Chapter 1 The Interview That Shouldn't Have Happened

Emery's POV

The elevator groaned beneath me as it climbed higher and higher into the clouds. I stood ramrod straight, hands clenched around the leather strap of my thrifted tote bag like it might anchor me. The walls reflected a warped version of me hair twisted into a too-tight bun, collar wrinkled, and lips chewed raw from nervous picking.

This wasn't just any job interview.

This was Hart International.

And I was about to meet Landon Hart.

The infamous CEO, whose business acumen was only rivaled by his disdain for incompetence. And I was pretty sure, to him, "incompetent" meant anyone who didn't own a private jet or a family fortune.

My fingers itched to smooth my blouse, but I resisted the urge. A tall woman beside me, all sleek blond hair and scarlet heels, gave me a once-over that said more than any words could.

Another lamb to the slaughter.

Ding.

The doors slid open to a floor that looked like a luxury penthouse white marble, glass walls, and silence so heavy it had weight. A woman with glossy black hair and a headset greeted me at a minimalist reception desk.

"Emery Clarke?"

I nodded, trying to ignore the tight twist in my stomach.

"Mr. Hart will see you now."

I followed her down a hallway so quiet my footsteps sounded like gunshots. When she opened a set of frosted doors, I didn't expect to find the CEO already seated sleeves rolled to his forearms, blazer draped on a chair, and a tablet in one hand like it was a weapon.

He didn't look up.

He didn't need to.

"Sit," he said, his voice low and smooth. I felt it more than heard it.

I slipped into the chair opposite him, conscious of the way my knees pressed together, trying not to fidget.

Another long pause.

He scrolled.

Sipped his drink.

I sat there like a statue.

Then, finally

"You're not what I expected."

My heart skipped.

"I sorry?"

His eyes met mine. They were sharp, steel-gray, and entirely unreadable. I'd seen his face on Forbes covers and financial news segments, but in person, Landon Hart didn't just radiate power he devoured the air in the room.

"I said," he repeated, "you're not what I expected."

"I know I might not look like"

"Don't explain."

His gaze dropped briefly to my hands, still clenched in my lap, then back to my face. "What makes you think you can survive here?"

"I'm qualified," I said, then hated how defensive it sounded.

"Everyone's qualified. Until they're not."

The air between us shifted, tense and humming. I forced myself to look him straight in the eye. "I don't need to be coddled. I need a chance."

A slow, dry smirk tugged at one side of his mouth. "That's what they all say."

Before I could reply, the intercom buzzed.

"Mr. Hart, Derek Shaw's team moved the merger meeting up. They're waiting in Conference B."

He stood abruptly. "Walk with me."

I blinked. "What?"

"You want the job? Prove you're useful."

He was already halfway to the door.

I scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping over my heels as I followed. "But I'm not"

"If you're about to say 'a board member,' don't. I need someone with a functioning brain, not another puppet with a gold watch."

The conference room looked like something out of a spy movie. Chrome finishes, a live ticker of market stocks running along the wall, and a table so long it could host a United Nations summit.

Men in thousand-dollar suits eyed me with open curiosity as I walked in behind Landon. I tried not to shrink under their scrutiny. Tried not to scream at the voice in my head saying, You don't belong here.

One of them tall, smug, hair slicked back like he was auditioning to be a Bond villain smiled directly at me.

"New intern, Landon?" he asked, clearly loud enough for everyone to hear. "She's cute."

"Derek," Landon said coolly, "be careful. She bites."

Soft laughter rippled around the table. I kept my mouth shut, letting the moment pass but not without noting Derek's smirk. I'd met his type before: men who saw women as ornaments unless proven otherwise.

The meeting began. Numbers flew like bullets charts, valuations, strategies. I scribbled notes furiously, trying to absorb it all. Then Derek's voice cut in.

"Well, since your assistant's here, why don't we ask her opinion on the launch delay?"

I looked up.

The room waited.

I glanced at Landon. He didn't say a word. Just watched me, his face unreadable.

So I spoke.

"The delay wasn't the problem," I said, keeping my voice steady. "The mistake was marketing a sustainable brand using single-use plastic displays. Consumers noticed. Social media killed the rollout before it even started."

Derek's brows shot up.

A few people coughed.

Landon leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on me.

"Looks like you've done your homework," he murmured.

"I like to be prepared," I replied.

For a moment, no one said anything.

Then Landon stood. "Meeting adjourned."

Back in his office, I stood just inside the door, uncertain whether to speak or vanish. Landon poured himself another drink, then offered one to me without asking.

I shook my head.

He sipped, then said, "You've got teeth."

"I hope that's not a problem."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "On the contrary. Most people in this building lost theirs a long time ago."

I crossed my arms. "So. Do I have the job?"

Landon didn't answer right away.

Instead, he walked around the desk and stood in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne something dark and expensive, with a faint edge of smoke.

"You really want to work here?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I've fought for everything I have," I said, lifting my chin. "And I'm not done fighting."

Something changed in his expression barely perceptible, like a crack in granite.

His hand reached out slow, deliberate and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. I froze, heart thundering.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Emery Clarke," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"I wasn't aware I started one."

His gaze burned into mine.

Then

The door behind me clicked open. A tall brunette in a navy suit stepped in, heels clicking against the marble.

"Landon," she said coolly. "We need to talk. Now."

His expression hardened instantly.

"Not now, Celeste."

Her eyes flicked to me, sharp and assessing. "You brought her here? Already?"

Already?

I stared at her. At him.

Something in the air shifted again.

I wasn't supposed to hear that.

Landon looked at me, jaw tight.

"Wait outside, Emery."

I didn't move. "Who is she?"

His silence said everything.

And suddenly, I wasn't sure what kind of game I'd walked into.