RAVEN’S POV
The interview is a disaster. A total, soul-crushing train wreck.
Maybe it’s because I have never really had to do anything on my own. I have always been under the care of someone, no matter how evil or ruthless they seemed.
I sit across from a man whose tie is tucked into a belly that looks ready to burst. He spends fifteen minutes studying my résumé, which is mostly a collection of half-truths and freelance gaps. All he gives me is a sneer.
“You’re applying for a sales position, Ms. Raven,” he barks, tapping a pen against the desk. “But you have the personality of a wet napkin. In this office, we hunt and close deals. You look too calm, like you’re one loud noise away from a breakdown.”
“And this sorry excuse for a résumé? No one will hire you!” He flings the documents at
