Secret [British Villains]

❥ chapter VI

About ten minutes later, you had arrived at your destination and were now standing in front of Jaguar's dealership on Berkeley Street. You cast a glance at your watch—it was five minutes to four o'clock—and entered the car dealership, walking up to a counter where a rather bored-looking woman was seated, but she put on a friendly smile as soon as she caught sight of you.

"Good day, miss. What can I do for you?" she asked.

"Good day. I have a job interview in a couple of minutes," you told her with a smile of your own while briefly smoothing down your clothes. "With a certain Mister Strong, I suppose. You see, he was the one who called me."

A look of realization dawned upon her face, and she looked down, flipping through the pages of a personal organizer lying on the desk in front of her before lifting her gaze again. Her smile had turned into a small, lopsided smirk. "You must be Miss [Surname]." She stood up and motioned you with a wave of her hand to follow her. "This way, please. Mister Strong is already waiting for you."

The woman led you across the showroom to the private rooms in the back of the dealership, past brightly polished and waxed cars, customers who looked like they were rolling in money, and other employees dressed in formal clothing just like you. The heels of her pumps were constantly clicking against the gealimg black tiles covering the floor of the showroom, but the repetitive sound got muffled by the dark carpet in the back rooms.

In front of a wooden door at the end of the hallway with a gold sign with "Mark Strong" engraved on it, she came to a halt and turned around to you. "Here we are. Good luck, miss." And with these words, she went in the direction you two had come from just a moment ago, leaving you standing somewhere in the back rooms of a place you had never been before. Great.

You straightened your clothes one last time—and, while doing so, wiped possible sweat off your hands—took a deep breath, and knocked at the door, the thick wood absorbing large parts of the sound. Yet, barely two seconds later, you heard a muffled "Come in," but as you were reaching for the doorknob, the door was already opened from within the room, revealing a half-bald, almost shaven-headed man in a light grey suit standing behind a clean and tidy, mahogany desk at the other end of the room, right across from the door.

"Good day," he greeted you, smiling warmly. "Miss [Surname], right?" His smooth voice gave him away as the person who had called you earlier, if you hadn't already been convinced by the fact that he had apparently been sitting at the desk before you had entered.

That, on the other hand, made you aware of the presence of another person in the room, because Mr. Strong could not have possibly been the one who had opened the door for you. He simply had not been able to do so since he was across the room and not anywhere near the door.

"Exactly. And you must be Mister Strong. I'm very pleased to meet you," you said with a bright smile and entered the room.

With four long, heavy steps, Mr. Strong had crossed the room and was now standing in front of you, seizing your hand in a hearty handshake. "The pleasure is all mine." He gestured towards something—or someone—at the door. "May I introduce Mister Cumberbatch to you? He will attend our job interview, if you have no objection."

A black-suited man stepped into your field of view, his blue-green eyes piercing into yours the very moment you returned his gaze. "Pleased to meet you, Miss [Surname]," he spoke, his baritone voice ringing in your ears. "I hope you don't mind my presence."

"No, not at all. I don't mind," you replied, shaking his extended hand firmly. "Nice to meet you too, Mister Cumberbatch."

Without further ado, Mr. Strong pointed to the two chairs standing in front of his desk, and you immediately complied with his request to sit down as Mr. Cumberbatch closed the door behind you, but the latter didn't take a seat and remained standing near the door. His unrelenting gaze followed your every step, arousing a tingly feeling in your back. You pushed away the wondering thought as to why he was just standing around and watching you; you had another, more important matter at hand right now.

"Did you find your way here all right, Miss [Surname]?" Mr. Strong enquired after sitting down in the large leather swivel chair across from you.

"Why, yes, thank you for your concern," you answered. "I had no difficulties getting here."

He darted a look at what you presumed to be Mr. Cumberbatch and gave a scarcely noticeable nod himself. Then, he leaned forward and studied your face with vigilant eyes while folding his hands on the shiny surface of his desk. "As you may have already noticed, Miss [Surname], this job interview isn't taking place under normal circumstances," he began.

A sudden suspicion, nothing more than a lurking premonition, a bad feeling you couldn't really put your finger on, tied a knot in your stomach. You nodded again, without saying a single word. Your courteous smile was gone; you were too concentrated on your current, peculiar situation to keep up the air of polite friendliness. You didn't know what was going on or where this would go, thus you would just stay alert for the time being.

"It is true that one of our employees has strongly recommended you for a position in our company," Mr. Strong continued and leaned back in his chair, placing his folded hands on his lap. His eyes never left you. "He told us that you have an instinctive curiosity and, as he put it, 'a remarkably keen sense of observation.' I believe that you have already met him and remember him quite well, Miss [Surname]."