After he storms inside, I'm left standing outside the building, holding my empty coffee cup and feeling like an absolute disaster. My mind is racing. Should I still go in? Did I just blow my only shot at this job before I even got in the door?
I take a deep sigh. I've come this far, I can't just turn back now. My mind flickers back to the note I saw earlier this morning. I need this job. But what are the odds Mr. Crane will even consider my application after what just happened?
Steeling myself, I wipe my hands on my skirt, toss the cup in the trash, and head inside. I go through a security guard and a metal detector before I enter the building.
The reception lobby is sleek, polished marble floors and towering ceilings making it feel more like a luxury hotel than an office. A few people look in my direction as I walk up to the receptionist, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping at a keyboard without missing a beat.
"Hi," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm Aria—here for the 9:30 interview."
The receptionist's eyes flicker to me, and her polite smile falters for just a second before she nods. "Ms. Cole, right?
"Yes."
"The conference room is on the fifth floor. First door on your right. Here's your visitor ID." She says as she scribbles something in a book then hands over a card to me. "They're expecting you."
They?
Expecting me? After that scene? I force myself to smile back, whispering a quick "Thank you" before collecting the card. I make my way to the bank of elevators, my heart pounding louder with every step.
I stop at the first empty one and put my card into a slot at the side. A keypad light up and asks me to input password. I stare blankly at it for a while. I'm about to go back to the reception when a young guard dressed in a crisp suit comes to my rescue.
He removes the card from the slot and turns to the back where the number 101 is inscribed in large letters. He inserts the card again and types the number into the keypad and the elevator opens.
Oh.
I thank him, retrieve my card and step in.
The elevator ride feels like it's taking forever. My heart is practically doing backflips in my chest as I press myself against the back wall, trying to stay calm. When I finally reach my stop, the doors slide open to reveal another sleek lobby, identical to the first.
Another guard collects my card to inspect it. After the inspectiona corridor of eight offices. Four on the right, four on the left.
Timidly, I knock on the first door on the right.
No answer. I knock again, this time more louder than before.
The door is opened by the stout looking man who was outside with Mr Crane earlier. He looks surprised to see me. As he opens his mouth to say something, I hear a voice say "Let her in already"
The man moves away from the entrance and I clutch my handbag tighter.
There are three other people in the room apart from him. A petite blonde, who looks to be in her mid twenties sits at the right side of the conference table dressed in a off-white shirt, and a black skirt that clings to her body like a second skin. Even with no makeup, she looks like someone who just stepped out of a beauty commercial with her glossy, flowing hair and milky white skin.
Sitting directly opposite her is a man in a corporate business suit. He wears wire-framed glasses and his thinning dark hair looks like it's been dyed numerous times in contrast to his graying beard.
Why not just dye the beard too?
And of course, sitting at the head on the table is the CEO himself, Mr Crane.
Nolan Crane eyes narrow when he sees me. For a split second, I consider bolting. But I take a deep breath and step , determined not to let this slip-up ruin my chance.
I see a flicker of recognition in his eyes—then surprise, as if he's just piecing something together. I freeze, debating if I should make a run for it. But this is my shot, and I'm not letting anything ruin it.
"Miss… Cole?" His tone is edged with curiosity, like he's seeing a ghost. His lips press together for a second, and I swear I catch a faint smirk.
"Yes, Mr. Crane," I say, my voice steady but my cheeks starting to burn. "About earlier… I'm really sorry. That was… not how I planned to make a first impression."
He gives me a quick, amused glance. "So, you're the one interviewing for the secretary position?"
I nod, trying to muster some dignity. "Yes, sir. I didn't realize… I mean, this morning was just—"
"A complete accident, I'm sure," he interrupts, a faintly bemused look on his face. He glances at everyone in the room, who all look equally surprised. "Actually," he says with a nod, "I'll handle Miss Stone's interview personally. No need for anyone else."
