I looked at her in wonder, amazed at the coincidence and her quick deduction.

"Yes!" she shrieked.

"Tahlia.. What's going on?"

"Don’t you think this is the part you say thank you?" she asked smugly, folding her arms.

I scoffed. "Thank you for what? Look, I’m not joining a company that monetizes heartbreak."

Her smile faded.

"So I wasted my time staying up half the night, helping you with the online screening test in June?"

"I never asked you to."

"No," she said flatly. "But I still did it."

I rubbed my forehead lightly as I exhaled.

"Tahlia is not like that. I had no idea you did all that two months ago. And a matchmaking company? Of all places? I really appreciate the effort, but..."

"Drea," she cut in gently, "you already do this. You listen. You remember details. I've watched you talk people through things when they are overwhelmed."

She smiled. "You remember when you didn’t let me ghost Jack?. You stayed on the phone with me for two hours after that awful date. This is literally YOU. I just found a place that pays you for it. The app was way too polished when I checked it out. You should have seen the branding and the interface alone. I couldn’t even afford the basic membership fee. Think of how serious the salary might be."

"Ok... Fine," I gave in, throwing up my hands. "Can we leave now?"

She shook her head. "Alone? Yes. I’m still hurt by how ungrateful you sounded."

I sighed, fully aware of how badly I had handled everything. "Alright, I’m sorry. I promise to make you a nice meal this weekend as an apology."

Tahlia arched a brow. "Not that. I'd prefer a girls’ day out when you get your first paycheck."

I looked at her, surprised. "You’re really that sure about me?" And we both burst out laughing.

* * * *

Days later, my Toyota Corolla was a mess. It always picked the worst possible day to develop a fault. Unfortunately, it chose this day, the day of my interview at Love Incorporated.

Tahlia and I sighed, our eyes meeting. Usually, we would giggle at timings like this, but this wasn't the moment for such jokes. It was only twenty minutes to the time scheduled, and Tahlia needed to make it to her shift. Earlier, the plan had been simple - drop Tahlia off before heading to Love Incorporated, relying on Google Maps to get me to it's destination.

"Ok... I know what you have in mind, but let's be optimistic. Today is declared the last for your job hunting shenanigans!" Tahlia broke the silence.

I ran my hand through my hair, completely ruining the effort I had spent trying to make it look presentable. "I don’t even know how we fix this. You should be heading to your shift, and we can’t just abandon the car here. It’s barely parked."

"Breathe, Drea. This isn’t the end of the world." Tahlia said calmly.

She reached over, smoothing the loose strands of my hair like she always do whenever I'm overwhelmed. "We’ll book a ride, and you’ll hop out here, and go ace that interview!. Don’t stress about anything else. I've got you..."

Our exchange was cut short by an impatient honk. A young man sat behind the wheel, his eyes fixed at us, his face looked annoyingly familiar.

"You know you’re blocking half the lane, right?" he said, amused. "Might want to fix that before someone tows you."

The Ads guy? He appeared almost unrecognizable with his cashmere sweater layered over a shirt.

He squinted at me like I was a puzzle piece, exclaiming upon realization "Hold on... Andrea?"

In a flash, he moved his car forward, parking in front and before he starts to head towards us, I quickly whispered to Tahlia.

"That’s him. The ad guy I mentioned. The one who told me about the app, right before the surprise email"

Tahlia’s brows shot up, but she didn’t get the chance to say anything. He was already peering through the window, close enough that I caught the scent of cedar.

"I’m technically late," he admitted, checking the time, "but if this is a quick fix, I can help. Five minutes. Give or take."

Tahlia and I shook our heads in unison. This wasn’t something five minutes would fix. My car visited mechanics more often than I visited my family house.

"Her interview," Tahlia cut in sharply. "You would end up being her colleague, you know?. I’d really appreciate it if you could give her a lift."

I didn't expect that bluff from Tahlia. I shot her a look, heat creeping up my neck as he gasped in surprise.

