Chapter 4 #3
"Our original headquarters are still there," he continues.
"The first offices. The earliest project files. Employees who've been with the company for decades. If you're interested in the foundation rather than the finished product, you'll find better material there than you'll ever get sitting in this building."
I study him for a moment, weighing the offer against everything I know about companies of this size.
Most executives carefully curate what reporters are allowed to see.
Julian, on the other hand, seems determined to lead me away from the polished headquarters and toward the parts of the company that existed long before Blackwell became an international name.
"You're suggesting we continue the interviews in Boston?"
"I am."
"And…you'll be there?"
"Yes."
His answer comes without hesitation.
"I was planning to review the Boston division myself next week. Your visit would fit naturally into that schedule."
It's a perfectly reasonable explanation. In fact, it's exactly the kind of decision I'd expect from someone as methodical as Julian. The company's history belongs in Boston. Any serious profile would be incomplete without seeing it firsthand.
Still...I can't shake the feeling that there's more behind the invitation than simple logistics.
"I'd like that," I say before I have the chance to overthink the response.
For the briefest moment, something flickers across his expression. It isn't satisfaction exactly. It's quieter than that. Almost... relief. The feeling disappears so quickly I wonder if I imagined it.
"I'll have Daniel coordinate the travel arrangements with you," he says.
"Sounds good."
He walks me to the executive reception area where Daniel is already standing with his tablet, as though he'd anticipated the exact moment we'd emerge. Julian nods once toward him.
"Please coordinate Boston with Ms. Callahan."
"Of course," Daniel replies.
"I'll send over a proposed itinerary this afternoon."
"Thank you."
Julian looks back at me.
"I'll see you next week?"
"I'll be ready."
"I have no doubt."
Our eyes meet for one final moment before I step toward the elevators.
The doors slide open almost immediately, and I offer a polite nod before stepping inside.
As the elevator descends, I finally release a slow breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
The interview hadn't unfolded the way I'd expected. Neither had Julian Blackwell.
By the time I step outside the building, my phone is already vibrating in my handbag.
Maya.
I laugh softly as I answer.
"I was just about to call you."
"I've been staring at my phone for twenty minutes," Maya says without preamble.
"Don't make me wait any longer. How did it go?"
I start walking toward the corner, weaving through the lunchtime crowd gathering along the sidewalks.
"It was... different."
"Different good or different terrible?"
"Different confusing."
She laughs.
"That wasn't one of the options."
"I know."
"So?"
I glance back once at the towering glass building behind me before continuing toward the crosswalk.
"I spent the last couple of days convincing myself that he was going to manage every answer, redirect difficult questions, and give me rehearsed executive talking points."
"And?"
"He didn't."
"Not once?"
"Not once."
There's a brief silence before Maya speaks again.
"Well, that's disappointing."
"It shouldn't be."
"No, but it ruins the image I had in my head."
I smile despite myself.
"He's nothing like I expected."
Maya is quiet for just a beat too long.
"That's an interesting choice of words."
"It isn't meant to be."
"Mmm."
I know that sound.
"What?"
"You didn't tell me how the interview went."
"Yes, I did."
"No." She laughs.
"You told me how he was."
I open my mouth to argue, only to realize I don't immediately have a response.
"You're reading into it."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"So you aren't thinking about him?"
I hesitate for the smallest fraction of a second.
Maya hears it.
"Oh, Sophie..."
"Don't."
"I'm not saying anything."
"You absolutely are."
She laughs again, completely unapologetic.
"I'm just saying that I've known you for fifteen years, and I've never heard you describe an interview subject as 'different' before."
"It's called professional curiosity."
"If you say so."
"It is."
"I believe you."
The fact that she sounds thoroughly unconvinced is exactly why I decide to end the conversation before she can continue.
"I have notes to organize."
"You have excuses to organize."
"Maya—”
“—I'm hanging up."
She laughs one last time before the line goes dead.
I slip my phone back into my bag and continue walking, telling myself she's wrong.
She's my best friend. She knows me better than almost anyone.
But she's wrong. I'm thinking about the interview.
The story. The company. The opportunity to see where Blackwell Industries began.
If the thought of spending time with Julian Blackwell quietly slips into that list before I can stop it, I choose not to examine it too closely.
Not yet.