Chapter four
902 Words
Two weeks.
That’s how long it had been since the ball.
In that time, I’d decided Mystery Man was officially filed under Fun One-Time Thing and locked away in the mental folder marked Things We Don’t Talk About in Public.
I went back to bingeing Netflix, job-hunting, and surviving on a diet of coffee and toast. Stacy kept trying to get me to “date again” which was hilarious, because she said it like I was a widow in a period drama instead of someone who’d been cheated on by a guy who owned exactly three shirts.
Then I got the email.
Subject: Interview Invitation – Fletcher Corp.
Cue mild panic. Fletcher Corp wasn’t just a company , it was the company. Top of the industry.. Actual money. The kind of place where you didn’t bring your lunch in a plastic grocery bag.
Which is why, on the morning of the interview, I woke up… twenty minutes late.
“Sh*t!”
I launched out of bed, threw on the only clean blouse I could find, and sprinted around my apartment like an Olympic runner looking for her shoes. My hair looked like I’d been in a tornado, my eyeliner was uneven, and I had exactly zero time to fix either.
By the time my Uber driver dropped me off in front of the skyscraper, I was twenty-three minutes behind schedule, slightly sweaty, and questioning all my life choices.
Inside, the reception area was sleek and intimidating. It smelt like money everywhere
“You’re late,” said a woman at the front desk with a tight smile.
I plastered on my nicest “please don’t hate me” expression. “I got held up by traffic.”
She gave me the kind of look that suggested traffic was code for I can’t tell time, then pointed toward the elevator. “Third floor. Conference Room B.”
I speed-walked so hard i almost fell on my ass.
The conference room was worse than I expected, semi-circular table, three interviewers, a seat dead center. Like a job-themed firing squad.
I took my seat, smiled at the two women on either side, and then looked at the man in the middle.
And froze.
Not because I recognized him , I didn’t.
Because he was… well, annoyingly good-looking for someone who probably spent his days buried in spreadsheets. Tall, broad-shouldered, Blonde hair, sharp jawline. The whole lot The kind of face you’d see in an expensive watch ad.
He was staring at me. Hard.
One of the women tapped his arm, snapping him out of it. “Shall we begin?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. Miss… Kingston, is it? Please introduce yourself.”
I smiled, pretending my heart wasn’t trying to escape my chest. “Aria Kingston. Twenty-four. Software developer. Degree in computer science.”
We went through the usual questions, my strengths (attention to detail), my weaknesses (getting too caught up in perfecting projects), why I wanted the job (growth, challenges, and definitely not because my rent was about to expire).
The man in the middle,( who still hadn’t smiled) kept jotting notes. Every so often, I’d catch him watching me in this strange, unreadable way, and it made my stomach twist in fear Do i look lke his mortal enemy or what.
After about twenty minutes, the woman on the left smiled. “Thank you, Miss Kingston. We’ll be in touch.”
I stood, praying my legs wouldn’t give out. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
By the time I made it out of the building, I told myself two things:
I didn’t totally bomb it.
The mysterious, intimidating man in the middle was probably allergic to smiling, and hated me and I’d never see him again. hopefully
Dominic’s POV
Call me stuck up, but I don’t remember most of my one-night stands.
Except this one.
The moment she walked into the conference room, my brain short-circuited. The silver dress. The blue eyes meeting mine across the dance floor. The note on the pillow.
And now, here she was, sitting across from me, completely oblivious.
She didn’t recognize me.
Not even a flicker.
The rest of the panel was asking her the standard questions, but I barely heard them. I was too busy watching her talk, noticing the way she gestured with her hands when she was explaining something, the little crease between her eyebrows when she was thinking.
When it was over, I waited until she’d left the room before saying, “She’s hired.”
The others looked at me like I’d just announced I was joining the circus.
“She meets all the requirements,” I added smoothly. “Let’s not waste talent.”
Aria’s POV
By the time I got home, Stacy was already sprawled on my couch with a glass of wine.
“Well?” she demanded.
I kicked off my heels. “I didn’t trip, I didn’t say anything stupid, and I only sweated through one layer of clothing. I’m calling it a win.”
“Was anyone cute?” she asked, because of course that was her priority.
I thought about Mr. Dark-and-Intense from the middle seat. “Eh. There was a guy who looked like he could be a Bond villain, but he didn’t smile once, so probably allergic to joy.”
She grinned. “All the best ones are.”
- Writer
