Chapter 2 The interview

Sienna Carter

Spring in Los Angeles has always been scented like jasmine fragrance, and I loved it. The freshness filled my nostrils, yet I didn't miss the desperation in it. Maybe that last part was just me. I adjusted my aqua-blue-colored blazer, making sure my silver chain sat pretty on my chest, the locket on it dangling slowly each time I heaved a breath. I reached out to push through the massive glass doors of The Atlas Group, but the sensors picked up my presence and automatically swung open. I didn't belong here. But I needed to be for my survival. Despite how perfectly styled I looked on the outside, my chic blazer on the leather pants with red-bottom matching heels announced my presence at every calculated step I took. Everything about the Atlas Group screamed power and it weirdly unnerved me. Perhaps because gaining power was the reason I always had to switch jobs yearly and the building reeks of power. "Breath, SiSi," I whispered, taking deep breaths, which did little to ease my anxiety. I made my way to the lobby. I let my eyes wander in admiration from the marble floors that gleamed beneath me to the glass walls that reflected the city skyline. The building was a fortress designed to make timid people feel small. But I wasn't raised small. Shit had happened at some point, reshaping my pedigree and all I became was a desperate woman expecting to fit in. The brunette receptionist barely glanced at me as she raised her eyes from the desktop before her. "Name?" "Sienna Carter, Please. I have an interview with the CEO, Mr. Zane Calloway." Her gaze instantly flicked up, assessing me. Whatever she saw made her lips twitch. I didn't have the energy to care. "The PA role, right?" She asked, holding my gaze. "Yes Ma'am" I replied curtly. She paused, glanced through the laptop before her, then back at me. "The others had their interview with him yesterday," she said, more to herself than to me. I didn't respond, wondering why she was confused, since she probably booked the appointment. Her manicured fingers went swiping over the keyboard with her eyes fixed on the screen again. After what seemed like an eternity but a few seconds, she nodded toward the elevator. "Top floor." "Thank you," I said, then hurriedly turned before she could see the way my fingers tightened around the strap of my bag in anxiety. I hopped into the elevator and the doors slid shut with a soft ding. I exhaled through my mouth as the elevator climbed to the 20th floor. By the time I reached the penthouse level, my pulse was an erratic drumbeat. The doors opened to an expansive office with aesthetically pleasing lighting. The sudden switch in scenery was enough to make my pupils water up. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows design gave the city an endless stretch beneath the clouds and I almost walked to it to enjoy the view if my eyes had not caught a presence. At the heart of the wall, I saw a man standing at the window, his back to me. I knew that was him. The man whose decision would decide my fate. To be well-prepared, I read extensively about him. And my best friend, Belinda Adams, also made sure I knew the company's organogram and the major players for every role I applied for, and there was so much the internet had to tell about Zane Calloway. Zane was the kind of man who moved the stock markets with a single word.He was openly ruthless. His business strategies showed he was a calculative man. The kind of man who didn't rise to power by playing fair. And now I was about to sit across from him, praying he didn't see straight through my facade to impress him enough to get myself hired. And if the whispers were true, he was far deeper into the underground operations of Los Angeles than anyone dared admit. In fact, believing that rumor to be true was one of the reasons I was there to be interviewed as his assistant. I settled my eyes on the six-foot-tall man before me. His stance was relaxed, he had his hands in the pockets of his tailored slacks, but there was nothing casual about him. Not the precision hairstyle, enhancing the tone of his dark hair. Not the cut of his designer-customized suit that defined his physique. And definitely not the lethal stillness in his posture. He was what my hopelessly romantic Belinda would describe as the Greek demigod... Zeus. If my calculations were right, he was going to be several inches tall, a head full of dark brown hair that was perfectly styled in waves and a body so toned from years of hitting the gym. As if he was on a cue, he turned to face me and suddenly, the expansive room felt smaller and hotter, making it feel like the air conditioning system stopped working abruptly. His squared face that held those icy-blue eyes locked onto me with the kind of intensity that made it clear he may already know everything about me. I had one shot at this, and I could not afford to blow it. Knowing that I wasn't scheduled with the first set of applicants meant that Life had given me this one chance to convince Zane Calloway that I was not just another overqualified applicant looking for a job. I was not going to show him that I was one scared woman with secrets buried so deep they could kill me. I walked closer, my eyes not leaving him despite how much I wanted to stand and stare at him. Those dangerously sexy full lips, covered with a fuller