3.

Alex

T here's no way in hell I'm going to fit in at Shadowvale Industries. The building looms in front of me and towers up into the skies of Ruby City. Ryan Shadow, CEO, is sitting at the very top of this building, and he's waiting for me.

Why?

Well, there are a lot of reasons why, but it comes down to the fact that I've run out of money, and I've run out of hope. My parents are dead, my roommate probably wishes I was dead, and sometimes, I feel like I'm dead.

So, I'm here.

There's a security guard standing by the front entrance of the building who notices me standing here like a total weirdo. I give him an awkward wave, but he doesn't wave back. He also doesn't smile. The dude is big – at least 6'5" – and probably ex-military in some capacity. There's a rumor that the people at Shadowvale all have shady histories, and this guy definitely fits the profile.

He's staring at me like he's waiting for me to leave. Considering I just walked three blocks from the bus stop, there's no chance in hell I'm leaving without actually getting this interview. I'm not scared of someone who thinks they're intimidating. Most of the time, the people who think they're the scariest are the softest, anyway.

"Buck up," I whisper to myself. That's what my dad used to say to me before he passed away. Even when he was lying in the coldest, most clinical-looking room I'd ever been in, he smiled at me and told me to buck up. "Everything's going to be okay," he promised, but it's not okay. Dad had so many surgeries and so many health problems, but it was a random car accident that claimed his life. I still remember the hospital visits, and I remember the stories he told me when I'd sit with him.

Now he's dead, Aaron is gone, and I'm here.

None of this is okay.

Slowly, I make my way to the double doors at the front of the building. They're glass and perfectly clear. Someone definitely polishes these every day. The absence of fingerprints speaks wonders. No little kids have been pressing their noses against this glass. That's for damn sure.

"I have a meeting with Ryan," I tell the guard. He cocks his head and jerks it toward the door, but I can't make myself move. Suddenly, my feet feel like they're glued to the floor. I start to shake, and I realize that I can't do this. I'm panicking, and what comes after a panic attack? An asthma attack.

Fishing my inhaler out of my tiny black purse, I bring it to my lips and puff once. I count to ten and then take a second puff. My pulmonologist wants me to wait three minutes between puffs and to use an aero chamber, but I'm not doing either of those things.

The guard is still watching me. He no longer looks annoyed but concerned. He clears his throat.

"Are you okay, miss?"

"I'm fine."

"A bit of advice, if you like?"

I nod.

"Call him Mr. Shadowvale. Never Ryan. Don't question him and you'll be fine."

Interesting. I stare at the guard for a moment and nod. I can handle that. Mr. Shadowvale. The title feels stuffy, but I can suck up my pride for money. People have done far worse for money. This isn't my dream job, I remind myself. It's just something I'm doing to get cash to find Aaron. Plus, I can't keep looking for my brother if I'm behind on rent. Beatrice could kick me out at any moment, and then I'd be beyond screwed.

"You're going to be okay," the guard repeats.

"Can I ask you something?"

The guard nods. He turns, keeping his face straight ahead at the street. He watches, as though another person is going to show up to give him half as much trouble as I am. I wonder if this is for the cameras. Maybe he doesn't want people to know we're having an awkwardly long conversation instead of him booting me away like he probably should.

"Is he as big of an asshole as everyone says?"

He laughs.

"More."

Awesome.

THE RECEPTIONIST IN the front lobby is tall, thin, and beautiful. She has long blonde hair that lays just over her breasts. She's wearing a white blouse that shows just a hint of cleavage, but not too much. Something tells me that everything about her appearance is carefully curated. She knows that she's dressed to kill. She's done this on purpose.

I'll never be as pretty as girls like her.

She glances up when I approach, but she doesn't paste on a smile or pretend to be interested in me. I know exactly why, too. A girl like her knows that I'm wearing a blazer I got at the thrift shop, a red blouse that's slightly too small, and a black skirt that I've had in the back of my closet since high school. Nothing about me says "fashionable" or "put-together." In fact, everything about me screams that I'm a broke-ass bitch who is here begging for a favor.

