Chapter Five: Let the Chase Begin

It's been two days,

Two restless days since the incident, and she could still taste her embarrassment; It lingered in her throat, bitter and impossible to swallow, as if she had bitten down on her own shame.

For a second there, the bathroom. The steam. The shock. The memory of George Ashford, bare-backed and wet and impossibly unguarded, flashed so sharply through her mind that she nearly forgot where she was.

“Miss Yennifer. How’s the interview coming along?” Her boss's question pulled her back to the present as the room fell silent. 

She was currently in one of the department's weekly briefings and had never been one for attention. Tightly, she clutched her notes in one hand as she felt every pair of eyes swing toward her at once. Heat rushed up her neck and into her face; she could almost hear the rush of blood in her ears. Across the table, Annabelle wore a gloating look, as if she knew Yennifer had failed.

The interview. The one she had been dodging. The one that could change her career or drop her straight into the mess she was afraid to name.

Her hands curled in her lap. She pictured the alternatives with brutal clarity: walk away and watch the offer vanish, or interview him and risk looking foolish in front of people who already seemed ready to watch her fail.

As her silence stretched, her boss, still looking at her, raised an eyebrow to ask, somewhat, “Hmm?” 

Yennifer reminded herself that this was the kind of opportunity people spent years chasing, the kind that could change her career if she played it right. If she lost here, she would not just be walking out of just any interview; no, she would be walking out jobless, with nothing but the humiliating possibility of spending her next weeks waiting tables because she had been too scared.

Somewhere between the panic and the self-pity, she realized she had already surrendered to the situation without meaning to. The words left her mouth before she could stop them, smooth and automatic, like her survival instinct had taken over.

“Yes, sir,” she said, glancing at her boss. “The interview is coming along just fine.”

A beat passed before she continued, “I have had an interaction with Mr. George; her brain chose that moment to flash their encounter. Clearing her throat as if to dispel the thought from her head, she continued, “Though yet to speak at length, I'm getting there, sir”

The boss only nodded with a firm “Good Job, no slacking, Miss Yennifer”, and went on to the next thing on his itinerary 

After the meeting, she knew she had barely twenty-seven days to get this interview, so she had to do this. Taking a half day, she decided to hunt down Mr. George. An hour later, a few calls and favors- well, threats, but who's asking- she got his schedule, his office address, and she found out he was currently at his office, bingo!

Going to the restroom, she nervously stared at her reflection in the mirror. “I am doing this”, she thought, then reached for her makeup and fixed what little needed fixing, as if the makeup could fix her unsteady nerves. 

For today, she had chosen a black bodycon capri, which showed off her wide hips and thin waist. Chloe always teased that she's shaped like an African woman, and this caused her to smile; styling it with a polka dot high-collared blouse and red pointy Louboutins, an outfit polished enough to say competent, but demure

Her hair was gathered into a bun, though a few loose strands softened the edges of her face and a red handbag packed with everything she might need.

Muttering some words of affirmation to cast off the shame and fear that was building up, she was ready to get this interview started. Stepping out of Languard Media House, she drew in a breath and hailed a cab to Ashford's Holdings.

___

Arriving at The Ashford Holdings headquarters, she could only stare, unable to believe the sheer size and beauty; the pictures did no justice to it. With over seventy floors, and recalling that the company is into a lot- hotels, real estate, Tech, name it. How does he cope? And the building is as intimidating as its owner.

Stepping through the sliding doors of TAH was like stepping into a different world. But her staring was cut short by a gorgeous blonde receptionist “Hello, ma’am. Welcome to TAH. How may we help you?” the receptionist said with a bright, practiced smile.

Yennifer drew in a breath to answer. “I…” but the words died on her tongue.

The lobby, which had been alive a moment ago, seemed to hush all at once. Conversation thinned into silence, broken only by a few quick greetings drifting through the air. “Good day, sir.” “Good day, Mr. Ashford.”

Yennifer’s stomach tightened. She froze; the fear and shame she thought she left at the office miraculously teleported, hovering over her. Just as she slowly turned, she saw him stepping intimidatingly into his building, no smile on his face, but throwing a nod as a reply to the greetings as he continued his phone call.

There he was, George Ashford

He was no longer on the ice. Without the helmet and pads, he looked sharper somehow. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a charcoal grey suit, tailored just for him, and his hair damp at the temple, as if he had only just stepped out of the shower.

Yennifer’s entire body went rigid at the word “shower”. Her heart raced at a frantic one hundred and forty beats per minute. ‘Shit,’ she whispered, and this caught George’s attention just as he was walking toward the elevator.

George, still speaking into his phone with that unreadable expression of his, seemed to sense her gaze. His head turned slightly, and then his eyes found hers across the corridor

“You're not just the captain of a hockey team, George. You're the future chairman of Ashford Holdings. You need a woman, and your Grandma has been on my neck,” the person on the other end of the phone said, but got silence in return 

“Georgie” George, who was distracted, didn't hear his name

On the other hand, Yennifer stopped breathing; her palms already sweating and shaking, she tightly held the strap of her bag till her fingers felt numb, fear clearly written on her face, but tried to look confident 

For one horrible second, nothing moved. The noise around them seemed to flatten. The crowd. The chatter. It all dropped away until there was only that look.

His eyes flicked over her face once, slow and precise, like he was confirming exactly who she was. He paused just enough to let the moment sink in, but it was long enough for her humiliation to bloom, long enough for her to wonder whether he recognized her and, worse, if he'd do something crazy to her in front of everyone.

“George!!” This time he heard it, still holding her gaze, like daring her to move. He responded to the person on the phone, “I've heard you, Dad, but I have to go now. Bye”

Ending the call without looking at his phone, he stared at her for some seconds with a bored look before looking away. She couldn't tell if he recognized her but could only hope he didn't.

George strode ahead and stepped into the elevator. Just before the doors closed, he looked back at her one last time, this time, recognition flickering across his face. But Yennifer, still reeling from the shock, missed it entirely.

Then George whispered to himself, ‘Let the chase begin.’

Mark, who had been with him, felt a chill of unease for Miss Yennifer He knew that tone too well and knew, too, that Miss Yennifer was already in trouble.