His Accidental Lover

📖 Chapter Three – The Interview Twist Episode

The next morning arrived like a thief — too fast, too early, and without mercy.

My alarm rang at 6:00 a.m., blaring like a military trumpet. I smacked it off, stared at the ceiling, and groaned. Today was the day. The interview that could change my life. The interview that had haunted my dreams all night.

And, of course, the only thing I could think about was Adrian Cole.

How did he know my name?

Why did his words sound like they carried hidden wounds?

Why did his smile linger in my mind long after he disappeared into the rain?

I shook my head violently. “Focus, Amara. Billionaire–shirt–ruining strangers are not the priority. Employment is.”

I jumped up, determined not to let fate play another prank on me. My outfit was already ironed — a crisp white blouse tucked into a navy pencil skirt, paired with sensible heels (this time, I triple–checked the straps to make sure betrayal was impossible). My hair, straightened and pinned neatly, screamed I am professional, please hire me.

Still, I stuffed a pair of flats into my bag. A wise woman learns from broken–heel disasters.

By the time I stepped out, Lagos was surprisingly kind. No rain. No thunder. Just a bright morning sun, as if the universe had finally decided to give me a break.

---

The office of Starlight Media towered above me like a glass palace. Shiny, intimidating, and full of people who looked like they were too busy conquering the world to worry about their umbrellas.

I took a deep breath, clutching my resume. “Okay, Amara. You got this. Just don’t trip, don’t spill coffee, don’t breathe too loud, and maybe they’ll think you’re normal.”

The lobby alone was enough to make me dizzy. Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and a receptionist with a smile so perfect it could’ve been trademarked. I signed in, got a visitor badge, and followed the instructions to the 15th floor.

By the time I entered the waiting room, my palms were sweating. Five other candidates sat neatly, looking like models straight out of a business magazine. Their suits were sharp, their shoes polished, their confidence radiating.

Meanwhile, I sat there praying my deodorant was strong enough to fight the war happening under my arms.

---

After what felt like forever, my name was called.

“Miss Amara Obi?”

I stood, plastering on the best fake smile of my life. “Yes, that’s me.”

The panel room was spacious, with a long glass table and three interviewers seated like judges at a talent show. Two women, one man. Their eyes scanned me from head to toe, like they could measure my worth in a single glance.

“Have a seat,” one of the women said, flipping through my resume.

I sat, back straight, legs crossed at the ankle. My heart pounded like drums at a cultural festival.

The questions came like arrows.

“Why do you want to work here?”

“What makes you different from the other candidates?”

“How do you handle pressure?”

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I answered as best as I could — honestly, sometimes awkwardly, occasionally throwing in a nervous laugh that earned me polite smiles. But I refused to give up. Every stumble, I caught myself. Every awkward pause, I filled with determination.

By the halfway mark, I could see curiosity flicker in their eyes. Maybe I wasn’t the most polished candidate, but I was real. Passionate. Hungry.

Then came the question that froze me.

“If you were given an opportunity beyond this role, something bigger than you expected, would you take it? Or would you settle for the safe option?”

I blinked, thrown off. “I… I’d take it. Even if it scared me. Because settling has never gotten anyone closer to their dreams.”

There was a pause. One of the interviewers scribbled something on her notepad, then looked at me with the faintest smile.

---

After the final question, they thanked me and asked me to wait outside.

I walked out on shaky legs, sat down in the waiting room, and exhaled so loudly a candidate beside me gave me side–eye.

“Relax,” I whispered to myself. “You didn’t faint. That’s a win.”

Just then, a voice behind me said, “Not bad. You held your ground.”

My blood froze. I knew that voice.

Slowly, I turned.

And there he was. Adrian Cole.

Dressed in a sharp charcoal suit that made him look like he had just walked out of a magazine cover, standing in the hallway of Starlight Media as if he owned it.

Which, knowing my luck, he probably did.

“You—” My voice cracked. “What are you doing here?”

He smirked. “I could ask you the same. But then again, you did say you had an interview.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait. Don’t tell me you work here.”

“Not exactly,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I’m the executive director.”

The air left my lungs. “The what?”

“Executive director,” he repeated smoothly, as if the words were nothing, while my world spun like a broken ceiling fan.

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Yesterday I had poured coffee on his shirt. Today I had tried to convince a panel I was worthy of a job… at his company.

And he had known all along.

I buried my face in my hands. “Please, God. Just delete me.”

But Adrian chuckled, low and amused. “Relax, Amara. You did well in there.”

I peeked through my fingers. “You were watching?”

“Of course.” His eyes glimmered with mischief. “Would you like me to give you your score?”

I groaned. “No, thank you. My fragile ego can’t handle it.”

He laughed again, and the sound was both comforting and infuriating. How could he be so calm while I was internally combusting?

---

Before I could ask more, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, frowned slightly, then pocketed it again.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, turning to walk away.

“Wait!” I blurted. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that and leave. What does ‘see you soon’ mean? Did I get the job or not?”

He smiled over his shoulder. “Patience, Amara. Sometimes the best stories take time to unfold.”

And just like that, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving me with a racing pulse, a hundred questions, and the terrifying realization that my life had just gotten far more complicated.

---

That evening, I sat on my bed replaying everything. The storm. The coffee. The interview. Adrian’s mysterious words.

Who was this man, really?

Why did he know my name before I ever told him?

And why did his presence make me feel like the line between disaster and destiny was blurring right before my eyes?

I hugged my pillow, staring at the ceiling.

One thing was clear: whatever this was, it was only the beginning.

And somehow, I knew — Adrian Cole was going to change everything...