mustache and well-trimmed beards, and his nose, pointy and perfect for his squared face, but it was his eyes that stopped me in my tracks. And definitely not the type to miss a thing. I couldn't afford to be timid. God help me! "You're late." His voice has an edge to it, a warning I wasn't sure I wanted to test. My heartbeat began to race. I lifted my chin, ignoring the urge to wrap my arm around my chest to calm my heart. I darted my eyes as I spoke, looking between the gold-plated digital clock on his desk and his face. "Your assistant scheduled my interview for noon. It is noon." He had one dark brow lifted, his eyes watching me intently. "I expected you earlier." I forced my shoulders back. "Then you should have scheduled it earlier." Where had the confidence come from? I winced, clutching my bag to hide my nervousness away from his prying eyes. I saw a flicker of something on his face, and then it was gone immediately, replaced with a Stoic expression. "Sit." He grunted at me as he gestured a finger to the chair across from his desk. He clearly loved to be in control and be obeyed. I was not about to test his patience, knowing how much getting the job meant to me. I forced myself to move from the spot, to ignore the way his presence made the air in the room feel heavier. It wasn't working. Zane Calloway was everything the press said, and even more. He could undress any woman just by staring and, from the look at the state of my body, I knew my butt would be naked if he asked for it. His voice echoed through my body, tugging at spots I didn't even know existed inside me. Why does this man get to have this much pull over me in a few minutes? Then, I did the little trick I had learned years ago. I mentally assured myself that I had faced men like him before. Men who thought they owned the world. Zane Calloway was just another one. Except... he wasn't. I moved carefully, sinking into the chair to steady my weak legs. He didn't speak right away. Instead, he stood rooted to the spot he had been since I stepped in, watching me. The silence stretched until it was unbearable, yet I refused to succumb to my fear of him...nor to the growing moisture between my legs. Finally, he walked to his desk, lowering himself into the seat across from me with the kind of deliberate ease that made it clear he owned every inch of this place. I sighed, sucking in enough air to brace myself for the conversation that would determine my fate in Atlas Group. He didn't reach for my résumé, he didn't even glance at the portfolio marked with applicants in front of him. He just studied me. Say something, Zane Calloway, say something. I crossed my legs at the ankle, tucking my palm between my thighs as I waited for the man to speak. Then he placed a hand on his cheek, tilting his head to the side, "Tell me, Ms. Carter. Why do you want this job?" The trap question His tone suggested he was not merely asking a question, it didn't even sound like a question. He was baiting me intentionally. I knew better than to answer with the truth. I could tell him I needed a fresh start and that I was drowning under bills. That I had spent years running from a past, I barely survived. Instead, I smiled softly at him. He didn't smile back. "I'm good at what I do. And I think you're a man who only hires the best," I replied. "You think you can handle working here." He sneered, challenging me with that sentence. I tilted my head. "That depends. Are you as impossible to work for as they say?" His lips curled slightly as if he almost appreciated the answer. Almost. "I don't like liars. They repulse me," he said casually. The words sent a chill down my spine. Who was I fooling? He knows Instead of breaking, I kept my expression neutral, my hands steady in my lap. "That's convenient. Neither do I." A beat of silence passed between us and for a second I almost said something to distract the awkwardness. Then his eyes darkened, a slow, deliberate shift that sent a warning through my blood. He flipped the button on his laptop and nodded, staring at the screen. It didn't take me a second longer to realize what he was looking at. "You claimed to have worked with Baxters for three years," he said. It was a statement, not a question. But I knew what he was looking for. The gap in my records. The trail didn't quite add up. I kept my expression neutral. "That's correct." His piercing gaze pinned me to my seat. "Yet, they have no record of you. HR couldn't get any recommendation from them and all the others you claim to have worked with." My blood dried up instantly, yet I didn't flinch. Didn't break eye contact. "I left on bad terms," I said. "Not every job ends with a glowing recommendation. It is as if no one had heard of Sienna Carter ever." His stare sharpened, for a second, just one I swore he could see straight through me. Through my forged credentials. Through the carefully constructed past. Through the lies I needed to tell in order for me to keep breathing. I met his gaze, willing my heartbeat to slow. "I can get good references if that's what you're asking, but try me, I am good at my job." "I see," he said. He was deliberately pushing me and I couldn't afford to break. Because if Zane Calloway saw a single crack, he would tear me apart. Then, just as suddenly as it came, he let it go. He reached into his desk, pulling out a wad of papers. "The job pays well, as clearly stated in this contract. You will handle my schedule, work with me on operations and follow instructions without question. Understood?" Relief curled through me as I reached for the contract. The moment my fingers brushed against his, it unleashed the control I had over my insides. The burning sensation that felt slightly random set off chaos in my body. I felt my nipples taut, and the moisture dropped between my thighs. Lifting my eyes to meet his, I noticed that he stilled momentarily, holding the papers. He must have felt it, too. For a fraction of a second, his gaze dropped to where our hands touched. