Chapter 3 Kyara
Kyara
The envelope H.R. slides across the table is fancy. Like, really fancy. I’m not sure what it’s made of—something sturdier than plain paper, but something more expensive than cardboard? Should I know what this is, just to fit in?
But anyway, what’s inside is what matters the most, and...oh?
Aside from the usual details about compensation, a rule book for employees, a separate glossy brochure of the company history, the thing that matters the most has been reduced to...four digits?
I’m supposed to work for 7003?
Someone whistles beside me, the sound making me look up, and...double oh.
It’s Cyrus, the first-placer in our group of ten because he scored the highest marks on all the tests and interviews in our application period, which were the most grueling three months of my life.
But, like, in a good way. As in, you get to learn something new every day, and anyway, I know I’m digressing.
The point is, Cyrus, who’s blond, attractive, and just so well-dressed at all times that a part of me is just dying to ask him for style advice—he and I never really had a chance to talk in the past three months, and that’s why—
“That’s rare,” Cyrus remarks.
I forget all about the oddness of him suddenly being friendly at his words. “You know what it means then?” Because I’m honestly stumped. What does 7003 have to do with my being accepted for a job?
My question makes him smile for some reason, and while I know all of the girls in our training batch think he’s cute and all—
His smile is really refreshing because it’s not the kind of smile you’d ever get from the usual sexual predators and drunks that my mom loves to date. Cyrus’s is a good, harmless smile, and so I allow myself to smile back. It just feels good to be in the company of a normal guy, you know?
“It’s a Wallace International thing,” Cyrus continues, leaning closer like he’s letting me in on something. “When you get hired, you get the room number, and then you try to find your way there without asking.”
“I see.” I don’t, really, but company things don’t always have to make sense, right? “Thanks for the tip—”
Cyrus is already shaking his head before I’m even done speaking, and I guess I’m confused again. Did I miss anything?
“It’s not a tip.”
It’s not?
“I’m afraid I don’t ever do things for free.”
That sounds fair, but before I can apologize—
“How about a date after work?”
I’m about to say no when I remember something my therapist told me.
You need to take a chance sooner or later. Just take a chance, if only to get rid of your fear of trusting men once and for all.
And so I take a deep breath, smile, and nod. “Deal.”
Cyrus suddenly clutches his chest, and I freeze. Is he about to have a heart at—
“I can’t believe I’ve scored a date with my dream girl.”
I...I honestly don’t know how to react to that so I just laugh weakly and try not to be so obvious about wanting to get away.
Something about his words doesn’t feel right to me, in more ways than one, but I just mumble something incoherent which I still hope will pass as ‘goodbye’ while managing another weak laugh before turning around and. ..
Walk, Kyara, don’t run!
My stomach starts twisting itself in knots as I hurry to the elevator, but I tell myself that I’m just being paranoid, which my therapist also warned me against. There are times when I feel like my mother’s insanely toxic taste in men has scarred me for life, but...
The world isn’t black or white, Kyara.
You can’t paint all men with the same brush.
Don’t lose hope.
I promised myself that I’d give this community-sponsored therapy a chance, so...
Deep breaths, Kyara.
I do my usual breathing exercises while I navigate my way to 7003, which—surprise, surprise—turns out to be in the 70th floor (highest floor in the building, mind you), and where all the company’s top executives work.
Unlike the other lower floors, which are basically a series of hallways of offices, the 70th has its own reception counter and lounge area, and I’m asked to wait until a brunette comes out from the leftmost hallway.
She briskly introduces herself as Lara, and as we walk down a carpeted hallway that makes me feel like I’m walking on clouds, butterflies actually start fluttering their wings inside my stomach as she tells me about her boss, who’s also to be my final boss—I mean, someone I’ll end up working for if all things go well.
He’s not an easy man to work for, but he’s also reassuringly fair. In this office, you won’t have to worry about connections or currying for favor. You’ll be judged solely on the basis of your work.
Lara suddenly stops, and I nearly lose my balance as I come to a half-stop, half-turn because I don’t want to accidentally walk past the older woman.
“May I be frank with you, Ms. Dunn?”
I nod quickly. “Yes, of course—”
“I’m the one who chose you, not Mr. Havington.”
