Conflicted

Chapter 8

Ada Johnson's P. O. V

The nerves rattling about in my stomach in the form of butterflies don't seem to have settled as my feet skirt against the marble tiled floors as I move from one expanse of a room and onto another. My bag is classed firmly in my hands as my eyes catch the sight of another intern. The woman giving me a tight lipped smile but the nervousness eating away at her as they shine brightly in her mocha coloured eyes.

My smile back falters as the persons voice in front of us booms through all of us, demanding our attention as the man straightens out his suit before clasping his hands.

"We have one more floor to go and that is the most important one of all. The boss gets to choose whichever one of you they think is capable to be their intern. You each will be assigned to a particular department and each of the heads of that department will tell you what you have to do. But fair warning, everyone in this building will tell you to do something and you better do it or so help you God." The man's rough baritone trails out as he smirks, eyeing each and every one of us for what seems like ages till he turns on his heel and resumes the tour.

Every intern makes eye contact, a few of them gulping wearily while others maintain a cocky demeanour with a spring in their steps. I mentally cross my fingers and hope for the best but compose my features into one of a poker face. Not wanting anyone to get under my skin or try and rattle me.

That isn't happening.

Not on today of all days.

The elevator ride is silent of all talk as we all stand in an uncomfortable silence while the man giving us our tour keeps turning back to smirk at us. It's almost like he's trying out a failed intimidation tactic because all it's doing is pissing me off more and more.

Stepping out of the elevator, I find myself at the back of the small crowd of eight interns along with the employee whose too busy chatting up the secretary whose desk is placed in the middle of the office. "Is the big boss in the office?" Ross, our tour guide asks the secretary who nods while letting out a laugh.

"He should be doing his morning rounds right about now." The woman quips with one last smile before focusing back on her computer and leaving the man out to dry as his smirk falters for a second.

"Alright. These stack of papers I have here with me," Ross indicates to the papers he's lifting off of the woman's desk as he shuffles them, "They will be randomly allocated to you. Whatever department you get, you'll have the day to day work written accordingly. Then we'll be having rotations in which you'll be assigned a different department and the day to day list of that. Everyone understand?" We all nod our heads but that doesn't seem to please him enough.

"You do not shake or nod your head! Do you all hear me? I need verbal-,"

"Ross. It's too early in the damn morning for you to be screaming your head off like this. You better have a legitimate reason." Cuts off a voice.

My eyebrows furrow and if I was a dog, my ears would perk up and my head would tilt to the side as I'd try and decipher that voice.

Why is that so familiar?

My answer comes in the form of a man turning the corner and coming into view. A grey suit nicely fitted with a light blue button up underneath and a patterned tie to match strides towards us. The blue shirt matching the man's equally glistening eyes as they both resemble blue skies after a heavenly shower, looking so vibrant and cleansed of all sins. The man's tousled blond hair and square set jaw leaves my mouth dropping as both of our eyes connect.

The man seems to be equally taken aback as he halters in his movement, coming to a stop right in front of our small group as he opens and closes his mouth for a split second before resuming his façade. His eyes glance at Ross whose smirk now turns into a sheepish smile before he steps back into action.