Chapter 5: The Interview
847 Words
Silence stretched between us, thick and unnerving.
The man standing before me looked entirely out of place in the modern world. Everything about him—his posture, the precision of his clothing, the cold authority in his gaze—felt as if he’d stepped out of another century and never quite adjusted to the present. His tailored three-piece suit was a shade of deep charcoal, perfectly pressed, with cufflinks that gleamed like silver secrets against his wrists.
His face was unreadable, sharp features accentuated by the flickering light of the chandelier overhead. But it was his eyes that unsettled me the most—dark, watchful, studying me as if trying to discern what kind of person I was before I ever spoke a word.
I shifted slightly in my seat, straightening my shoulders under his scrutiny.
“You’re punctual,” he said finally, his voice even and smooth, yet carrying the kind of weight that made it impossible to ignore.
I swallowed. “I was told to be.”
A flicker of something—maybe amusement, maybe something else—crossed his face, but it disappeared just as quickly.
He strode towards the large mahogany desk in the center of the room, his movements graceful, deliberate. Lowering himself into the high-backed chair behind it, he gestured lazily toward the one opposite him. “Sit.”
I hesitated for only a moment before obeying, perching on the edge of the leather seat.
“My name is Cassius Montgomery.” His voice was measured, controlled. “Waverley Manor has been in my family for generations, and with its upkeep comes a great deal of responsibility.”
I nodded slowly, unsure if he expected me to respond to that.
“I assume you read the job description?”
“As much as there was to read,” I said, unable to keep a trace of dry humor from my tone. “It wasn’t exactly detailed.”
His lips twitched, not quite a smirk. “No, I suppose it wasn’t.”
He tapped a single, long finger against the polished wood of the desk, regarding me with an unsettling patience before speaking again.
“I require discretion above all else.”
I nodded again. “I can be discreet.”
“This is not a position for the fainthearted.”
I hesitated at that, but his gaze didn’t waver.
“There will be rules,” he continued. “Boundaries that must never be crossed. Your duties will be extensive, your loyalty unquestioned. I do not tolerate negligence or curiosity where it does not belong.”
Something in his tone made my spine stiffen.
“What exactly would my duties be?” I asked carefully.
“Standard housekeeping,” he said smoothly. “Ensuring the manor is properly maintained, meals are prepared when necessary, and most importantly—” his eyes darkened slightly, “—you will not pry into matters that do not concern you.”
I felt an involuntary shiver roll down my spine.
“Will I be working alone?”
“No,” he said. “There is a cook, a groundskeeper, and my personal valet. You will report directly to me.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
“Are you satisfied with the pay?”
“Yes.” The answer came too quickly, too eager. But I didn’t regret it. I needed the money, and I wasn’t in a position to be selective.
“Good,” he said. “Because I don’t hire people who aren’t fully committed.”
He leaned back slightly, fingertips pressed together. “Should I decide to employ you, you’ll be expected to move in immediately. Your quarters are in the east wing. You will have everything you need there.”
I blinked. “Immediately?”
His gaze sharpened. “Is that an issue?”
My mind raced. It wasn’t as if I had an apartment to worry about anymore. The cafe was gone. My life had already been unraveled. And yet something about this—about the way he spoke, the finality in his voice—felt less like an opportunity and more like a carefully laid trap.
But what choice did I have?
“No,” I said at last. “That’s not an issue.”
Cassius watched me for another long moment before nodding. “Then I’ll let you know my decision soon.”
He rose to his feet in a silent dismissal. Not wanting to overstep, I stood as well, hesitating only briefly before turning toward the door.
“Miss Johnson.”
I stopped, glancing back over my shoulder.
His expression was unreadable. “Be certain, before you accept this position, that you understand what you’re committing to.”
A lump formed in my throat, but I forced a smile. “It’s just a job, Mr. Montgomery.”
His lips quirked, but his eyes told a different story. “Is it?”
I had no answer for that. Instead, I left the room, the weight of Waverley Manor pressing down on me like a shadow I couldn’t quite shake.
- Writer
