Chapter 5 EPISODE 5

Is there any possibility that I will be able to visit him today?

There is just no way you will be visiting Mr. Woods today unless you are a multi-millionaire trying to execute a merger or are applying for a job.

I turn around before shoving my stress ball down her throat after burning holes into the side of her skull with my fiery eyes.

Furiously, I make my way to the elevators, pulling out my phone and quickly calling Nate's number. A blonde gives me a sneer before marching off to her office, and I snarl at her.

I said, "Nate, he isn't available for five months, I'm never going to be able to talk to him," and he replied, "Unless I'm a hot blonde applying for a job or a fucking millionaire."

"Are you truly a quitter that quickly? He chuckles.

"Well, what's a girl to do?"

"Of course, enter and act as if you are a millionaire or an attractive woman asking for a job. Insist on seeing him. When you receive the job, I want to see Victoria and Emily's faces.

"Seriously? Enter there and tell lies until I meet him? Fuck off already. I would be apprehended in an instant, I whispered.

"Do it! Be less of a baby! Go enlist Mr. Sexy Woods' approval. Fake the assurance that big Latino ass of yours exudes while wearing that Balmain gown. He shouted, "Now leave before I storm in and shove you into his god damn office.

After hanging up the phone and sighing, I went back to my office. I entered the elevator after sneaking past the snarky front desk clerk.

Because I thought the most important office was there, I chose the top option. A receptionist was behind her desk when I suddenly found myself on the top floor. I approached yet another attractive girl and attempted to regain my confidence as she locked eyes with me.

Can I assist you? She asked in a stern voice.

I confidently said, "Yes, I have a meeting with Mr. Woods."

"Name, kindly?"

"Isabella Jones," I said in response. She continued to type on her computer before turning to face me again.

She said in a monotone, "Sorry, there's no appointment for a Ms. Jones today.

I raise an eyebrow, "Well, there has to be some sort of error. I'm applying for the receptionist job."

She lifts her finely sculpted eyebrow and asks, "Oh really now?" "I don't think that'll be necessary, you don't quite fit the part. Nice try though," she says with a phony smile.

My arms are crossed across my chest as I ask, "What do you mean by that?"

Let's not get into details, she says with a phony smile. "Please go, I have to get back to work," I said.

I frowned at her and made fists with my hands by my side. Do you know where the restrooms are located?

She rolls her eyes and keeps her gaze fixed on the computer. I said, "Down the hall."

I respond in jest, "Thank you so much for your assistance.

Nate's idea is a sham. I have a personal one.

I made my way down a lengthy hallway, trying to figure out where his office might be. I come to a stop in front of a massive mahogany door, and the notion of him being inside makes my stomach turn. As I peered down the large intimidating doors, I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress.

I held my breath while squeezing my eyes shut and then knocked on the doors.

There was a loud voice saying, "Come in." As I fixed my wide-eyed gaze on the door, my stomach sank. Before striding into the room, I inhaled deeply, threw my shoulders back, and tossed my hair over my shoulder.

Give feedback, young ladies?

He had his hands on his lap and was reclining in his chair. His unkempt blonde hair was perfectly quiff-ed. He was wearing an Armani suit jacket over a white dress shirt that was fully buttoned. I recently saw that his tattoos were hidden by his suit jacket and was about to frown when I realized why I was in this place.

The confidence I had managed to muster when I began this plan was instantly destroyed as his eyes swept over me. He fixed me with a cold look.

He raises an eyebrow and asks, "And who are you?"

I squeak, "My name is Isabella."

He inquires, "Isabella is it?"

I just called him sir, did I not? "Yes sir."

With a flick of his index finger, he signals for me to go to his desk. I move over to his desk, gulping anxiously. His gaze followed my hips as they swung back and forth.

He directed his order at the chair, "Sit." He laughed a little, but his voice sounded a little raspy. I made an effort to look away, but I couldn't help but be pulled to his eyes, which appeared too bright for his generally gloomy countenance.

As I sit, my left leg is placed over my right. Isabella, that's me.

"You already said that, Isabella."

My face started to flush red as I trembled and fiddled with my ring. "Sorry."

His chin was resting on his hands clasped in front of him as he pushed his chair forward and leaned forward on the desk. "My recpetionist didn't escort you in here, so you most definitely aren't here for a job interview," the recpetionist said.

I attempted to speak, but he kept going. Before my security guard Patrick comes and escorts you out, you have one minute to speak.

My mouth opened wide. How did you find out?

He chuckled softly, the amusement escaping his hazel eyes, "Are you kidding me?" You're a brunette, and I expressly stated no brunettes. My employees don't blunder. Secondly-" I interrupted him.

What do you dislike about brunettes?

"Second of all, don't interrupt me when I talk. When I talk, you listen and wait for me to finish," he adds adamantly as he sneered at me. Last but not least, I take it that you are Isabella Jones from Olivia Global, whom I politely requested not to approach me again.

I wryly remarked, "That's hardly what I would call asking nicely, you threatened to get a restraining order against me. I stopped talking as soon as his look turned menacing.

Hissing, "Your minute is up. Get out or I'll get Patrick to drag you out," he said. I winced in response to his look but yet managed to speak.

"Please, Mr. Woods. All I'm asking for is one interview at Olivia Global-"

"I said leave,"

I gave him a startled look before letting my Latino identity and anger-management skills show. I warned you that if you yell at me, I'll flip the bird. I got to my feet and crept perilously close to his glittering eyes across the desk. He's a fucking dick, and I won't put up with it.

I exploded, calling Mr. Woods "mean and fucking rude." "The hell with your interview. There is no way in hell I would waste my time writing about a frecking prick, such as yourself. I'm glad you refuse to do this interview."