Glancing at his watch, he offered me a twitch of a smile. “I have an urgent appointment now, but I have a feeling we’ll meet again.” He walked toward his beautiful car parked at the curb.
I stared at him for a minute before realization dawned. “Wait,” I called out, nearing him. “Your coat?”
About to slide behind the wheel, he turned. “I think you need it more than I do.” His gaze rested briefly on my skirt, peeking through the coat opening.
“B-but how will I return it. I don’t even know your name,” I whispered.
“Give me your mobile.”
“My mobile?” I asked. He nodded. Confused, I opened my bag. Retrieving the phone, I unlocked the screen and handed it over. Distracted by his attractiveness, I wondered what I’d done to deserve his kindness. So far, everything was going against me. We hardly shared any words, but his appearance was like a breath of fresh air in my dull life, almost like the prince charming I’d wished for occasionally to rescue me from my depressing life.
“Here.” He handed the phone back. “Until we meet again.”
I smiled, watching him climb into his car. When he drove off, I glanced at my phone. A small laugh seeped past my lips. He’d saved his number as ‘Prince.’ Noticing the time on the phone, I shrieked, “shit.” I was late by three minutes, to be precise. Tugging the lapels of the large coat, I buttoned it, rolled the long sleeves above my wrists while running down the marble-tiled path to the office entrance.
The only available time slots for the interview was seven in the evening. Unperturbed, I’d accepted, expecting to arrive early. A night guard approached, tagged an access card to a console I couldn’t see, and pulled open the glass doors. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, please. I have an appointment with Miss Tamara Princeton.”
“Wait there, please.” He gestured to the foyer then returned to the reception desk. A couple of seconds later, he looked up. “She’ll be down shortly.”
“Thank you.” I sank into one of the plush sofas. My gaze swept the reception area. Soft cream and white walls, broken intermittently by pastel shades of peach and green paintings, gave the room a luxurious atmosphere—everything bespoke style and sophistication. A company dealing with high-end jewelry would ensure their standards were extraordinary.
“Sianna?” A woman’s voice, sharp and unfriendly, cut through my admiration. I shot to my feet. “I’ll be filling in for Tamara.” I hadn’t expected to be interviewed by one of the Princeton’s, but the air of authority in this woman’s words gave me no chance to scrutinize her appearance. However, it didn’t stop her from conducting one of her own, as evident by her next words. “That’s a nice coat you have on. A bit oversized, wouldn’t you say?” she said, her words clipped yet offering no introduction.
Embarrassment tinged my cheeks. My gaze dropped to the floor, finding myself at a loss for words. When I glanced up, the strange look on the woman’s face, almost envious in appearance, left me a little baffled.
“Follow me.” She gestured to a passage leading out of the reception area and opened the second door. I entered the small boardroom, took a seat, and looked up expectantly. “Not keen to remove your coat?” she asked.
Again, my skin flushed. The woman’s stern features weren’t exactly welcoming, and I toyed whether to tell her the truth or not. With a deep swallow, I stood and opened the buttons on the coat. “Forgive my attire, but I had an accident with a cab door on my arrival here.” I parted the coat to reveal my torn skirt.
She eyed the frayed edges then gave me a small smile. I couldn’t call it friendly or understanding. “Have you been to our offices before?” She pulled out one of the leather chairs and sat down.
I shook my head and retook my seat. “No.”
“Have you met any of our Executive staff, Sianna? You know, on a personal basis?”
I found the question a little strange to begin an interview. “No. Honestly, I received the call from the agency quite late, which gave me no time to read up on the company.” Jenna did say Tamara Princeton wouldn’t worry about it. However, my doubts remained about the woman sitting in front of me.
“According to your cv, you were a junior temp secretary, no experience in C-suite and your interests lie in the food industry, why would you want a position as an Executive Assistant in a precious stones business. That’s a massive stretch of the mindset?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, debating truth over lies. “I believe in honesty, and I need a job. It’s the reason I’m here,” I whispered.
Surprisingly, her only response was a mere arch of a brow while her green gaze roved over me. Whether it was contemplative or not, I couldn’t tell. The woman’s impassive features hidden beneath a thick layer of make-up would score her a win at poker. “Your reason for leaving your last job was not listed on your CV. Care to elaborate?” she finally asked.
I swallowed. “I’m loyal, hardworking, and dependable. Most importantly, I’m honest. I’d rather you hear the truth from me than some gossipmonger later. My boss fired because I wouldn’t sleep with him.” I went full steam with the truth, expecting a reaction from the woman.
She remained stone-faced for a while before folding her arms on the table, subtly reminding me of a scared kid facing the school principal for something she hadn’t done. “So, not only are you late for your interview, you’re inappropriately dressed, haven’t done your homework on the company, and you were fired. It doesn’t say much about your skill set or integrity for that matter, does it?”
I gasped at the biting edge to her words, taken aback by her inference that I wasn’t an ideal candidate without actually interviewing me. God, it was as if the woman either didn’t possess a speck of sympathy given my honesty, or she just didn’t like me. “With all due respect—”
“Let me cut to the chase, Sianna,” she rudely interrupted before I could get a word in edgewise, tightening the muscles at my back. “In fairness to Jenna and the short notice, she wasn’t given much information on the position since Tamara was scheduled to meet with you. Something came up, and I don’t normally handle interviews. But.” Her eyes tapered into frosty slivers. “Not being informed about your reason for leaving your previous company speaks to a lack of professional courtesy by the agency. That said, this interview is over. There’s the door. I’m sure you know the way out.” With that parting shot, she got up and left the room, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed through the room.
What the fuck?
“God, am I like a freaking cosmic tragedy or something?” I squeaked. What the hell just happened? Too dumbfounded to move, I sat there for a moment longer, staring at the door, willing it to give me an answer. I’d never met such unprofessionalism before.
With the lethargy of someone who carried a burden on her shoulders, slowly, I stood and made my way toward the exit. When I reached the curb, I hailed a cab and prayed that a Netflix series would keep my aunt engrossed by the time I got home. I was in no mood for her bickering.
Drake
I JOGGED IN THROUGH my Fifth Avenue apartment's carousel doors and took the eight flights of stairs at a quick pace up to the penthouse suite. Opening the door, I glanced at the Fitbit Versa on my wrist. “Not bad.” I grabbed a bottled water from the refrigerator, unscrewed the cap, and quickly downed three quarters.