This assessment would be completely true.

Still, she's the first stop in getting upstairs to Mr. Shadowvale. I have to make a good impression with her if I want to be able to actually get to my interview. Even though I have an appointment, something tells me that if I mess this up, I'm going to be right back where I was this morning: trapped in an apartment with a roommate who is counting down the minutes until I leave and she can bring in someone who can actually afford to pay rent, begging for a job anywhere that looks like they might take me, and wallowing in self-pity because I took out student loans with the hope that they would land me a better-paying job.

Newsflash: student loans aren't a promise to get you a better job. Some places literally don't care about grad school.

Ignoring the fact that I gained fifteen pounds my last year of graduate school and pretending that I don't feel embarrassed over my slightly frizzy hair, I paste on a smile as I reach the reception desk.

"Good morning," I say brightly. "My name is Alexandra Sparrow. I have an appointment with Ry-um, Mr. Shadowvale."

She looks at me closely. Her eyes narrow as she tracks my hair, looks at my blazer, and then actually stands up so she can see the rest of me over the desk.

Shit.

She's going to kick me out because I'm not pretty enough and not good-looking enough. I've completely blown this interview, and I haven't even had the chance to get it started yet.

"Why are you meeting with him?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is this a social visit or an interview?"

"I...um...an interview?" I'm not sure why I phrase this like a question, but my voice seems to suddenly get all high-pitched and annoying, and the woman nods.

"Come with me."

She slips out from behind the desk and walks briskly to the women's restroom, which is at the back of the lobby. I try not to think too hard about this and follow her. Probably, I should be rushing for the elevators and trying to get up to my meeting, but I go with her.

The bathroom isn't what I would consider a normal restroom. There's an entire sitting area with mirrors and little stools where you can sit. While the countertops are completely spotless and free from anything at all, there are several drawers. She goes to one and opens it.

"Come here."

I follow her.

She pulls out a lint roller and gestures for me to hold out my arms. To my shock, she starts rubbing it up and down my arms.

"Mr. Shadowvale is a huge dick," she explains. "And if you go to an interview with lint on your blazer, he's not even going to give you a chance."

She's helping me. She's not a bitch at all. She's trying to help me.

I stand perfectly still as the woman expertly takes care of me. She uses several sheets of sticky paper on the lint roller before placing it back in the drawer. Then she looks at me carefully once more. When she shakes her head, I feel my heart fall.

This really isn't going to work out.

Then she starts unbuttoning her blouse.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Take your shirt off."

"Excuse me?"

"Shirt," she says. "Your shirt is too big. Let's trade. You can give me mine back later, but you're going to need a shirt that fits."

"I think...you're smaller than me," I tell her nervously.

She laughs. "This is a stretchy top. It'll make your tits look great. Come on." A second later, she's standing in front of me in her bra, and for some unknown reason – desperation, perhaps – I find myself trading blouses with her and then slipping back into my blazer.

She looks me up and down, adjusts my blazer, and then nods.

"Much better."

"Why are you helping me?" I ask.

She smiles. "I was new once, too, you know. Someone was kind enough to help me. I'm always happy to return the favor."

"What's your name?"

"Dolly."

"Thank you, Dolly," I whisper, holding out my hand. For a second, I think she's going to hug me, but I realize that she doesn't want to wrinkle my clothes.

"It was nothing. Now let's get you upstairs."

She hurries me out of the bathroom and over to the elevator.

"You're going to be four minutes late to your meeting," she says. "Explain to him that Dolly was on a call and you had to wait for me to finish."

"Won't that get you in trouble?"

"It's fine."

"I don't want to do anything that's going to jeopardize your job," I say slowly.

Dolly just shakes her head. She ushers me into the elevator where there's a woman standing in the corner. She's wearing a suit – or maybe even a tuxedo – and smiling brightly.

"Top level," Dolly says. The woman nods and presses a button, and then the doors close and I'm off.

"Fancy," I whisper, and the lady chuckles.

"First time in the building?"

"Yes."

"It can be a bit overwhelming."