"You're one of the candidates Mr. Bradley shortlisted?”

“Come on, we have to go now." He maintained, pulling the car door open.

"He’s strict about punctuality and trust me, you don’t want to start off on the wrong foot." He added.

I hesitated for a second before coming down.

"Text me how it goes," I said to Tahlia, a little embarrassed.

“Just go," she urged.

I walked briskly behind him till we got to where he parked, and then he held the door open with a grin.

"Kylian, but everyone calls me K," he said. "Good to see you again."

~ ~ ~

Minutes later, we were literally jogging down the marble hallway from the parking lot. I tried to keep my jaw from dropping. Love Incorporated was far bigger and fancier than I had imagined.

The building shined under the morning sun, all glass and sharp steel edges, with a sleek façade bearing Love Incorporated™️ boldly inscribed in red.

The door automatically opens, and Kylian slowed to a brisk walk as we got to the wide reception area. From the passage, my eyes skimmed the gold accents and velvet chairs. The decor was simple. Still, it felt like walking through a luxury hotel.

“Go ahead, take a seat. Interviews will start shortly,” he said, already walking away.

I obeyed, immediately noticing the other candidates. Two young men sat at my left, both dressed like they had rehearsed their confidence in the mirror. One kept adjusting his tie like it was trying to strangle him, and the other continuously tapped his foot. The female among them stared straight ahead, her makeup perfectly sculpted.

I fixed myself on an empty seat close by, watching Kylian speak to the receptionist. Her gaze slid past him to me, widened, then snapped back to her screen as if it had personally betrayed her.

I swallowed, darting my eyes to the right hand side of the room. There, three employees sat at their neatly spaced individual workstations. Their whispers not so low that I couldn't hear.

"Who is she?"

"She came in with Kylian."

"No way."

I shut my eyes briefly, entirely unbothered by their words. ‘Lord please. This should be the last'

The sound of footsteps made me flip my eyes open and a man appeared in front of us. He was averagely built, sharp eyed and if I should guess in his thirties.

"Welcome everyone. I am Mr. Bradley and the interview will be conducted by a VIP client. Please be prepared. First impressions matter."

A VIP what? Strange... Who was this person? And why did it feel like the room had just grown ten times bigger, and I was suddenly smaller?

"Come with me," he added quickly.

One of the young men moved ahead too quickly, nearly brushing past me like he couldn’t wait to be seen first. I and the others followed with Mr. Bradley leading.

We walked towards a quieter corridor, away from the bustle of the main floor, before getting to a monochrome art display, and then a softly lit waiting nook.

A row of closed offices with matte glass doors stood just before we approached a private executive lounge. This room was more beautiful than what I had seen at the main floor - warm lighting, leather chairs, a long polished table that looked too expensive for casual opinions.

Mr Bradley stopped by the door, exchanging a brief nod with the client, before urging us in. What follows next was the door closing softly behind us.

And then I saw him.

A tall man indeed. Tall enough that the room seemed to adjust around him. His gaze moved over us, deliberate and assessing, as if already deciding who was worth his time.

Slowly but graciously, he sat, adjusting his light gray suit that probably cost more than my rent for a year. He checked his watch, silver and sharp against his cuff, raising his chin after, and that moment I notice just how striking his face was.

Our eyes almost meet, but her open admiration interrupted the moment. The female candidate didn't hide it. She inhaled deeply, her lips parting as if he'd walked out of a fantasy.

When he finally looked at us, boredom was clearly written in his eyes.

"I’m Everett Langston," he said flatly. “If you’re easily intimidated, you can leave now."

***

*Andrea*

***

“If you’re easily intimidated, you can leave now."

For some seconds, there was heavy silence. Yet, no one moved.

Everett Langston leaned back on his chair still scanning the four of us like a man weighing apples for freshness. With one ankle rested casually on his knee, his fingers drummed once against the armrest before he looked away.

How arrogant!

"Good... That saves me time. You could have your seats" he ordered.

