SKETCHING HEARTS

The Worst Possible Interview

Three days later, Chloe Bennett stood in the soaring glass lobby of Vance Designs and seriously considered turning around and walking right back out into the New York rain.

The building wasn't merely large. It was offensively luxurious.

Polished marble floors stretched out like mirrors beneath her feet. Massive abstract sculptures stood under precise spotlights, each one looking as though it cost more than everything Chloe owned combined. Elite employees moved through the space like models in tailored suits, carrying sleek digital tablets and expensive artisanal coffees.

Chloe looked down at her own outfit.

Her blouse was ironed. Her trousers were clean. Her shoes were respectable.

Her confidence, however, had apparently decided to stay at home in bed.

She tightened her fingers around the leather handles of her portfolio canvas. You can do this, she lied to herself.

She had spent the last seventy-two hours obsessing over what had happened on that moonlit terrace balcony. Thinking about the way his dark eyes had narrowed when she called him arrogant and naturally unpleasant. She had spent those three days comforting herself with the fact that New York was a massive city, and she would probably never see him again.

It had been a very comforting thought. Until this exact morning.

"Ms. Bennett?"

Chloe blinked, looking up. The elegant receptionist behind the white marble desk was watching her with a professional smile. "Yes?"

"The interview room has been changed. You're requested on the executive penthouse floor."

Chloe’s stomach did a sudden, violent drop. "The executive floor?"

"Yes. Mr. Vance will see you shortly."

Chloe froze, the air leaving her lungs. "Mr. Vance? As in... Julian Vance?"

"There is only one Mr. Vance at this agency, ma'am."

Of course there was.

Chloe swallowed hard and slowly turned toward the private elevators. Fantastic.

Stepping into the mirrored lift, the doors slid shut with a soft click. She stared at her pale reflection. "You are a professional," she whispered fiercely.

Her reflection looked entirely unconvinced.

"You are talented. And you absolutely did not insult the most powerful art mogul in the city three nights ago." She grimaced, watching the floor numbers flash rapidly. "Okay. That last one is a massive lie."

The elevator doors chimed and slid open. Chloe stepped out into a completely different world.

Everything was dead silent up here. The walls were made of dark tinted glass and pale imported stone. Famous original masterwork paintings lined the wide corridors. Even the air smelled expensive—like fresh cedarwood, rich paper, and elite status.

A sophisticated secretary led Chloe down a long hallway toward a set of double mahogany doors. She pushed them open. "Mr. Vance will be with you momentarily."

The doors closed softly behind Chloe, trapping her inside.

The executive office was breathtaking. Panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the sprawling Manhattan skyline. A sleek, black obsidian conference table occupied one side of the room, while dark wooden shelves overflowing with rare art history books stretched up to the ceiling.

And sitting right behind the enormous obsidian desk was Julian Vance.

Chloe stopped breathing entirely.

He looked exactly as he had on the balcony, only infinitely more intimidating in his element. Impeccable dark suit. Perfectly styled hair. A cool, strictly controlled expression. Only this time, there was no crowded gala or loosened tie to soften his edges. There was just a desk, a heavy silence, and her entire future hanging in the balance.

Julian slowly looked up from a leather-bound file. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of them spoke. The tension in the room snapped like a high-voltage wire.

Then, the corner of his mouth curved into the faintest, mocking ghost of a smirk. "Ms. Bennett."

Chloe cleared her tight throat, forcing her voice to remain steady. "Mr. Vance."

His sharp, discerning gaze locked onto her, tracking her every movement. "I see you found your way here."

"I was invited for an interview."

"So you were." He gestured slightly to the sleek leather chair opposite his desk.

Every step she took toward that chair felt like walking a plank. She sat down, maintaining her rigid posture.

Julian BN leaned back in his leather chair, crossing one leg over the other with absolute power. "You seem remarkably nervous."

"I'm not nervous at all," she shot back quickly.

"Is that so? Because you've been holding your art portfolio completely upside down for the last thirty seconds."

Chloe's eyes snapped down. It was completely upside down. Her cheeks flared a bright, hot crimson. She quickly flipped it over, lifting her chin to mask her utter mortification. "I was merely testing your legendary powers of observation."

"Naturally."

The deep amusement vibrating in his low voice was almost unbearable.

Chloe forced herself into professional mode. "Thank you for taking the time to see me. I am incredibly excited about the potential opportunities at Vance Designs."

"Are you?" He tilted his head, studying her. "You don't look excited."

"I have a very subtle, minimalist way of expressing enthusiasm."

Julian's left eyebrow lifted slightly. "I noticed your unique expressions on the terrace."

Chloe mentally kicked herself. Professionalism, Chloe! Keep the filter on. "So," she said, sliding her portfolio across the smooth black desk. "I would love to walk you through my creative background and professional concepts."

"I've already reviewed your résumé," Julian stated, his long fingers resting on the leather file. "There is very little traditional experience listed."

Chloe's defensive walls went up. Her smile tightened. "There is immense potential."

"Potential is a luxury. Experience is a currency."

"Yes, but experience doesn't automatically equal raw talent, Mr. Vance."

The words left her mouth before she could stop them. The room fell into a suffocating, dead silence. Chloe froze, internally screaming. Why did I say that?

Julian's expression didn't change, but his dark eyes shifted. A sudden, intense flicker of genuine interest sparked within them. "A valid point," he murmured. He reached out and pulled her portfolio toward him. "Show me."

He flipped open the cover. Julian studied the first piece. Then the second. Then the third.