"Do you really have to press the buttons for everyone all day?"

"Absolutely."

"Are the rich and famous so lazy they can't do it themselves?" I ask.

"Partially," she says, but then she shifts her suit jacket slightly so I can see that she's carrying a gun, and I realize she's another layer of security. This guy really is serious about who comes into his building, huh?

"Oh, kiddo." She laughs, and I realize that I don't know how I feel about being called "kiddo."

"I'm 28," I inform her.

"You're a kid to me."

"How old are you?" I don't know why I'm not holding back today. This is honestly very unlike me.

"Older than 28."

"You worked here long?"

"Long enough."

I can tell we're almost at the top of the building. We're almost at the place where I'm going to meet this guy. I suddenly feel anxious, like I might throw up. The guard seems to notice this.

"You good?"

"No."

"Don't puke in here."

"I won't."

"You look like you're going to."

"I'm good."

She presses a button and the elevator stops moving.

"Are we there?"

"No. I'm stopping us so you can get it together for a minute."

"Thanks."

"Shadowvale isn't going to be happy if you show up reeking of vomit. Why are you meeting with him anyway?"

Somehow, I don't think she's supposed to be asking me this, but I don't mind.

"I need a job."

"Ah."

"Yeah." Embarrassing. Frustrating. Annoying, even. Yeah, I need a damn job.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why him?"

"No other options."

"Fast food?"

"Not enough money."

"Got you."

I feel my stomach start to right itself. I start to calm down, and I look back up at the woman in the elevator who took the time to help me calm down.

"What's your name?"

"Patricia."

"I'm Alex."

"Pleasure to meet you."

"Thanks for helping me."

"Didn't do a damn thing, kid."

She presses another button. I right myself, standing up straight, and I turn to stare at the doors.

"When you get in there, be tough," she tells me. "He tries to intimidate people. If you want to work here for real, don't back down. You got me?"

"I got you," I tell her. "Thanks for the tip."

She nods as the doors open and I step out. I fight the urge to look back. I don't want to look weak or nervous. Uncomfortable. When I see Ryan Shadowvale for the first time, I want him to know that I'm a lady who means business. I'm serious. He doesn't need to know that I'm broke as hell or that I'm desperate. I don't think my roomie would have sold me out like that, anyway. She probably asked him for a favor. That's all. Besides, all he needs to know is that I'm a good worker.

That's it.

I'm prompt, I'm respectful, and I'm good at just about anything. Even if I'm not great, I'm proficient. Besides, I have a damn master's degree. That has to count for something, even here. I get that this is a lowly receptionist job, but it's something. Once I get my first paycheck, I can get Beatrice the money I owe her.

"You're going to be fine." I say this out loud, awkwardly, but quietly. Then I walk forward. I'm heading toward more than a paycheck. I'm heading toward my whole future. Nothing is holding me back here. It's just me versus the world.

I focus on putting one step in front of the other: a skill my dad taught me. I used to freak out and get panic attacks that would morph into asthma attacks, so he used to come up with all of these different ways to help me stay calm. Focusing was a key objective for both of us.

This floor is beautiful. Pristine. I don't know what the floors are made of, but they're black and shiny. Marble, maybe? Would a building this high have marble floors? I can't really tell. There are a couple of plants by the windows, a few chairs that look too nice to sit in, and a receptionist sitting at a desk.

A man.

He stares at me as I approach.

Somehow, I get the feeling that nobody comes up here unless they have a scheduled meeting, and nobody gets past this guy. He doesn't stand or smile. He just looks at me. I realize that he really is some sort of guard dog. There's nothing in this lobby that makes the place seem comfortable - no water, no snacks, no signs of any sort. There's nothing that says, "RESTROOM THIS WAY." It's just him and the few chairs.

"Hello," I say.

He presses his lips tightly together. Okay, so saying hello isn't the vibe here. Noted.

The man has the most perfect eyebrows I've ever seen in my life. They're dark and beautiful, but not too busy. He's got short brown hair and matching eyes. His jawline is sharp and pointy. Seriously, if Shadowvale is half as hot as this guy, I'm in trouble. My pussy clenches. How long has it been?

