Chapter 3 The Interview Process

LEXI'S POV

I sat in my car outside Verity Holdings Tower for fifteen minutes after the interview, hands trembling against the steering wheel. Meeting Gabriel Verity face-to-face had been nothing like I'd expected.

The research, the magazine covers, the carefully crafted public image-none of it had prepared me for the reality of the man. Those steel-gray eyes hadn't just looked at me; they'd seemed to peer straight through Alexandra Sterling's carefully constructed facade to the woman underneath. When he'd shaken my hand, I'd felt the calluses that spoke of his construction background, the strength that came from building an empire with his own two hands.

But it was more than his physical presence that had unsettled me. Gabriel Verity was brilliant, yes, but he was also unexpectedly thoughtful. When I'd mentioned his company's values, something had shifted in his expression-surprise, maybe, or appreciation that I'd seen beyond the financial success to something deeper.

This was supposed to be simple. Get hired, gather evidence, expose whatever corruption the anonymous tip had hinted at, and prove that my father's death wasn't just an unfortunate casualty of legitimate business competition. But the man I'd just met didn't seem like a villain hiding behind charitable donations and community investments.

He seemed like someone who genuinely cared about the impact of his decisions.

My phone buzzed with a text from Dr. Sterling: How did it go?

Complicated, I typed back. He's not what I expected.

Good complicated or bad complicated?

I stared at the question, not sure how to answer. Good, because Gabriel Verity might actually be innocent of whatever crimes I was investigating. Bad, because I was already attracted to him in ways that could compromise everything.

I'll call you later, I replied.

I drove home through the afternoon rain, my mind replaying every moment of the interview. Gabriel had asked intelligent questions, but he'd also listened to my answers with the kind of focus that made me feel like the most important person in the room. When he'd leaned forward during our discussion about corporate values, I'd noticed the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, the intensity in his eyes when he'd talked about responsibility to employees and communities.

This was dangerous territory. I was supposed to be investigating him, not fantasizing about what it would feel like to run my fingers through that dark hair with its distinguished silver threads.

Back in my apartment, I pulled out a legal pad and began writing:

*Interview Debrief - Day 1

Gabriel Verity - First Impressions:

- More approachable than expected, but maintains clear authority*

- Asked thoughtful questions, seemed genuinely interested in my answers*

- Physical presence is commanding without being intimidating*

- Mentioned Elena Vasquez departure was "amicable" but seemed guarded about details*

- Office environment suggests long hours, high pressure*

- No obvious signs of corruption or unethical behavior*

Concerns:

- He studied me carefully, may be naturally suspicious*

- Mentioned background checks - need to ensure Dr. Sterling's documentation is bulletproof*

- I felt more comfortable with him than I should have*

- Need to maintain emotional distance if hired*

That last point was the most troubling. I'd expected to dislike Gabriel Verity, to find him cold and calculating. Instead, I'd found myself genuinely engaged in our conversation, impressed by his intelligence and drawn to the complexity I'd sensed beneath his professional demeanor.

I was still writing notes when my phone rang. Sarah Chen, my editor at the Tribune.

"Lexi? How's the Verity Holdings research coming? Any progress on that anonymous tip?"

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. Sarah didn't know about my plan to go undercover-she'd never approve such a risky approach.

"I'm making progress," I said. "Following up on some leads, building background on the key players."

"Good. This could be exactly the kind of story we need to boost circulation. A corruption scandal involving Gabriel Verity would be front-page news for weeks."

Something in her tone made me uncomfortable, too eager, like she wanted the story to be true regardless of the facts. "Sarah, what if there's no corruption? What if the anonymous tip was wrong?"

"Then we keep digging until we find something. Men like Gabriel Verity don't build empires by playing fair, Lexi. There's always something if you look hard enough."

After she hung up, I stared at my phone, troubled. Sarah's assumption of guilt bothered me more than it should have. Good journalism required following evidence wherever it led, not starting with conclusions and working backward.

I returned to my notes, trying to separate my personal reaction to Gabriel Verity from my professional assessment. The man I'd met today seemed genuinely committed to running an ethical company, but I'd only seen what he'd chosen to show me. The real test would come if I was hired-if I could gain access to the internal operations where real corruption would be hidden.

My laptop chimed with an email from an address I didn't recognize:

*Did you enjoy your interview today? Some people aren't who they appear to be. Be careful who you trust.*

*A Friend*

The same signature as the original tip. My anonymous source was watching, tracking my progress. The email could mean Gabriel Verity wasn't trustworthy, or it could mean someone else at Verity Holdings was dangerous. Without more context, it was impossible to know.

