A New Beginning
The moment the plane touched down at Heathrow Airport, Amara’s heart skipped. Not from fear, but excitement the kind that crawled through her skin and made her fingertips tingle. After years of dreaming from her small flat in Surulere, Lagos, she was finally here London.
She looked out the window, her reflection mixing with the gray skies outside. “So this is it,” she whispered to herself. “My new life begins.”
Armed with a suitcase full of Ankara dresses and a heart full of hope, Amara stepped off the plane into a city that already felt like another universe. She was twenty-four, ambitious, and unapologetically bold. The internship with Savage Mode, London’s most exclusive luxury fashion house, was nothing short of a miracle.
Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor of the arrivals terminal as she wheeled her luggage forward. Eyes bright, head high but inside, she was buzzing with nerves.
“Amara Okoye?” a woman’s crisp British accent called.
She turned to see a red-haired woman holding a tablet with her name on it.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Claire, Mr. Hartley’s assistant. He asked me to bring you to the office for your orientation.”
Mr. Hartley.
The CEO himself? She’d done her research Jason Hartley was young, wealthy, and ruthless. A fashion genius with a reputation for brilliance and heartbreak. Amara swallowed hard. She hadn’t expected to meet him so soon.
The drive through London was like watching a movie. The city breathed elegance rows of stone buildings, red double-decker buses, and people in trench coats with eyes too busy to notice the world. Amara pressed her face to the glass like a child.
Claire chuckled. “First time in London?”
“Is it that obvious?” Amara grinned.
Claire smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
Savage Mode’s headquarters were everything the website didn’t capture tall glass, crisp white interiors, fashion pieces displayed like art, and a scent that made you feel like money.
Amara barely had time to catch her breath before Claire led her into a minimalist boardroom. “Wait here,” she said. “Mr. Hartley will be with you shortly.”
Alone now, Amara smoothed her blouse and checked her reflection in the window. Her dark curls were a little frizzy from the flight, but her makeup was still intact. She inhaled deeply and told herself to be confident.
And then — he walked in.
Tall. Tailored. Ice in his stare and fire in his aura.
Jason Hartley.
His presence filled the room before he even spoke. Dressed in black with sharp blue eyes that seemed to read everything and reveal nothing. For a second, Amara forgot how to breathe.
“You’re the Nigerian intern,” he said flatly.
Amara stood. “Yes, sir. Amara Okoye.”
He studied her. Not like a man admiring beauty but like someone assessing risk.
“Let’s make something clear,” he said, folding his arms. “This isn’t a charity program. If you’re here, it’s because I expect results. Talent gets you noticed. But hard work keeps you here. Understood?”
Amara swallowed. “Understood, sir.”
He turned, walked to the window, then glanced back. “Nice outfit.”
That caught her off guard.
She blinked. “Thank you.”
His lips twitched almost a smile but then it was gone. “You start tomorrow.”
And just like that, he walked out.
Amara’s heart thundered in her chest. She wasn’t sure what just happened. But one thing was clear this man was trouble.
And she was already entangled.
