365 Days with My Billionaire

CHAPTER 3

SARAH

My three-inch heels clanked on the cobblestone floor, dark pantsuit and jacket flying as I zoomed past people in a desperate hurry to make it to my scheduled interview at Onyx & Co. People on the street looked at me like I was crazy, and it wasn’t far from the truth. I was going crazy because my one big shot was about to be blown by my exquisite time-keeping skills.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would get a callback. I saw the qualifications the company was looking for( first class degree in any discipline from a four-year university, two to five years of experience working as a personal assistant, proficiency in Microsoft Office, among others). I had none of those under my belt, but as Pink, my favourite singer, once said, You gotta get up and try.

Try I did and the universe decided to have mercy on me.

Either that or my resume pleased one person in the HR department.

Back when I worked at Surburbia, I had often see people go in and out of the glass double doors of Renegade in their pristine and well-put-together work suits. The place screamed opulence and importance. It also screamed uptight and having a stick-in-your-ass. The employees would constantly complain about how grueling and tedious their work was thanks to one name that always came up in their conversations-Onyx Bradford. I was never one to pry into the affairs of others and I didn’t particularly like to listen to gossip, but it kept me entertained while I was working for over six hours.

Onyx Bradford, the new Jack Dorsey of the tech world, was a no-nonsense, cutthroat type of individual. At least, that was what his employees painted him as. He sounded like a tyrant who would snap your neck if you so much as breathed the wrong way.

They said he'd fire you if you arrived a minute late for work.

They said he'd fire you if your weekly reports were not “to his taste and liking.”

They said he'd fire you if you messed up his coffee order.

I wondered if that was what got his last assistant fired.

He had no street credibility in the eyes of his employees, yet here I was standing in front of the skyscraper-like building, panting like I had just run a marathon.

The logo of the company-the letters “O & C” painted in dark blue and encapsulated in a glass cube-was supported by a glass stand next to the double doors of the company. Onyx Bradford must have a glass fetish or something because everything, at least from the outside, looked...fragile.

But that was the least of my concern.

I gasped when I looked at the time on my watch and stopped ogling the logo. The interview was scheduled for nine am but it was nine thirty-two am.

I wasn’t the type that made it a habit of being late for anything. Aunt Bella once told me that first impressions make a lasting impression. Turning up thirty-two minutes late painted me in a bad light. But I had an excuse, a valid one, even though no one in the company controlled by a tyrant would particularly care about my family troubles.

Aunt Bella had a ‘little cough’ that was more violent than the other ones she had. It made her vomit and she looked paler than the sky on a rainy day. I had to stay behind to make sure she was okay enough for me to leave for a few hours. Job interview or not, my family came first.

That was non-negotiable.

Thank heavens the company wasn’t far from home. It was a ten-minute walk, twenty in heels and twenty-five if one trips in said heels and breaks an ankle.

I didn’t break my ankle.

Without looking in the mirror, I knew I looked like a hot mess. A whiff of my armpit told me that I smelled like sweat and Swiss Rose perfume. My white shirt was most likely crinkled and from the wetness I could feel on my back, I knew it was soaked. I always had the propensity to sweat easily. That earned me the name of ‘Sweaty Sarah’ in elementary school. Children could be cruel, but as I matured, I realized that it was something I couldn’t control.

It was my...biological nature and it was covered by a dark jacket and a nervous smile as I approached the lady at the front desk who I assumed was the receptionist.

‘’Hello,” I said.

The lady in question, a blonde just like me, paid me no mind as she typed away on her computer. The silence was awkward as I bounced one foot in front of the other, deliberating whether to say anything more.

Surely she’s not deaf.

My awkwardness quickly turned to irritation. Curtsey at least demanded that one must respond when spoken to.

“Excuse me, Miss-“

‘’If you’re here for the interview,’’ she finally stopped typing and looked me up and down, doing a quick scan of my outfit. What followed was a shake of her head, “please have a seat on the left.’’ She pointed to an array of dark coloured chairs where people competing for the same position as I was were.

‘’You’re late.’’

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

‘’But you’re lucky because we haven’t started yet.’’

That piece of helpful information made me visibly relaxed. The lady, whose ID card read Esther, gave me a small smile. “Here.” She handed me a handkerchief with the company logo embedded in it.