I forwarded the email to a secure account I'd set up for the investigation, then deleted it from my main inbox. If I was hired, I'd need to be even more careful about communications.

The rain had stopped, leaving the city washed and gleaming in the late afternoon light. I made myself a cup of tea and settled at my kitchen table with my father's old photo albums, a ritual that always helped me focus when cases got complicated.

Here was Dad at thirty, proud and smiling in front of Carter & Sons Hardware's original storefront. Here he was teaching eight-year-old me how to use a cash register, letting me help customers choose the right screws and washers. Here was the newspaper clipping from when the store had won "Small Business of the Year" three consecutive times.

And here was the last photo I had of him, taken six months before he died. The stress lines around his eyes, the way his clothes hung loose from the weight he'd lost worrying about unpaid bills and broken supplier contracts.

Gabriel Verity might not have personally targeted my father's business, but Verity Holdings' expansion had created the market conditions that destroyed small retailers like us. Even if Gabriel was personally ethical, his company's success had come at a cost measured in failed family businesses and broken dreams.

That thought steadied me, reminded me why I was doing this. I wasn't investigating Gabriel Verity because I wanted him to be guilty. I was investigating because I needed to know the truth about what had happened to my father and families like ours.

My phone rang again. Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Sterling? This is Gabriel Verity."

My heart jumped at the sound of his voice. "Mr. Verity. I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon."

"I wanted to call personally rather than having HR contact you." There was a pause, and I could hear the sounds of a busy office in the background. "I'd like to offer you the position."

Relief and terror hit me simultaneously. I was in. I'd actually gotten the job. But now the real challenge began-maintaining my cover while working inches away from the man I was investigating.

"That's wonderful news," I said, hoping my voice sounded appropriately pleased rather than panicked. "I'm honored by your confidence in me."

"Can you start Monday? I know it's short notice, but we have several urgent projects that need attention."

"Monday works perfectly."

"Excellent. HR will handle the paperwork and security clearance process. You'll need to arrive by seven AM-we start early here."

Seven AM. That would mean leaving my apartment by six-fifteen, barely time for coffee and a review of the notes I'd need to stay in character.

"I'll be there," I said. "Thank you again for this opportunity, Mr. Verity."

"I'm looking forward to working with you, Alexandra."

The way he said my fake name sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. In four days, I'd be sitting outside his office, managing his schedule, handling his confidential documents, listening to his phone calls.

In four days, I'd begin the most important and dangerous assignment of my career.

GABE'S POV

I hung up the phone and immediately wondered if I'd made the right decision. James Morrison's background report on Alexandra Sterling had been thorough and completely clean-her education verified, employment history confirmed, references glowing. On paper, she was exactly what she appeared to be.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story.

Marcus knocked and entered my office, a cup of coffee in each hand. "Heard you made a decision about the assistant position."

"Alexandra Sterling." I accepted the coffee gratefully. "James's background check came back clean, and she was the strongest candidate."

"But?"

Marcus knew me too well. We'd been friends since the early days when Verity Holdings was three people working eighteen-hour days in a converted warehouse. He could read my moods better than anyone.

"She's intelligent, professional, and qualified," I said. "Maybe too qualified."

"What do you mean?"

I walked to my window, studying the late afternoon traffic forty-five floors below. "Most executive assistants at her level are either career administrators or people using the position as a stepping stone to something else. She doesn't fit either category."

"Her references say she worked for her uncle. Family businesses can be different."

"True." I turned back to him. "What's your read on Diana's behavior lately? You mentioned she'd been asking questions about the Henderson contract."

Marcus's expression tightened slightly. "She's ambitious. Always has been. I think she's positioning herself for a promotion when the next VP slot opens."

"By questioning my decisions?"

"By making sure she understands every aspect of our operations. It could be professional development rather than insubordination."

Could be. But Diana Thornfield had a way of asking questions that felt more like interrogation than curiosity. I'd built Verity Holdings by trusting my instincts about people, and my instincts said Diana was playing a longer game than she was admitting.

"I want you to keep monitoring her access to sensitive files," I said. "Nothing obvious, just... awareness."

"You think she's a security risk?"

"I think she's ambitious enough to be a security risk if the right opportunity presented itself."

