The interview: CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

Celine's POV

A cold shiver ran through my spine making me nauseous, I turned around and switched off the air conditioner on the wall behind my desk.

This office still left a stale taste in my mouth even though I had used it for a month after the death of my husband, Adam.

It had been his office while he was alive, the vast space with a well decorated living room consisting of black soft sofa's, a huge plasma TV, a library and the mahogany desk which I now sat on had all been his as well as mine for whatever belonged to him belonged to me by the virtue of our love and marriage.

The office overlooked the city on the third floor of our law firm, "ADAMS LAW HOUSE." and although I had visited it so many times while he was still alive to see him, to feed him, to make love to him, it didn't feel the same as owning it, as sitting where he had sat. Nothing felt the same without him. Not even the air in the office. Nothing.

For the sake of the firm he loved and built with his sweat I try not to think about it, about the man who had saved me from killing myself and loved me for who I was, fought for me and married me. About the man who I lived with for six years, in a happiness so profound I could have likened it to heaven in all the paradise it could give. A happiness that had been cut short a month ago in a terrible accident that has left me more dead than alive.

A knock on the door pulls me away from my drowning, self loathing thought.

I push back the file on the desk which I was staring at, not reading. The case before me was a simple one, a clear cut land issue in favor of my client who has every document in favor of him. My friend, Lara and member of the board had forced me to take the case to take my mind off his death but it isn't working.

His death had been my death and there is possibly no way I will be distracted from my own death.

"Come in." I said, with a strained voice, leaning back on my chair.

The door creaked open and a tall man in a suit jacket stopping just at his waist, baby blue shirt, and black pants worked in. His golden skin glowed in the sun seeping through from the window and even though he was far back I could tell that he was handsome, with a straight long face, curly dark hair and piercing black eyes.

I pulled down my glasses with my middle finger so it rested on the bridge of my nose. It was a habit I cultivated when I wanted to speak to an employee. It made me feel more professional. I felt like it gave me a more bossy look, a more serious look. I eyed him from head to toe and then stopped to gaze at him.

The man squirmed underneath my scrutiny making me aware that he was definitely not of a high position, most probably he was here for the interview for a personal driver for me.

"So you are?" I asked, still.

"Lucas Michael." He replied, his voice soft but manly.

"Lucas. I see." I nodded. "Are you here for the interview?"

"Yes Ma."

I eyed him again. He looked too neat and well put for the job of a driver, one would take him for a more professional job. I could already tell that there was more to him and it left a certain sour taste in my mouth that I could not decipher.