Chapter 9
MYA
It’s my first day at W.H.M. Construction, and I’m nervous as hell.
After receiving Worth’s email, my excitement skyrocketed. I had something real to celebrate.
When Tiana and I went downstairs to share the news, my mom immediately wrapped me in a hug, while Devon clapped my shoulder with a grin. “Congrats, kiddo. They finally came to their senses.”
They did question how I managed to get an offer so late on a Sunday, but I brushed it off. Beggars can’t be choosers. A small part of me wondered if it was a scam—the email had come from a personal account, not the company’s—but I refused to let paranoia ruin the moment.
Since I had to be up early the next morning, we kept our celebration lowkey. Tiana and I went to a lounge, shared an appetizer, and laughed until my cheeks hurt. I definitely didn’t want to risk showing up hungover on my first day.
Now, standing in the lobby of Miller Towers, I’m instantly taken aback. The building is stunning. My pulse jumps with awe. Whoa.
The designer of Miller Towers, Christopher Lowe, is a genius.
We studied his work in my Architectural Theory and Design class, and his approach to clean lines, natural light, and sustainability has always been what I look up to most. The way he integrates modern function with eco-conscious choices makes every one of his projects feel alive.
To be here, in a place that carries his signature touch, is surreal.
A uniformed security guard greets me from behind the front desk, his expression professional but kind.
“Hi. It’s my first day. My name is Mya Dessen-Jones.”
The guard flips through a clipboard of papers, his brow furrowing. “Sorry, ma’am. Your name isn’t on the list of new hires.”
My stomach drops. Shoot. Maybe Mr. Miller didn’t have time to notify HR.
Or worse… maybe this was all some bizarre hoax.
I force a smile that feels shaky. “Could you maybe call HR? Just to double-check?”
He nods once. “Give me a moment.”
While he steps aside to make the call, I stand awkwardly in the middle of the lobby, clutching the strap of my bag.
Nicely dressed employees stride past me, their shoes pattering against the marble floor.
I hear another nervous voice at the second security station—a woman introducing herself as one of the new hires.
She’s greeted warmly, handed a badge, and directed towards the elevators.
Minutes crawl by before the guard returns. “Miss,” he says carefully, “HR confirmed you weren’t hired.”
Heat floods my cheeks. Well, this is awkward.
“I have an email from Mr. Miller confirming my employment,” I say, pulling out my phone and sliding it across the desk for him to see.
He leans closer, scanning the screen with a skeptical frown. “I’ll call up to his office.”
Again, I’m left standing there like some kind of lost puppy while polished employees stride past me without sparing me a glance. My palms are damp, nerves buzzing under my skin as the minutes tick by.
He returns, looking regretful. “I’m sorry, but I can’t get through. Mr. Miller’s receptionist isn’t at her desk and his assistant is busy onboarding the new hires.”
A groan builds in my throat, but I force it down, pasting on the most polite smile I can muster.
“I understand that you’re just doing your job…
” I glance at his badge. “Constantine. But I really need to get inside. I don’t want to be late on my first day.
Now, please just let me up to the fifteenth floor.
Escort me if you want, but I’m not missing this opportunity.
And I’m sure you don’t want to be the reason I get fired before I even start. ”
“I’m sorry, Miss—”
“Please, call me Mya.”
“Mya,” he corrects. “It’s protocol. I’d be risking my job.”
Before I can argue further, a tall, bulky man approaches from the elevators.
Broad-shouldered, built like he belongs in a lumberjack calendar, with neck-length ginger hair and a neatly trimmed beard to match.
He claps Constantine on the shoulder, briefly glancing my way “Hey, Stan. What’s going on? ”
Before Constantine can answer, I jump in. “Apparently, my name isn’t on the new hires list, but I was offered a position here. I’m supposed to start today.”
That gets his attention. His green eyes snap to mine. “You must be Mya.”
Relief washes over me as he extends his hand. I study him quickly—ruggedly handsome, the kind of man who looks like he could chop wood with one arm and draft a skyscraper with the other. But the attraction dies as soon as our palms touch. Not my type.
“I’m Griffin,” he says. “Worth mentioned he was expecting you this morning.”
I let out a breath. “Great. So you’ll be able to take me upstairs?”
He nods and murmurs a few words to Constantine, who finally waves me through the barrier.
The walk to the elevator is short and quiet. Once we’re inside, I notice the faintest smirk tugging at Griffin’s mouth.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice shaky despite my best effort to sound casual.
He shrugs me off with a chuckle. “Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how the boss messed up.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You will soon enough.” The elevator doors open on the fifteenth floor, and he steps out, leaving me no choice but to follow.
