Anything For You

|Something Fishy|

Hashim closed the door behind him and approached the desk. "I want you to hire the girl whom you met in the parking lot," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Fariz's eyes widened. "What? The girl in the parking lot? Why do you want to hire her?" he inquired, frustration evident in his voice. "She is too unprofessional, and we can't risk our company anymore with people like her."

"She is not unprofessional," Hashim replied calmly.

"You don't know her, Papa," he insisted. "She is so incompetent that she goes ranting about things she can't get. Who knows, she might do the same with another company after we hire her." He paused, his eyes narrowing as a thought struck him. "By the way, how did you know I met her in the parking lot?"

"I was behind you. I heard your conversation," Hashim said.

Fariz's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "If you heard everything, then how can you ask me to keep her?"

"Let me explain," his father spoke softly, sitting down and gesturing for Fariz to sit as well.

He hesitated, then obeyed, sitting opposite his father.

"You think she is incompetent, but I think she is just naive," Hashim began. "She doesn't know where to speak and what to say."

"But that is still wrong for our company," Fariz argued.

"Listen," Hashim continued patiently. "What I am telling you is that we can benefit from her naivety. She is not too clever, and her actions show that. This means she won't try to use her mind to cheat us, unlike your last assistant." He crossed one leg over the other, a smile playing on his lips—a smile that hinted at something deeper, something calculating. It was the kind of smile that could disarm an opponent, leaving them unaware of the game being played until it was too late.

"But don't you think that her being too naive could be a problem for us too?" Fariz pressed, his brows furrowing. "Our competitors could easily manipulate her, turning her against us."

"Exactly," Hashim chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a knowing light. "She can be easily molded, and that's what I want you to do. You can train her according to yourself."

Fariz blinked, taken aback by the statement. "But Papa—"

"Trust me," Hashim cut in smoothly, leaning forward slightly, his smile never faltering. "She will be beneficial to us. You just have to guide her and shape her into what we need. Once she's on our side, she'll be an asset, not a liability."

Fariz hesitated, weighing his father's words. The idea of controlling the situation and turning Mahnoor into a pawn in their game was tempting, but it also felt like a dangerous gamble. "Okay," he finally conceded, his voice cautious. "Let's give this a try, if you insist. But I swear, the moment she tries to act smart, I'm throwing her out."

"You're free to do that if any such thing happens," Hashim agreed, his voice smooth as silk. He rose from his seat, straightening his suit jacket as he prepared to leave. "But I have a feeling she'll surprise you in ways you haven't imagined yet."

Fariz exhaled slowly, his gaze settling on the sleek black phone sitting on his desk. With a measured breath, he reached for the receiver, the cool plastic a steady presence in his hand.

"Come in with the file of all the candidates whose interviews we were supposed to take," he ordered, his voice firm. Letting the receiver fall back into place, he slacked back in his leather chair, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Moments later, the door to his office swung open, and the HR manager entered, a stack of files clutched tightly in his hands. Fariz took them without a word, flipping through the pages with practiced efficiency. His eyes moved swiftly over the names, the qualifications, the neatly typed resumes—until they stopped. He paused, the corner of one file peeking out, drawing his attention like a magnet.