He picks up a bottle of passion fruit juice from the table—using a straw, he sips, his lips curving ever so slightly in what seems like amusement.
There are several other bottles of the same on the table, and I can't help but notice: the man clearly has a thing for passion fruit too.
But that's not what matters now. What matters is that I've never been one to back down so easily, especially when the stakes are this high.
I clear my throat, trying to summon a shred of confidence. With my best attempt at an innocent grin, I say, "Small world, huh? Fancy seeing you here… uh, sir." I even throw in an exaggerated, awkward bow, hoping it might at least win me a laugh—or maybe, just maybe, a bit of mercy.
He doesn't laugh. Not even a smirk.
Instead, he takes another slow sip from his bottle and then, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather, says, "On second thought, I'll let him have the interview."
The lady who brought me in and the two other men at the table, and I all freeze in collective surprise.
Did he really just say that? This is the same man who, moments ago, declared, "A no is a no," with such conviction it made my stomach sink. Now, suddenly, he's giving me a shot?
He leans back in his chair, steeples his fingers, and stares at me. It's not a normal stare—it's calculated, cold, and unnervingly amused, as if he's trying to decide exactly how to toy with me.
For a second, I squirm under his gaze. But then, something inside me clicks. If I'm going to crash and burn here, I might as well go out with a bang.
"So, before we begin, I just want to say," I start, forcing a casual tone as I glance around the room, "I've heard great things about this company. Really solid place you've got here. Love the vibe, the… professionalism." I gesture vaguely at the room like I'm giving a tour. Without waiting for an invitation, I pull out a chair and sit down.
"Did anyone ask you to sit?" one of the men beside him snaps, glaring at me like I've just committed a cardinal sin.
I offer a shrug and reply, "Honestly, I've been waiting for someone to ask, but it hasn't happened. And, as you can see, I'm not feeling so great." I point to the bandage on my nose. "I had an accident this morning. Someone broke my nose and, uh, my leg. So, if it's alright, I'm just going to sit—whether you asked or not."
The room falls silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I can feel their judgment radiating toward me, but I press on, undeterred.
"Anyway," I continue, shifting gears, "I'm Julian Wilson. Sorry for being late, but it wasn't intentional. And thanks for letting me have my chance anyway."
The CEO—the same man who broke my nose earlier today—leans forward then. Slowly, deliberately, a smile creeps across his face. It's not warm or kind. It's the smile of someone who's about to thoroughly enjoy making someone else's life miserable.
"Yes," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sit. I bet you're in so much pain."
There's a gleam in his eyes now, sharp and predatory, and I know he's up to something. Before I can say anything, he announces, "Congratulations. You're hired, Mr. Julian Wilson. You're going to love it here—this company is every worker's dream."
My mouth falls open. For a moment, I'm so stunned I can't form words. Did he just… hire me? Without so much as a real interview?
His expression tells me everything I need to know. He's got plans for me, alright—plans that have absolutely nothing to do with giving me a cushy job.
"What?" one of the other men blurts out, clearly just as shocked as I am. "Sir, this kid is a total mess! Trust me, you don't want to hire him—especially not without a proper interview. We've got plenty of other candidates who are way more qualified."
"No," the CEO replies coolly, "I think we should hire him. After all, he's clearly determined. I mean, he showed up late and injured but still made it here. Isn't that exactly what we're looking for? Determination?"
His sarcasm is so thick you could spread it on toast, but his tone leaves no room for argument.
"But, sir—" the other man tries again.
"That's final," the CEO cuts him off, standing abruptly. "And he's starting now." With that, he strides out of the room, leaving everyone, including me, in stunned silence.
"What the hell just happened?" one of the men mutters under his breath, exchanging bewildered glances with the others.
I'm too stunned to respond. My mind is racing, trying to piece together what just transpired. Why would he hire me like this? Is this some elaborate scheme to humiliate me further?
Moments later, the same lady from earlier appears, holding some papers. She hands it to me, a pen ready, and asks me to sign. I don't even bother reading it. My mind is still reeling from the whirlwind of events. I scribble my name and hand it back to her without hesitation.
As she walks away, I feel a strange mix of triumph and unease. Sure, I've got the job—but at what cost? The CEO is up to something. That much is obvious.
But honestly? I don't care.
I have a job. A real one. And maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something. Whether it's a nightmare or a blessing remains to be seen, but for now, I'll take it.
Though I can't shake the feeling that I've just walked straight into a trap. But then again, I've always been pretty good at slipping out of sticky situations.
I grin to myself.
This should be interesting.
The two men keep glaring at me , but seriously, who cares wha they think!