‘’Thanks,’’ I responded, slightly embarrassed.

I walked over to the array of seats and settled next to an African-American man who was typing away on his phone. I wondered how he could be typing when we were minutes away from being interviewed. My nerves were getting the best of me so bringing out my phone from my bag was out of the question.

“…and he’s so hot.” I turned my attention to the women sitting across from me. They were deeply engrossed in a conversation that was loud enough for me to hear.

“Definitely,” the red-haired, pale-skinned one nodded her head, “and so young too. I can’t believe he built all this from scratch.”

“I know, right,’’ her companion, a dark-haired woman of African-American descent agreed. “I can’t wait to be his personal assistant just so I can stare at him all day,” she sighed dreamily.

Of course, they were talking about Onyx Bradford. How could they not? Minutes away from being interviewed, the best thing to do was openly gossip about their potential boss’s...admirable features.

If he was anything like what his employees painted him out to be, one would be staring at a soulless brick wall.

I giggled at my own joke and that earned a raised eyebrow from my seat partner. I gave him a sheepish smile and continued listening to the conversation that wasn’t my business.

“I heard he’s mean though, Carrie.”

“Who cares?” The red-haired woman, now identified as Carrie, answered nonchalantly. ‘’He’s hot and totally bangable. Why do you think the ratio of women applying for this job is higher than the men?’’

In my haste, I hadn’t noticed my surroundings but Carrie was correct. I could headcount about thirty of us and twenty-six were women.

My reasons were my own, but I definitely didn’t...well run into Onyx & Co looking like a drenched cow thinking that the CEO was ‘bangable’. I couldn’t verify the truth or fallacy of her statement because I only knew the man’s name. I hadn’t seen him in person or in pictures.

It sounded bizarre considering Onyx was a public figure and I was a frequent Renegade user but it was the truth. I had never searched for his profile on Google before and I foolishly didn’t do a little bit more research on the company before I applied for the job.

I was definitely going to war without the proper ammunition.

But on the bright side, I wasn’t without any information about Onyx. I knew what his employees said about him. I knew he was very rich considering Renegade’s huge success. It has been the app of the year for three non-consecutive years. I also knew that he was strict and ‘bangable’, to put it in Carrie’s lingo.

“You’re so loud,” Carrie’s companion cautioned . ‘’Someone might hear us.’’

You think?

“May I have your attention please?”

We all turned toward the voice. An African-American woman stepped out of the elevator with a clipboard in hand and stood in front of us. A couple of employees who passed by greeted her with a bow of their heads and she returned their greetings with a nod. Turning her attention back to us, she waited for the chatter to die down before speaking again.

She looked like she was in her early fifties. Her pixie-cut hairstyle reminded me of Halle Berry for some reason. She definitely looked like her from my vantage point and she had a trim, fit figure. Her dark blue pantsuit screamed ‘mess with me and I'd cut your ear off.’

She wasn’t smiling. I didn’t expect her to. The receptionist hadn’t smiled when I walked in, so maybe smiling was prohibited.

“Welcome to Onyx and Co,” she said in a clipped tone. “My name is Shonda Wilkinson and I’m the head of the HR department here at Renegade. Once I call your name, you'll head into this elevator,” she motioned to a second elevator next to the one she came out from, “and press the button to the top floor. There you will be interviewed by the CEO himself.”

Murmurs erupted from our lips along with a few gasps. Since when do CEOs conduct personal interviews? How does he even have the time to do that? What’s the point of having an HR department if you’re going to do their jobs for them?

“Simmer down. You need not fear.”

Oh, there was plenty to fear.

I wasn't the only one that heard the rumours about Onyx Bradford’s work ethic. His reputation definitely preceded him because Carrie’s companion was visibly shaking.

I thought she would be happy because minutes ago she and Carrie’s tongues were talking big about Onyx being ‘bangable.’

Mrs Wilkinson continued. “It’s just an interview.”

With an alleged tyrant.

She looked at her watch and sighed. “Well, good luck to you all, and may the best man or woman win.” She scanned our faces. ‘’Trust me, you’re going to need the good luck.’’

Thank you for the vote of confidence.

“Carrie Morrison, you’re up first.”