She chose me, not him? Him, as in Mr. Havington, whose name I’m hearing for the first time...but I have no chance to process any of these things—
“And do you know why I thought you’d be a perfect fit for our office?”
Because Lara seems like she’s competing for the world’s record for dropping the highest number of verbal bombshells under sixty seconds, and—
“Because I believe you have what it takes to be honest with him at all times.”
There goes the third bomb, and all I can do is hold my breath. Please, please let that be the last one, and—
Lara’s smiling, and I...I...I think she’d earn so much more as a professional poker player because I just don’t know what to do even when she’s smiling.
Am I supposed to smile or not smile back?
Am I supposed to answer or not answer, and oh, okay, why does it feel like things are going so, so fast since Lara’s already knocking on the door and saying, “Ms. Dunn is here to see you, sir.”
“Let her in.”
The world seems to stop for one second when I hear those three words, spoken in a strong accent, in a tone that—
Whoa.
I really thought I had prepared for this day, but why does everything seem to be moving so impossibly fast?
One moment I’m still in the hallway, another moment I’m inside the office, the door’s closing behind me, and, um, okay, this is a really big office, with windows taking up an entire wall, and the carpet so much thicker than the one in the hallway, and right at the center is—
“Please take a seat, Ms. Dunn.”
Him.
I’m already rushing forward as soon as I hear my boss speak again, but the moment I look up, and see the man seated behind that huge slab of black marble that someone has somehow managed to shape into a desk—
Oh, this is so, so bad.
My feet crash to a halt.
Because my boss is tall, dark, and handsome, which makes him exactly my mother’s type.
Silky black hair, sculpted jaw and everything, olive skin that will never ever need the help of a tanning salon, and.
..oh, well, his eyes aren’t dark but they’re blue as the skies, so maybe not exactly like all the men my mom goes for.
And come to think of it, he’s also not like all the other guys I grew up fearing and avoiding since Mr. Havington, for one, has an actual job.
Well, okay, make that a billion-dollar company, but the point is.
..are those the reasons why my skin isn’t crawling the way it usually does when I’m around guys like my mother’s exes?
My knees knock against each other as I move forward to obey his command.
Blue eyes slowly skim over me, and I don’t understand why my heart has started to pound, and I actually find myself fighting against the urge to—
Nope, don’t even think about it.
This may be my first job and all, but even I know one isn’t supposed to squee about one’s boss...
“Please tell me about yourself.”
“I, um...”
What he’s asking isn’t rocket science. Like, duh, I know that, but it’s just so hard to concentrate around him for some reason, and that’s why I know—
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
I don’t think this is going to work.
“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake, Mr.—” My voice falters as I try to remember what my boss’s name is...but fail.
“Havington.”
Is there anything more embarrassingly unprofessional than having your boss know you’ve forgotten his name?
“It’s Lyrius Havington.”
And why am I even surprised at how perfectly elegant his given name is? He’s the first Lyrius I’ve ever known, and it’s very...it’s very him. Very tall, dark, and handsome-ish and—
Stop thinking inappropriate things, Kyara Dunn!
I clear my throat.
Focus, Kyara!
“I’m sorry, Mister—um, Mr. Havington.” I have to force myself to repeat his name, and it’s exactly as I feared. Even his name on my lips sounds...forbidden. Like I’m already crossing a line that an employee is never supposed to cross.
“I...I truly think there’s been a mistake.”
I focus on the inkwell on his desk like my life depends on it. Which, to be honest, it kinda does. I just have a hard time concentrating with his eyes on me—
“And why would that be?”
While my boss speaks with that equally distracting accent of his, and—argh. What did he just ask again? Something about—oh, right, he’s asking why I think this is a mistake, and of course it’s because—
“Why would that be, you ask?” I feel like shrinking into nothing as I find myself repeating what he’s just said...which I only do when I’m incapable of saying the truth, but since I also know I’m equally incapable of lying—
Think, Kyara!
“It’s because...”
What excuse can I give that’s true but also not true?
“It’s because you’re really good-looking—”
How do you do it, Kyara?
“And I’m afraid my boyfriend might be jealous about you?”
How can you be so good at making things worse for yourself?