He reached for the four cream envelopes sitting in a neat row on the polished table and slid them toward us. "One of you doesn’t belong here. Decide."

What? My brows knitted.

"Decide? Based on what?" The other male candidate whispered nervously to his neighbor.

The eyes of the lady who had been staring a little too openly at Everett sparkled with excitement as she shifted in her seat. It was as if the challenge only heightened her interest in him.

I ignored her. I wasn’t here to gawk.

"Everything is part of the interview,” Everett replied calmly. “Five minutes."

The man at my right cleared his throat. “Based on what criteria?”

He shrugged. “Any you like.”

He goes on to rotate his chair slowly, folding his arms as his eyes tracked every reaction.

"This is ridiculous," the third candidate muttered. "We don’t even know each other."

“Exactly,” Everett replied. “That’s what makes it interesting.”

They turned on each other faster than I expected.

The same man spoke first, “She came in late,” he pointed at me, nodding. “That alone should count against her."

All eyes swung to me.

I blinked, trying to keep the irritation out of my face. I wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t cared earlier when he pushed past me just to get to the front.

“Excuse me?” I shot back. “Traffic happens, and I never arranged for my car to quit on me.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you were late,” the woman said lightly, flipping her hair. “Excuses or not, I was here an hour early.”

“And I don’t see how a few minutes defines whether someone can handle clients professionally,” I countered, hoping logic still counted for something.

Everett's eyes lingered on me just long enough to make me uneasy, before returning to the others. "Confidence doesn’t mean competence. We'll see how you hold up under real pressure."

He removed one from the envelopes, tossing the others aside like they had already served their purpose.

I clenched my fists under the table, her giggle audible enough to be heard.

Lucky her! I was so happy to know she had been waiting for this moment. Hilarious.

“Next."

“Let’s make this interesting." He continues, clasping his hands together. “I want to see who can handle responsibility. Someone who can execute a task flawlessly, anticipate problems, and act without supervision. You’ll pitch me a plan to manage a high-stakes client scenario. Convince me you can handle it. Begin."

All of us exchanged awkward glances. I almost wish for a fire alarm or a sudden earthquake to save me.

Just immediately, the first male candidate launched into a rehearsed speech about questionnaires and client profiles, stumbling slightly over jargon he clearly didn’t understand. The lady babbled a little, trying to charm her way through instead of focusing on a plan.

I stayed back, observing and waiting for my turn.

Then my phone chimed.

My stomach did a flip, and the tick of the clock suddenly amplified.

I knew it was probably a message from Tahlia. Maybe I shouldn't have told her to give me an update on my car. I shut my eyes briefly in embarassment, muttering softly, "I'm sorry."

Everett’s head snapped towards me, “Well, at least your phone is punctual. Next time, keep it quiet during meetings like this.”

His tone was dry, cutting and arrogant all at once.

Heat crept up my cheeks, and I swallowed. I saw the lady's grin widen, and a pang of disgust follows. Her delight at someone else’s embarrassment was painfully obvious.

I opened my mouth to apologize properly, but Everett didn't pause. He turned his attention to the group.

"Now. Who among you can personally find me a match? I don’t mean general matchmaking. I mean… someone who can manage the entire process. Meetings, introductions, schedules —every single detail, from start to finish, until it’s done. Someone I can rely on completely. A female."

The lady raised her hand almost too quickly, a smile lighting her face as she spoke. “Absolutely! I’d love the opportunity"

"Good. Get to it." He said in response.

Her gasp of delight made my chest tighten further. I almost scoffed, too stunned at his decision. She had literally swooned over him since we walked in, and now she was rewarded with a small, deliberate gesture that confirmed she would be his Personal Strategist?

“Interview’s over,”he said, and it hit me like a wall. I hadn’t expected that.

He sat up in his chair with a casual arrogance that made my skin crawl. "I'm pleased to inform you all that we have our selections, too."

