ONE MONTH AGO . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It was early Monday morning, and my phone wouldn’t stop ringing.
Each buzz seemed to disturb my beauty sleep.
With a groggy sigh, I reached for it, not even bothering to check the caller ID.
"Hello?" I mumbled, half-asleep.
"Good morning! May I speak to Ms. Alison Williams?"
The voice on the other end was sharp and professional, instantly cutting through my sleep.
"Yes, speaking. How can I help you?"
I replied, sitting up, curiosity piqued.
"This is Rose from Mr. Raichand's office." That name jolted me awake.
"I'm calling to inform you that you've been shortlisted for the Assistant position. Can you come in for an interview today at noon?"
I nearly dropped the phone.
I couldn't believe it—the Raichand Corporation!
"Yes, absolutely! I'll be there," I said, trying to keep the excitement from making me sound like a giddy schoolgirl.
After she shared the details and hung up, I bounded out of bed, the sleepiness long gone.
I got fresh and rushed downstairs finding my mom in the kitchen.
"Mom, you'll never believe it—I got a call from Mr. Raichand's office! They want me in for an interview today!" I could barely contain my excitement.
Her face lit up with pride, and she hugged me tight.
"I knew you could do it, Alison. Go give it your best shot!"
"Thanks, Mom!" I grinned, feeling unstoppable as I grabbed my things and headed out the door.
I arrived at Raichand Tower the tallest building in the city.
By the time I reached in nerves had started to creep in.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside and made my way to the reception desk, where a blonde, impeccably dressed woman greeted me with a smile.
"Good morning! I'm Alison Williams, here for the interview," I said, trying to match her composure.
"Good morning, Ms. Williams.
The interviews are on the 55th floor please take the left elevator," she replied smoothly.
"Thank you," I said, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach.
Clutching my coffee from the café across the street, I headed for the elevator, lost in thought about the interview.
And that's when disaster struck.
I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and walked straight into a solid wall—or so it felt.
Coffee flew out of my cup, splattering all over my outfit, and I landed badly on the floor.
"Great.
Just great," I muttered, looking up to assess the damage.
But instead of a wall, I found myself staring at a man.
Correction a very angry and handsome man. His piercing eyes glared down at me, and I suddenly realized why he was so upset.
I’d just spilled coffee all over his pristine white shirt.
"Damn!" Well I can buy him a new one.
Just before I could apologize, he spoke, his tone icy.
"Are you blind?
Watch where you're going, you clumsy girl!"
Scolding me, he started to leave from there and completely ignored me; at that point, I felt a wave of anger washed over me.
What the actual hell ! I was going to apologize to him for bumping accidentally, but I guess he needs the taste of his own medicine.'
"Excuse me?
Who the hell do you think you are,
You’re the one who came out of nowhere!
My dress is ruined too, you know," I shot back.
He stopped and asked angrily.
"What did you say?".
"Ooh! Are you deaf!
Or should I repeat myself for you?" I asked sarcastically.
He got more angry at my words, turning to face me fully.
"What makes you think, That I will really care about your silly dress.
Huh ?" saying that he looked me from head to toe.
"Do you have any idea how much this shirt costs?" he sneered.
I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.
"Enlighten me" I said.
"Ten thousand dollars," he said smugly, clearly expecting me to be impressed.
My jaw dropped.
Fucking hell he must be kidding me.
Who spends that much on a shirt?
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Well, maybe you should have invested money in some manners instead."
His eyes narrowed in annoyance as he looked at me, clearly irritated by my lack of awe.
"I doubt you've ever seen that kind of money in your life. he said"
Fuming, I scribbled my name and number on a piece of paper and thrust it at him.
"Send me your account details, and I’ll pay you back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an interview to get to."
I stormed off, but inside, panic set in.
What did I just do? I didn’t have that much money! I could only hope he'd forget about it.
Getting myself clean I then got in the elevator.
Finally reaching the 55th floor, I composed myself and approached the receptionist, Ms. Rose James.
She directed me to wait for a moment before asking me to head into the office.
"Mr. Raichand is ready to see you," she said.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
"Come in," a deep voice responded.
I walked in, my heart pounding.
But as the chair slowly turned to reveal the man behind it, I felt my stomach drop.
It was him.
The guy I had just yelled at in the hallway—the one with the $10,000 shirt.
A smirk played on his lips as he watched recognition dawn on my face.
I stood frozen, my brain scrambling for an escape plan, but he simply gestured for me to sit.
To my surprise, the interview went on smoothly, almost as if our earlier encounter hadn’t happened.
He was professional, composed, and completely different from the man I had faced just minutes ago.
And then, the moment I thought I’d be shown the door, he did the unthinkable—he offered me the job.
Confused didn’t even begin to cover how I felt.
Was this some kind of trick?
What was he planning?
As I left his office, my mind spun with possibilities, all while the memory of his smirk lingered.
To be continued . .
YOU ARE READING
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