The CEO Who Should Not Want Me

The Interview

(Ivanna POV)

I chose the navy dress because it made my shoulders look a little stronger than I felt. It was structured but soft enough that I could breathe, and when I checked my reflection one last time in my tiny studio apartment mirror, the woman staring back at me looked almost confident. Almost. My dark hair was pressed into a low bun that refused to obey the last stubborn strand; I pinned it again and hoped it stayed. My skin looked clear enough with a sweep of powder, my lip gloss still intact, and my heels were mercifully unscuffed.

"Okay. You can do this," I whispered to myself. My voice sounded steadier than I expected.

Today was the interview. The interview. Kovaar Global. The kind of place people whispered about, the kind of place that could drag me out of my mediocre financial limbo and into an actual life.

I’d barely slept the night before. My mattress was thin, and my body kept tossing between nerves and excitement. Around three in the morning, I forced myself to drink chamomile tea in the dark. It helped for about two minutes. By four, I gave up and opened the window, letting the cold London air slap my face awake.

But now, dressed and determined, I locked my apartment door and began the short walk to the station. It was still early, so the bakery at the corner hadn’t opened yet. I wished it had; a warm croissant would’ve calmed my shaking stomach. Instead, I grabbed a black coffee from a street vendor and immediately regretted it. It tasted burnt and metallic, but at least the heat kept my hands from trembling too visibly.

The Tube ride was quiet, aside from the usual rumble and the soft coughs of commuters. The moment I stepped off at Canary Wharf, everything felt sharper. Sleeker. As if the buildings themselves wore suits. Kovaar Global towered over them all, made of glass so polished it could probably show me every insecurity I tried to hide.

I swallowed hard and walked toward the entrance.

Inside, the lobby looked like something out of a magazine. Marble floors, silent security gates, and staff who moved as if they had somewhere important to be every second of the day. A woman at the reception desk glanced at me, then smiled politely.

"Name?"

"Ivanna Volkov. I have an interview with Human Capital Integration."

"Of course. Take the elevator to thirty six. Someone will meet you there."

The ride up was too smooth. Too fast. My heart thudded in my throat, and I pressed my palms against my dress. I reminded myself that I was qualified. I’d worked hard, pushed through too many obstacles to admit, and spent months building a portfolio strong enough to grab the attention of a multinational giant.

Still, I wasn’t prepared for what waited on the thirty sixth floor.

The doors opened. I took one step out and nearly collided with him.

Arin Kovaar.

The CEO. The man whose name appeared on every article about Kovaar Global, whose face dominated every financial publication, whose strategic brilliance was described as ruthless, elegant, and terrifyingly effective.

I’d seen photos, but none of them did him justice.

He stood tall, effortlessly commanding the hallway without even trying. His suit was charcoal, fitted perfectly, sharp lines accentuating his shoulders and the toned frame beneath. His jaw was clean shaven, strong, his mouth unsmiling but not unfriendly, just… unreadable. His eyes were the most startling thing: cool, focused, a piercing gray that looked like they could slice through any excuse or weakness.

And when those eyes landed on me, my breath caught.

"Good morning," he said simply, his tone smooth, clipped, corporate. The kind of voice that made entire boardrooms fall silent.

"Good morning," I managed, though it came out more like a whisper.

He kept walking, his stride calm and precise, his assistant fast on his heels. The scent of his cologne lingered faintly in the air after he passed; clean, understated, expensive.

My knees actually weakened. I hated that.

A woman stepped toward me. "Ivanna? I’m Gwen. We’re ready for you."

The interview room overlooked the city. I sat across from the panel, answering questions I’d rehearsed a thousand times. Somehow my voice stayed firm even when my chest felt tight. By the time they thanked me and asked me to wait outside, sweat had already dampened the inside of my palms. I tried not to wipe them too aggressively on my dress.

Minutes crawled by. I watched people move through the hallway in the glossy reflection of the glass wall. Everyone looked important. Everyone looked like they belonged here.

I wasn’t sure if I did.

Then Gwen reappeared with a soft smile.

"Ivanna, congratulations. You’ve been selected. Welcome to Kovaar Global."

For a second, I thought I misheard her. But then the words crashed through me, warm and dizzying.

"I got the job?"

"You did."

Relief hit me like a wave. My knees actually buckled a little. I released a shaky breath and nodded, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Thank you. Truly."

And just when I thought things couldn't get more surreal, Arin himself walked by again. He spoke to Gwen, then shifted his gaze to me. Not a lingering stare, just a flicker. A glance that felt as sharp as a touch.

"She’s the new consultant?" he asked Gwen.

"Yes, sir."

Something unreadable passed through his expression before he nodded once and continued down the hall.

Gwen looked at me and whispered, "He never asks about new consultants."

My stomach flipped for absolutely no logical reason.

By the time I made it home, my body was buzzing. I kicked off my heels, reheated leftover pasta for lunch, and dropped onto my couch. I let myself smile into my meal like an i***t. I had a job. A real job. At one of the most powerful corporations in the world.

Later, I forced myself to nap. My head ached from all the adrenaline. When I woke up, I checked the welcome email three times just to make sure it was real.

I didn’t let myself think about Arin Kovaar. Or the way he’d looked at me, even briefly. Or how impossibly sharp and effortless he seemed.

I didn’t let myself think about the way I felt in his presence either. That would be dangerous.

But late that night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment he walked past me, something tugged at my mind.

A feeling I couldn’t quite shake.

A question I shouldn’t have asked myself so soon.

Why did it feel like he already knew me?

The thought lingered, unsettling and cold.

And then my phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

Do not trust anyone at Kovaar Global. Especially him.

My blood ran cold as I sat upright, heart pounding.

The message disappeared before I could take a screenshot.

And suddenly, the job I thought would save my life…

felt like the first step into something dangerous.