I felt frustrated. I wanted to speak, to protest, to remind him that I had arrived late for a reason beyond my control. But his presence was oppressive. Late or not, I had the skills. I had insight. I could read people, handle clients, organize meetings flawlessly. Tahlia was right when she said all that.

“Actually,” he went on, “I only need two of you."

My stomach twisted.

Just two? Out of all of us?

A familiar hush fell over the room, just like when he first introduced himself.

Everett didn’t hesitate.

“Marina Prescott” he said with a faint smirk, relishing the moment.

Her face lit up like a candle in the dark. She rose gracefully, excitement dancing in her eyes. Meanwhile, I was still flustered, my pride simmering in a way I didn’t want to admit.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, almost matter-of-factly, as though she had expected to hear those words.

I should've seen that coming.

Of course. She’s exactly the type he wants. Every glance she threw his way seemed designed to inflate his already enormous ego.

My pulse raced as he glanced down at the envelopes, then slowly lifted his eyes to scan the rest of the room.

“And…"

He hesitated now, letting the words hang in the air.

The name he mentioned flung me straight into self-doubt.

“Daniel Brooks," Everett's throaty voice haunted my thoughts.

It's been minutes he said that, but it bounced around my head like it had nowhere else to land.

I bit my lip. There was nothing to do but nod. No one argues their way out of a room like this. I kept my face neutral, pretending I didn’t care, while my brain spiraled through a dozen thoughts at once. Maybe job hunting would just have to continue. Maybe this was another polite rejection dressed up in arrogance and sharp suits.

The man who had pointed out my excesses earlier looked briefly distraught, his shoulders sagged before he quickly straightened and followed the two chosen candidates toward the exit.

I hesitated, fingers tightening around my bag strap. Somehow, I tried to maintain some semblance of dignity, but Everett’s eyes darted to me briefly before he looked away like I had already been filed under irrelevant.

Then he stood, slipping the envelopes into his inner pocket.

That should have been the end of it, but something surprising happened.

Just as the three candidates left and I reached for the door, he cleared his throat. It was subtle, barely noticeable, yet it broke the silence.

“Miss—Andrea, was it?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he pick his cellphone from the table.

I froze.

“Your résumé," he said swiftly, thrusting his hand out.

I handed it over, and he nodded once as if confirming something only he could see.

“The psychology minor." He said.

A wave of confusion flushed through me. “Yes?”

“You didn’t exaggerate it."

It wasn’t a question, so I replied. “No," still stunned.

Then he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small white slip, he scribbled for some seconds, placing it on the table instead of handing it to me.

“HR will reach out to you.” he said casually. “Hopefully, tomorrow morning"

I blinked. “I—sorry. About… what?"

“Onboarding," he answered lightly, raising one of his brows like I had said something silly.

I let out a low gasp, and before I could ask another question or demand clarity.

He quickly said, “We’re done here," already halfway toward the door. And just like that, the room emptied. I stood for a moment, staring at the card.

Candidate ID: 041

Override Clearance Granted

Proceed with Onboarding

E.L.

~ ~ ~

The hallway outside buzzed faintly with office noise. I leaned against the wall of the executive lounge, taking deep long breaths.

“What just happened?” I whispered to myself, too exhausted even when I had only spent a little over thirty minutes in there.

I felt my cheeks redden, and I was pretty sure someone was staring right through me.

I turned to the left. There he was, standing near the coffee station, arms crossed, while he watched me with mild amusement. Kylian looked like he’d been there for a while. With a smug smile, he immediately dropped his arms, making his way over.

“Hey.” he started when he finally got close. “You look like someone who just found a plot twist in their own life."

I let out a breath that was half laugh, half groan. “That’s uncomfortably accurate."

He grinned. “So?"

“So,” I said slowly, staring at his face. “I didn’t get picked. Except, I later did?”

He pouted, shaking his head. “That's not reassuring. Tell me about it."

Then, as if just remembering, he added, “The VIP — what’s his name again?"

“Everett Langston."