My stomach does a flip. He's handling it personally? That's quite odd. I've never heard of any ordinary CEO interviewing potential employees by himself. And this is not an ordinary CEO. He's Nolan Crane. The heir of the Crane group.
Shit! Is it because of what happened earlier? Is he planning to make me pay for that coffee shower? We walk outside and I force a smile as he gestures for me to follow him down the hallway, his expression unreadable.
We walk down the sleek corridor, my heels clicking in sync with his polished shoes. I sneak a glance at him, trying to decipher if he's mad or just... plotting something. His face is unreadable, jaw set, eyes forward, and he looks every bit the ruthless CEO I've heard whispers about.
Nolan stops in front of an office with floor-to-ceiling glass walls, and gestures for me to step inside first. I take a steadying breath and walk in, glancing around. The office is as intimidating as he is—minimalistic yet luxurious, with a massive desk, leather chairs, and a cityscape view that feels like it stretches for miles.
"Sit," he says, his voice as smooth as it is commanding.
I settle into one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, clutching my bag tightly in my lap as he takes his place across from me. For a moment, he just studies me, fingers steepled as if he's measuring my worth with one long look. It's unnerving, but I keep my chin up, determined not to let him see how rattled I am.
"So, Miss Cole," he starts, breaking the silence, "apart from your expertise in spilling coffee, what exactly qualifies you for this position?"
A half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and I catch a glint of mischief in his eyes. Is he... teasing me? Or testing me?
"Well, Mr. Crane," I reply, trying to match his cool tone, "I'm excellent at organizing schedules, handling sensitive information, and," I raise an eyebrow, "learning from mistakes."
"Hm." His gaze sharpens. "You seem very sure of yourself, Miss Cole." He pauses, then leans forward, looking directly into my eyes. "Tell me, do you always throw yourself at people in the street, or is that just for prospective employers?"
Heat rushes to my cheeks, but I manage a small smile. "Only for very, very special cases, sir."
Nolan chuckles, low and almost surprising, and it's the kind of laugh that seems really eerie.
"Alright, let's get to it," he says, sliding a file across the table toward me. "I want you to draft a response to this email. It'll give me an idea of how you'd handle a sensitive communication."
I open the file, glancing down at the email subject: Board Meeting on Financial Shortfalls. My heart pounds a little. This is heavy stuff for a first-day assignment.
"Don't take too long," he adds, checking his watch. "I'll give you... let's say five minutes."
"Five minutes?" I say, wide-eyed. "That's hardly—"
"Four minutes now," he interrupts, his eyes gleaming with the challenge.
I quickly grab a pen, scanning the email and frantically scribbling a response that's formal, apologetic, and subtly reassuring. When I finally finish and slide the file back, I can barely breathe.
Nolan reads over my response, his face unreadable. Finally, he raises an eyebrow. "Impressive for four minutes," he mutters.
He leans back in his chair, "I like a secretary who knows when to step up. The last one was way too old fashioned for my liking. She was good at other things out of the office though."
Wait, what other things? It couldn't be what I'm thinking, right?
There's a brief pause, then he tilts his head. "Although, Miss Cole, I'd prefer if next time, you bring the coffee. And maybe try not spilling it on your boss."
I laugh, tension breaking just a little. "I'll try my best to resist," I say, meeting his scowl head-on.
Does he not like it when people laugh? Noted.
"So, you can sit here for now while I tend to other things. Don't move a muscle from that chair till I come back. Then you will be assigned your office"
"Does that mean I'm hired?"
"Yes, for now. You'll be listed as my assistant, but that's not quite the job. You're here to make sure I have what I need, and sometimes, what I need isn't exactly... typical."
He gives me a long, unreadable look, then adds, "I'll expect you to keep up."
Before I can even respond, he straightens his cuffs, turns, and strides out of the office without another word. The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with a tight chest, a thousand questions, and one looming thought: What on earth did I just sign up for?