believe in accidents.”
- Writer