Kylian whistled. “Yeah. Him. He’s known for being intense.”

“That’s one word for it,” I muttered, pressing my lips together. “He basically implied I had no sense because my phone buzzed.”

Kylian chuckled. “Welcome to Love Incorporated, but you left notifications on? That's flirting with disaster...”

“I had a broken car, Kylian!"

“Sure, sure. Rookie mistake,” he teased with a grin. “Congrats anyway, I guess?”

“I don’t even know what I’m congratulating myself for.”

“He was awful.” I added.

“Oh, he’s famous for that.” Kylian sounded amused.

“He literally insulted everyone.” I snapped.

“Also famous."

“But then he—" I licked my lower lip and stopped. “Never mind. I guess I’m supposed to hope HR contacts me by tomorrow morning."

Kylian studied my face. “Mr. Langston doesn’t change his mind often."

That didn’t reassure me. I only shrugged.

“Well, HR doesn’t just ‘reach out’ for fun," he convinced further. “Trust me."

“Thanks for the ride earlier. Seriously, I mean that.”

“Anytime,” he replied, smiling again. “Just know you owe me coffee, but first, you’ve got to survive your first week."

My smile freezed as my phone starts to ring. Kylian swiftly lifted a hand in goodbye and turned to leave.

I exhaled hard, waving back as I accepted the call. While stepping into the elevator lobby, I could feel the strain in my legs.

God! I wasn’t entirely built for stress.

“Tahlia,” I said into the phone, stopping at a closed elevator.

“Okay,” she cut in without greeting, “start talking. I fixed your car, by the way. She’s alive. Barely. But alive."

“Oh my God," I exclaimed. “You’re an angel!"

“I know. Now tell me everything."

“He was unbearable." I went on, rolling my eyes.

I hit the call button, and it light up.

“Who?" Tahlia asked.

“The VIP client. Everett. Tall. Arrogant. Looks like he’s never apologized in his life.”

She chuckled. “I already hate him… well, almost. But Everett? Ugh! That name's so appealing..! Wait a minute... a VIP client? For our interview?”

I let out a dramatic sigh, shaking my head. “You're hopeless, Tahlia. Only you would find his name appealing."

“Some admin said he'd be the one, I had no idea why. Can you believe he said my phone was punctual… yeah, my phone, not me. And then he lectures me to keep it quiet during meetings, like I’m some clueless intern!"

“You’re kidding.” Tahlia burst into laughter.

“I wish. And then he picked this young woman who was throwing herself at him like it was an Olympic sport, and he was the gold medal.”

“You don't say!.”

“Her job's to personally manage his love life. Like, per-so-na-lly. Meetings, schedules, the whole thing."

Tahlia gasped. “That’s not a job, that’s a rom-com setup!”

“Right? But she volunteered like it was her destiny."

“Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I was too busy being humiliated.” I quickly said.

The elevator dinged, arriving slowly.

“And so,” I continued, “he picked a guy for client accounts, said the interview was over, and I thought that was it.”

“But it wasn’t?” Tahlia asked, as if she knew.

“Yeah... it wasn’t,” I confirmed. “HR is apparently reaching out to me."

She squealed. “Andrea! I'm so emotional, right now...”

“I don’t even know what I’m hired for!”

“Details. We’ll unpack later. I’m outside with your car. Hurry!”

“I’m coming down now.” I muttered.

The door starts sliding open.

“I hate him already. And just so you know,” I added, lowering my voice, “if I ever have to work directly with that man, I might actually—”

I stopped mid-step, phone still pressed to my ear, when my words died in my throat. His gaze lifted, slow, deliberate, before it landed on me.

Our eyes met.

It's Everett Langston standing inside. Alone. Hands in his pockets.

“What? Hello?" Tahlia said faintly through the phone. “…Andrea?”

I could feel my heart hammering, a lump formed in my throat and I swallowed.

From the look on his face, he certainly had caught the last line.

God, Andrea… what have you done now?