Marcus nodded, making a note on his phone. "What about the new assistant? Any special protocols?"

"Standard clearance for now. We'll see how she handles the basic responsibilities before giving her access to anything truly sensitive."

That was sensible management, but even as I said it, I knew I was being overly cautious. Elena had earned my complete trust within her first month, and I'd given her access to nearly everything by the end of her first year. But Elena had been different-older, with a teenage daughter who needed stability, clear motivations for wanting a secure, long-term position.

Alexandra Sterling was young, single, and brilliant enough to do almost anything she wanted professionally. Why had she chosen to be an executive assistant rather than pursuing her own career ambitions?

"Gabe?" Marcus was studying my expression. "You're overthinking this."

"Probably." I finished my coffee and checked my watch. "I have the board call in twenty minutes. Can you make sure the Henderson contract files are ready for Monday's presentation?"

"Already handled." Marcus stood to leave, then paused. "For what it's worth, I think hiring Alexandra Sterling was the right choice. You need someone competent in that role, and competent people always have options. Maybe she chose this job because she recognized a good opportunity when she saw it."

After he left, I tried to focus on preparing for the board call, but my mind kept drifting to tomorrow's remaining interviews. I'd already decided to hire Alexandra, but I'd committed to seeing all five candidates. Professional courtesy, and a chance to confirm that my first choice had been the right one.

The board call covered quarterly projections, the status of several major contracts, and preliminary discussions about expanding our operations into South America. Routine business that should have had my full attention, but I found myself thinking about green eyes and auburn hair, about the way Alexandra Sterling had asked direct questions without seeming presumptuous.

After the call ended, I stayed in my office reviewing personnel files. Elena's departure still troubled me. Eight years of exemplary service, then sudden resignation with minimal explanation. She'd claimed it was for "new opportunities," but she'd seemed nervous during our final conversation, almost frightened.

I'd offered her a substantial raise, flexible scheduling, even the option to work remotely part-time. She'd refused everything, insisting she needed to leave Verity Holdings entirely. When I'd asked if someone had made her a better offer, she'd just shaken her head and said she needed a change.

Now I was about to replace her with someone who intrigued me in ways that had nothing to do with professional qualifications. Alexandra Sterling had answered my questions intelligently, but she'd also challenged some of my assumptions about corporate responsibility and business ethics. Most candidates tried to tell me what they thought I wanted to hear. She'd seemed more interested in understanding what I actually believed.

That kind of intellectual engagement was rare in any context, but especially in job interviews where people typically focused on showcasing their qualifications rather than exploring complex ideas.

My intercom buzzed. "Mr. Verity? Your seven o'clock dinner meeting has been moved to eight. Traffic delays from the airport."

"Thank you, Jennifer." Jennifer was filling in as my assistant until Monday, handling basic scheduling but lacking the institutional knowledge and initiative that made Elena irreplaceable.

The delay gave me an extra hour, which I used to research Alexandra Sterling's previous employer. Dr. Richard Sterling's consulting firm was small but well-regarded, focusing on organizational development and strategic planning for mid-sized companies. His academic credentials were impressive-PhD from Harvard Business School, professor emeritus at University of Washington, author of three books on corporate leadership.

Alexandra's reference letter from him had praised her discretion, intelligence, and ability to handle complex projects independently. Reading between the lines, it sounded like she'd been more of a business partner than a traditional assistant, which explained her comfort level with strategic discussions.

That made sense, and it made her interest in working for me more understandable. After years of working closely with a brilliant academic, she might be ready for the challenge of supporting a CEO in a fast-paced corporate environment.

By the time I left for dinner, I'd convinced myself that Alexandra Sterling was exactly what she appeared to be-a qualified professional looking for a new challenge. My instinctive caution was just the paranoia that came with success, the constant awareness that people might want to use proximity to me for their own purposes.

But as I rode the elevator down to the parking garage, I found myself looking forward to Monday morning more than I had in months. Working with someone intelligent and engaged would be a welcome change after weeks of temporary assistants who required constant direction.

Alexandra Sterling might be exactly what Verity Holdings needed-and exactly what I hadn't realized I was looking for.

The thought should have been purely professional, but as I drove through the rain-slicked streets toward my dinner meeting, I couldn't ignore the fact that my anticipation had nothing to do with improved office efficiency.

For the first time in years, I was genuinely curious about someone new. And despite all my careful planning and risk assessment, I had no idea where that curiosity might lead.

Monday couldn't come soon enough.