Valeria pov
The office didn't just smell like success, it smelled like expensive cologne and the kind of filtered air used for professional executions.
A high-ranking executive, a man in his fifties came sprinting out of the office, shredding his paperwork with trembling hands, muttering silent curses under his breath at the CEO.
"If I wanted incompetent work, I'd hire a hobo! Don't ever come back here with such rubbish!"
The deep voice rang out from inside, carrying the weight of a man who hadn't felt an emotion since the late nineties.
Or Eighties, who knows the real age of these CEO's
I sat there, slowly chewing on a dry protein bar and sipping a lukewarm cappuccino that tasted like cardboard.
I looked around at the other applicants. They were shaking . One girl was hyperventilating into her Chanel bag. Another was frantically reapplying her red lipstick, her hand trembling so much she looked like a clown in training.
She was hoping to charm the CEO. Poor girl! My research told me this man didn't fancy blondes, his history of exes were all brunettes including the gay man he was rumored to have been with. It was the only reason I'd dyed my hair midnight black the night before.
It wasn't my business what they did. I just needed the paycheck. My bank account currently sat at a pathetic $2.24, and my medical school tuition deadline was in forty-eight hours.
Besides, I've seen the worst of humanity. A mean boss is nothing compared to walking in on your fiancé and best friend turning your own white sheets into a crime scene because I wasn't home enough. Please.
Men are predictable, medicine is a challenge.
The fool had the nerve to blame me for his cheating, claiming I was always studying and was basic in bed. Like, bro. If you wanted a gymnast, you should have gone to the Olympics. Moreover, he was small in size, who needs who.
Another lady came rushing out, sobbing about how he'd killed her confidence.
"Valeria Onyx. You're next," the intercom barked.
I stood up, smoothed my tacky, thrifted blazer, and walked in.
The office had just a massive desk, two uncomfortable chairs designed to make guests feel inferior, and the Dark Lord himself — Alaric Von.
He was in a sharp, three-piece suit, the tie knotted so tight it looked like it was holding his head on.
I didn't even reach the chair before he spoke.
"You have thirty seconds to tell me why I should hire a med school dropout."
I didn't flinch. I just stared at his face, my internal diagnostic monitor ticking over.
"First, you seriously need to calm down because your left eyelid is twitching and your jaw is so tight you're going to crack a molar. But since I need the money, I'll settle for being the only person in this building with the guts to tell you that."
I sat down without being asked. I crossed my legs and watched the fire start in his eyes.
He stood up and walked around the desk, his presence expanding until the room felt small. Before I could blink, his hand was around my throat—not enough to stop my breath, but enough to force me to stand.
"What makes you think you have the right to talk to me like that?"
His voice was literal thunder. My heart rate spiked instantly.
120bpm. My pupils dilated. Normally, this was the flight or fight response, but my body was was confusing the adrenaline for desire even though i have never tried bdsm before. I also couldn't help but notice how large his hands were.
"I think... you should register for an anger management class," I managed to choke out.
I thought my mouth was going to be the death of me, but the shock on his face was worth it. He released me slowly, his eyes darkening as he sat on the edge of his desk, staring at me.
"You look vaguely familiar," he muttered, his gaze searching mine. "Which family are you from?"
"You go from strangling me to interviewing me? Doesn't that say a lot about your sexual life?" I asked, massaging my neck.
His eyes turned pitch black. He made a move toward me again, and I stood my ground. No wonder they called him the Dark Lord.
"Your eyes are about to pop out of their sockets," I added, leaning forward. "Are you always this easily rage-baited? It's bad for your blood pressure."
The room went silent. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke.
"If you're to work here, you start immediately. The empty office out there is yours."
I blinked. I sincerely hadn't expected to get the job after my well mannered behaviour.
"Alright, Boss," I said, bouncing out before he could change his mind.
Outside, the army of blondes was waiting for my tears. I stood in the middle of the lobby, a big, proud smirk on my face.
"Listen here, blond ladies and gentlemen. The position is filled. I'd suggest you button up your shirts, wipe off that lip gloss, and redye your hair too. You're dismissed."
"He picked her?"
"She looks mid. Her clothes are tacky."
"I have more curves and boobs than her!"
I didn't care. I cat-walked into my new office. I found a resignation letter from the previous secretary on the desk - something about mental health and toxic environments. I crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into the bin.
I've survived a burning house, literally. I can survive a man in a suit.
An hour later, the intercom buzzed.
"In here. Now."
On his desk was a mountain of disorganized files and a broken merger plan that looked like it had been through it in life.
"Fix this. Have it on my desk before 8:00 AM tomorrow morning, or don't bother coming back."
I looked at the mess. It was a week's worth of work. He was testing me.
"I hope the payment is worth this slavery," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "And I require a massive bonus for the overtime."
He didn't even look up. He was back to being a machine.
"Try not to have a stroke while I'm working, Boss. It would be a shame to lose my only source of income before the first paycheck."
"Congratulations, Valeria," I muttered to myself as I sat at my new desk. "You just got hired by a psychopath."
I checked the wall clock. 6:52 PM.
"Before 8:00 AM..." I repeated, opening the first folder. "So basically... don't sleep."
I grabbed my third cappuccino of the day. This wasn't just a job. It was the first step into the lion's den.
And I am going to be Samson or Samsonress - well the guy in the bible that killed lion. Wait it was a lion, right?