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. He let go of the papers at once. I cleared my throat. "Understood." His lips quirked in a smirk. A predator's satisfaction. "Welcome to The Atlas Group, Ms. Carter." And just like that, I was employed again. I exhaled, relief curling through me. But as I rose, holding his gaze, I noticed how something dark flickered behind his eyes. Suddenly, I had the chilling sensation that this wasn't just a random interview. And if there was one thing I had come to trust in my years of running around, it was my guts. What my guts were telling me at that moment was that I had no idea if Zane Calloway knew who I was and if I had just walked willingly into the lion's den. I shrugged off the feeling, replacing it with the excitement that I had at last gotten another job. It wasn't just another job. I was the personal assistant to the sexy-looking Zane Calloway of the Atlas Groups. Belinda would want to hear every inch of the encounter. *** "Easy girl, you're gripping that thing like it's about to fly out of your hands," Belinda Adams mused, legs crossed in the passenger seat, her red nails gleaming as she took a sip of the iced coffee she had smuggled into my car. "Relax, Sienna. This is supposed to be fun, remember?" The city lights blurred against my windshield as I drove down the streets, my fingers tightening around the steering wheel. I told myself it was perfectly fine and that I deserved this victory celebration. A night out with my best girl to distract me and to give me a break from the suffocating fear that had wrapped itself around my life. I forced my shoulders to loosen, inhaling deeply through my nose, "I know. "Pretty Liar." I shot her a look, but she just grinned, completely unbothered. Belinda had been my best friend since college, the one person who never let me get away with my bullshit. She flicked through the playlist on my phone, her gaze narrowing when she saw what I had on. "Absolutely not," she said, hitting the skip until an upbeat club track filled the car. "We're going to a lounge, not a funeral." I sighed, but a small smile played on my lips. This was what I needed. Normalcy. Something to remind me I was still Sienna Carter and not just a woman running from a past she could never quite escape. The conversation between us flowed easily, but after a few minutes, my paranoia crept back in. I couldn't help it. Every time I stopped at a light, I checked my mirrors. Every time a car turned in the same direction as mine twice, my fingers twitched toward my phone. I was being ridiculous about it, but I had to be. It had been five years since my father's dying words to me as he handed me the silver chain locket had been whispered through bloody lips. Stay hidden, SiSi. Stay alert. Keep this safe. It is your leverage to survive. Never let them find you. Five heart-breaking years since I buried the girl I used to be and started over. But lately, the past has been creeping back. I reached for the locket under my shirt, it had stayed on my neck through the years. I twisted the oval-shaped pendant on the locket like I do every time I needed to relive that terrible night. And there was Zane Calloway. I hadn't expected him to pull me into his world the way he had effortlessly. I hadn't expected the intensity, the way he looked at me, like he saw everything. And I sure as hell hadn't expected him to make me feel something beyond fear. Which was exactly why I needed tonight. To forget and let go. "You're doing that thing again," Belinda said, not looking up from her phone. "What thing?" "Making that humming sound you make when you are overthinking." I exhaled through my nose. She finally turned to face me. "Sienna, it's over. " Five years a long-ass time." I stayed silent, wishing I could be just as unbothered as she wanted. "You need to stop letting this ruin your life", she continued. "Look around, Sienna. You're not in danger anymore. No one's after you." I wanted to believe her. I really do. "You're right, Bel," I said, even though a part of me knew it was far from being the truth. I would never stop running. Belinda grinned. "Of course, I'm always right. Now, let's go get wasted and pretend like we don't have any work responsibilities for one night." I hesitated, letting out a deep groan. "Sienna. It's one night. One night, when you're not the girl with a terrific past. One night where you're just...YOU. Zane Calloway's new personal assistant. Just bask in that mood." I took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, girl. Let's turn this shit up." Her scream of excitement nearly made me swerve off the road. And just like that, I let myself believe for just a few hours that I was free of my haunting past.