His expression was an unreadable brick wall. Chloe sat frozen, her pulse hammering wildly against her ribs. The ticking of the wall clock sounded like a countdown.

"So..." she finally blurted out, unable to take the agonizing quiet.

He didn't look up from the pages. "So?"

"Do you absolutely hate them?"

"No."

"Well. That's highly encouraging."

"I haven't finished looking yet, Ms. Bennett."

"Right."

He continued to flip through her work. But he wasn't skimming. Julian examined every single brushstroke, every digital shading layer, with a terrifying level of intense concentration. He was actually looking. Really looking. For the first time in her life, someone in authority wasn't dismissing her art as a silly hobby before even turning the page.

Finally, he reached the very last page—a deeply emotional, vivid digital landscape of the city at twilight. He stopped. His fingers lingered on the edge of the paper.

"This one," Julian said, his voice dropping an octave.

Chloe's heart leaped into her throat. "Yes?"

"You created this?"

"I did."

"When?"

"Last year."

"Why isn't a piece of this caliber published or showcased anywhere?"

Chloe hesitated, the familiar sting of her family's harsh words echoing in her mind. Because they told me it was amateur. Because I started to believe my standards were low. Because hiding in my bedroom was safer than failing in front of the world.

She shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I suppose I wasn't ready."

Julian closed the portfolio with a firm, decisive snap. He looked directly into her eyes. "You are ready."

Chloe stared at him, utterly stunned. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me perfectly fine, Chloe."

For one beautiful moment, her insecurity vanished, replaced by a sudden rush of warmth. The most critical man in New York thought she was ready.

Then, Julian folded his hands over her closed portfolio. "I have a single opening available in this department."

Chloe’s eyes widened with hope. "An illustrator position?"

"No."

Her hopeful smile faded slightly. "A junior graphic designer?"

"No."

Her confusion deepened. "Then... what position?"

Julian watched her face, savoring her reaction for a beat. Then, he said calmly, "My personal assistant."

Chloe blinked. "Your... personal assistant? Like, executive assistant?"

"Yes."

"Like... an administrative assistant who fields calls and organizes folders?"

His expression remained perfectly serious. "Is there another definition I am unaware of?"

"No, I just... I thought you brought me in here because of my art portfolio!"

"You assumed correctly that you lack the corporate qualifications to handle a senior design role here," Julian said smoothly, cutting her off before she could protest. "However, you are highly observant. Creative. Exceptionally quick on your feet." He paused, a dark glint in his eyes. "And apparently entirely incapable of filtering your thoughts in my presence."

Chloe narrowed her eyes, her natural wit returning. "That sounds dangerously like a compliment, Mr. Vance."

"I assure you, it wasn't."

"Too late. I'm still taking it as one."

For the first time since she had met him, Julian Vance actually smiled. It was a brief, controlled flash of white teeth, but it was incredibly handsome and somehow infinitely more dangerous than his glare.

"You start Monday morning at eight sharp."

Chloe stared. "You're entirely serious?"

"I don't joke about my staff, Ms. Bennett."

"You haven't even asked whether I know how to manage an executive calendar."

"I already know you are capable of handling whatever I throw at you." He picked up an expensive fountain pen from his desk, dismissing the topic. "Your duties will include schedules, meetings, file archival, and running immediate errands."

"Errands?" she repeated skeptically. "How exactly important are these errands?"

Julian's dark gaze locked back onto hers. "Your very first one is incredibly simple." He glanced up at the sleek silver clock on the wall, then looked right back at her. "Coffee."

Chloe blinked. "Coffee?"

"Black. No sugar."

She stared at him, incredulous. "You want me to go get you coffee right now?"

"I want my new personal assistant to bring me my morning coffee, yes."

Chloe slowly stood up from the leather chair, her blood simmering with a mix of irritation and undeniable electricity. "Right. Black. No sugar."

She turned and walked toward the massive double doors. Her hand gripped the cold metallic handle, ready to escape his magnetic pull.

"And, Ms. Bennett?"

She paused, turning her head back over her shoulder.

Julian was leaning back in his executive chair, watching her with that exact same mesmerizing, quiet amusement from the moonlit balcony.

"You might want to remember one vital thing before Monday."

"What is that?"

"You called me arrogant."

Chloe’s entire face heated up instantly.

Julian tapped his pen against his chin, his dark eyes trapping hers. "And you called me naturally unpleasant."

She cleared her throat defensively. "I was under an immense amount of personal stress on that terrace."

"I understand completely," Julian murmured, his smirk deepening into something intensely captivating. "That is precisely why I am giving you the job."

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him. "You are enjoying this entirely too much."

"Immensely," he admitted without a shred of shame.

She opened the door.

"Don't forget the coffee," he reminded her smoothly.

She shot him one final, defiant glare. "Black. No sugar. Got it."

Chloe stepped out into the quiet hallway, the heavy mahogany doors clicking shut behind her. She stood against the wall in stunned, breathless silence. She had walked into Vance Designs hoping to prove her art was worth something to the creative world. Instead, she had somehow become the personal assistant to the most ruthless art director in the city.

And apparently, her new career started with caffeine.

Chloe walked toward the elevator, shaking her head. "Fantastic."

Suddenly, her phone buzzed in her hand. A crisp new calendar notification popped up on her screen:

MONDAY — 8:00 A.M.

JULIAN VANCE: PERSONAL ASSISTANT MANDATORY ORIENTATION

Chloe stared at the glowing letters on the screen, letting out a low, defeated groan as the elevator doors opened. Her evening on the balcony had officially become the very least of her problems.