I’m hit with a cacophony of sound—phones ringing, conversations overlapping, the clack of keyboards filling the air. The space is buzzing with good energy, focus and chaos.
This is it. My new world. My new beginning.
Griffin gestures around as he guides me through the bustle.
“W.H.M. spans several floors, but this is where the magic happens. Over there is the design team where you’ll be stationed.
On this side, spaces for our contractors.
And at the far end—” He points towards a row of private glass-walled offices.
“The executive wing. CEO, CFO, and mine.”
“You’re an executive?” I blurt, surprised.
He crosses his arms, cocking a brow. “Is that hard to believe?”
“No, sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just thought—”
“Relax, Mya. I’m just giving you a hard time.
I know I don’t exactly look the part.” He gestures at his jeans and plain white tee, shrugging.
“But I’m usually on-site more than in the office.
Besides, Worth and Henson are like brothers to me.
They can’t say shit.” He winks, then continues towards the corner offices.
Heat creeps up my neck. Griffin seems nice and easygoing. But as we get closer to those glass doors, my nerves kick back in with force, heart hammering. Am I about to face Worth again?
The thought rattles me. I keep seeing flashes of him—how hot and cold he was in the interview, his detached intensity in the café, and how soft he was with his daughter.
I need to snap out of it. He’s my boss.
“Since your employment offer was… unconventional, I’ll take you to Worth instead of his assistant, Andrée. She’s handling the training, but he’ll probably want to talk to you first.”
I remember Andrée from the interview. She was professional, yet kind. I’d much prefer her over Worth right now.
When we round the corner, I notice the front desk is empty. Then, a door swings open. A woman slips out, smoothing her blouse and tugging at her skirt, like she’s readjusting it. My eyes flick automatically to the gold plaque on the door. Worth Miller.
I roll my eyes.
Of course he’s banging his receptionist. Why am I not surprised? The man’s reputation precedes him. A forty-something billionaire playboy still living like a twenty-something frat star.
Any fantasy I had about him, any ridiculous thoughts I let myself entertain, melt away under the ice-cold bucket of reality.
But then, I remember the man at the café. The father with his little girl. He looked… different. I guess that was just another mask.
Griffin clears his throat, jolting me back. “Mya?”
“Y-yes. Sorry.”
“You were staring.”
“What?”
“At Shaina. The receptionist.”
I plaster on a smile, though I know it looks fake. “Just getting a glimpse of the kind of colleagues I’ll be working with.”
Griffin shakes his head, as if he can read every single thought in my head. “This is going to be interesting,” he mutters under his breath.
Before I can press him on it, Shaina turns to him. “You can go in, Mr. Hayes.”
Griffin thanks her, then gestures for me to follow.
He cracks the office door open and steps aside for me. “Worth. Your new protégé is here.”
Worth glances up from his monitor. His eyes skim over me once—barely even a second—before returning to his screen.
“Take her to the boardroom,” he says flatly. “Andrée just started the introductions.”
Griffin narrows his eyes at him. “That’s not in my job description. So how ‘bout no? You do it.”
Worth finally looks up at us again, his gaze lingering this time. “Fine. You can go, Griff.”
Without hesitation, Griffin backs out, tossing me a quiet, “Good luck,” before leaving me behind.
“Ms. Jones. Take a seat.”
I glance at the chair, then back at him, every instinct in me screaming to bolt. But I want this job. I earned this job. And I will not cower in front of the big, bad CEO.
Either way, I’m not the one who emailed me on a Sunday night to offer me a job. Clearly he wants me here for a reason.
I sit, crossing my legs. My skirt shifts a little higher on my thigh, and I catch Worth’s gaze lowering to the exposed skin. Heat creeps up my chest. I quickly tug it back into place, pretending I didn’t notice.
“Thank you for coming in today. As you can imagine, the way I hired you goes against HR protocol. I would appreciate discretion on how you received the offer.”
I force a polite smile, keeping my tone neutral. “Of course, Mr. Miller.” Nothing more, nothing less. The last thing I need is anyone thinking I got here through favoritism.
One day, I’ll ask him what made him change his mind after our interview, why his sudden offer came out of nowhere. Just not yet.
He nods once, satisfied. “Good. I’ll have my receptionist take you to the training room.” Then, without another glance, he turns his attention back to his monitor—a clear dismissal.
Without another word, I rise quietly and leave his office.
The image of the man I saw at the coffee shop—the one who smiled at his daughter like she was his whole world—fades like smoke. Maybe this is the real Worth Miller: cold and uninterested.
For my own sanity, I need to stay as far away from him as possible.