Beneath A Billionaire's Cold Eyes

Sydney's POV I had exactly ten minutes before I went in for the biggest interview of my life. Ten minutes before, I found out that everything had been a lie. My phone had rang in my bag as I stood in the sleek, glass-walled lobby of Zaffari Holdings. With a racing heart and sweaty fingers, I searched through the Marc Jacobs tote I had gotten for half the original price on eBay. I sighed, relieved when I saw Colton's name on the screen. My boyfriend, my day one, and my rock. Colton was the one constant in my life that I was grateful for, and at that moment, I just wanted to run into his arms and let him hold me. But for some reason, I hesitated for a moment. An eerie feeling crept into my bones, but I shook it off immediately as nerves from the interview. "Yeah," I whispered into the phone, my voice tight from all the anxiety I was feeling. But there was no answer on the other end of the call. "Hello, babe?" still no answer. I looked at the phone screen, thinking the call had ended, but it was still going. I shook my head, slightly irritated that he may have butt dialled my number by mistake. Colton was fond of mistake calls. I moved my finger to end the call when I heard it. The trickle of female laughter, sultry, sweet and oddly familiar. Wait a damn minute! I raised shaky hands to my ear. The laughter came louder again, and I figured out who it was immediately. Lily. "She’s actually there right now? "Oh my God, Colton,” Lily, my best friend since college, asked. “Told you she'd definitely show up,” Colton chuckled. “She is so gullible.” He tsked and I could picture him shaking his head in that condescending manner he was always used to. “Do you think Zaffari will eat her alive or just throw her out?” “Doesn’t matter. She’ll come running back thinking I’m the only one who believes in her.” What? I looked at the phone, like it was some strange contraption, and I was from the medieval period. I clasped a hand over my trembling lips and closed my eyes against the sting of painful tears forming in my eyes. Was this real? No. No, no, no. It couldn’t be. This had to be some cruel joke. Colton was definitely pranking me; this should be on purpose. I raised the phone again to my ear, hoping that it wasn’t them laughing at me. "You’re evil,” Lily said with another giggle. "But I still can't believe you managed to get her in through that assistant loophole. "You’re seriously sleeping with the HR chick too?” “It’s called strategy, babe.” Colton's voice sounded smug. The phone fell from the ear and clattered to the floor. I held onto a nearby desk as little spots danced around my eyes. I suddenly forgot to breathe as my throat felt tight and dry. My heart felt like it was shattering into a thousand pieces, I wondered how long it would take for the blood to seep through my white blouse, which I had gotten last-minute from Shein All I heard was the echo of Lily's horrid laughter. My best friend. My boyfriend. The people I would've taken a bullet for. And now, they'd loaded the gun and handed it to Mr Zaffari himself. Colton had referred me for this job; he said he knew the HR. So this was a set-up? Was this the plan all along; the entire seven years I had known Colton and Lily had been a lie? They always saw me as the poor girl who people took advantage of and played stupid pranks on, and they had decided to play the prank of the century on me. I should have turned around. Walked out. Gone home and cried myself to sleep. Cried about the miserable life I had been dealt with. But instead, with rage fuelling my veins. I walked straight into the devil’s den. The elevator ride to Mr. Zaffari's office felt endless. I was already visibly shaking as I felt the anger surge through my body, like fire being gently stoked and caroused. I was an inferno and everyone was going to burn. Then I saw him. Nicholas Zaffari. Forbes' number one billionaire; he came from old money. Never experienced hardship and had a reputation for being a cold and ruthless sworn bachelor. At Thirty-Nine he was unbelievably handsome. God, nothing had prepared me for how handsome he would look. The pictures hadn’t lied, not exactly... they’d just fallen shamefully short. The journalists or camera crew had failed to capture how ethereal this man was. A strong, chiselled jaw framed his face like something carved by the gods. His dark hair had small specks of grey, the only indication that the man was near forty. It was slicked and styled in a way that not even a strand dared fall out of place. Oh, to be the gel on his head! My eyes travelled down to his nose, straight and proud above very full, delicious, pink lips! He was standing behind a long table, surrounded by some stone-faced executives. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He just looked at me. There was something otherworldly about him, like he belonged on a different planet. Maybe Jupiter! Somewhere regal and full of aristocrats. “Miss Muller,” one of the stone-faced men said. “You’re late.” I opened my mouth, but the words stuck in my throat. What could I even say? Sorry, I just found out this entire interview was a setup by my boyfriend and best friend to watch me crumble in front of your ice-cold billionaire boss's face? Nicholas raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "She doesn’t look very prepared,” he muttered nonchalantly. “Another desperate girl hoping to seduce her way into the company.” My jaw clenched. Blood pounded in my ears. The rage and anger that had initially been blindsided by his good looks returned with vengeance. “Excuse me?” My legs moved of their own volition to stand in front of him. He didn’t even bother to look at me when he replied. “You wouldn’t be the first. "There’s a type: wide eyes, a low-cut blouse, and a tragic little backstory." I heard a sound; 'c***k' as something in me snapped. Maybe it was my fear that broke because my palm collided with his face before I even realised what I was doing. Time stood still. Like a time traveller had placed a spell on the room and the earth had stopped spinning. Even the air was at a standstill. I looked at the executives, their eyes filled with shock. I looked at my palm, horror washing over me like acid. Nicholas Zaffari slowly turned toward me. An imprint of my hand on his cheek, his face emotionless. “Well,” he said calmly, “that’s a first.” I stumbled backwards, my legs finally catching up to the explosion in my chest. I didn’t even bother to explain. Nothing I would ever say would make up for what I just did. I turned around and bolted out of the room.