Too long.

He waits, as though he wants me to tell him why I'm here. Suddenly, I feel like I'm wasting this dude's time, which I'm not. I was invited.

"I have an appointment with Ryan."

"Who?"

Shit.

I've said the wrong thing. Of course. Hopefully I didn't completely fail the first of what will undoubtedly be a series of tricky tests. They're all going to be designed to make sure I do everything I'm supposed to do, of course.

I don't know everything, but I get that respect is important to people like this. It's important everywhere, but the wealthy citizens of Siren City are on an entirely different level. I get that. If I want a real decent chance at getting this job, I need to at least pretend to be polite.

"Mr. Shadowvale." I stare, meeting the dude's eyes. I might have made a very basic mistake, but the least I can do is act like I'm confident enough to be here. I deserve to be here, I remind myself. Grad school sucked. I've earned this interview.

"What time is your appointment?"

"Nine."

"It's 9:02." The man frowns. I've offended him.

"I'm sorry. The elevator ride took a bit longer than anticipated."

Yeah, I'm not leaving. If he's trying to scare me off or suggesting that I've somehow missed my appointment - which I haven't - that really isn't going to work. I grew up with my mom's boyfriends. I grew up with literal grown men who hated me when I was a kid. Those assholes scared me. This guy is an equal. I'm not afraid. There's no power exchange here.

"You're late," he continues. Is he surprised I'm not offering to leave or reschedule? Two minutes is nothing.

"As we've established, I arrived on time and came up in the elevator. Is Mr. Shadowvale ready to meet?"

"He appreciates promptness."

"And I appreciate conversations that actually have a fucking point."

For just a moment, I think I've gone too far. This guy is going to boot me out. I'm not going to get the meeting and I'm going to have to go starve to death. That's it, right? That's what's going to happen.

Only, he doesn't kick me out. Instead, a slow smile creeps up his face.

"Okay," he nods. "Have a seat."

Was that some sort of screening test? I don't know. I passed, I guess. I should feel happy about this, but I just feel extra nauseous and uncomfortably nervous. Terrible, I know.

I turn and walk to the chairs while the man lifts up his desk phone and makes a call. There are three chairs here. Two are by the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the wall with the elevator. They've got these tall backs that make you sit straight up, like a throne. The third chair is in the center of the lobby area and it's more of a stool. In fact, I'm quite sure it's a stool.

I don't have a seat.

Instead, I stand at the window and pretend I'm interested in staring out of it. I imagine that I look professional and very businesslike. If the reception guy is looking at me, I definitely look pensive and a bit particular. I don't look stupid or lame. Nope. Not at all.

"Alexandra? Mr. Shadowvale will see you now."

I turn and the receptionist is standing. He's so much taller than I thought he was.

"Shit," I blurt out before I can stop myself. Then I cover my mouth with my hand. He just smiles.

"I get that a lot."

"How tall are you?"

"Almost seven feet."

"You're a monster."

"A bit too skinny to be a monster." He smiles, and I realize I've somehow found an unlikely friend. He gestures for me to come with him, and we walk side by side to a hallway located beside the lobby and just past the reception desk. The weird floor continues. My shoes made loud noises as we walk, but the man's are silent.

"What's your name?"

"Damien."

"Have you worked here long?"

"Yes."

"How'd you get your shoes to be so quiet?"

He laughs but doesn't tell me. Before I know it, we've reached a large door. There are no signs here indicating that it's Ryan's office, but something tells me that it is.

"This is my destination, huh?"

Damien nods.

"Any tips?"

He smirks.

"Just be yourself."

Then Damien's gone, and I'm alone.

For a long moment, I just stand there. It's not too late to bail, I tell myself. I can bail. I can totally bail. It won't be a big deal at all, right? I'll just turn and leave. I can say I forgot something in my car. Then I can run away and never come back.

Only, I still won't have a job.

I still won't have money.

Nope.

This is it, and I'm going to do a great job.

I push the door open, and I walk inside.