Bloodline of Mayan Gods; Betrothed in Shadows Bound by Blood

Bianca

New York smelled like ambition and overpriced coffee.

The cab ride had been quiet, but inside, my thoughts were loud. Today wasn’t just another job interview—it was the interview. Andrews Tech wasn’t just any tech company. It was the empire. Sleek, powerful, untouchable. And if I got this job… everything could change.

I adjusted the collar of my blouse and stepped out onto the pavement in front of the building. My heels clicked against the concrete as I looked up. Thirty-five floors of glass, steel, and intimidation.

I took a breath. You’ve got this.

Inside, the lobby was marble and chrome, minimal but screaming money. Everyone moved with purpose—well-dressed, phone-in-hand, no time to waste.

The receptionist gave me a quick glance before nodding. “Thirty-fifth floor. They’re expecting you.”

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in alone. As I ascended, my reflection stared back at me in the mirrored walls—polished makeup, soft waves in my hair, and an expression I’d perfected: calm, cool, collected.

When the doors opened, a sharp-looking woman with a clipboard was waiting. “Bianca West?”

“Yes.”

“This way.”

She led me down a glass corridor and into a large conference room with a sweeping view of Manhattan. The city looked like something out of a dream—buzzing, brilliant, alive.

Three executives sat behind a long table. They smiled, professional but distant, and motioned for me to sit.

The questions came quickly—tell us about your background, your experience, your goals. I answered smoothly. I was ready for this.

Until the door opened.

“Is this the interview for my new secretary?”

The voice was deep and smooth, with a cool edge that made my skin tighten.

Everyone turned.

So did I.

Dean Andrews.

He didn’t need an introduction. I’d seen his face on magazine covers, in business articles, and once, on a massive billboard in Times Square. But seeing him in person was… different.

Tall. Sharp suit. Dark hair. Cold, calculating eyes that landed on me like a touch I hadn’t asked for—but didn’t mind.

One of the execs stood fast. “Mr. Andrews—we weren’t aware—”

“I know.” He stepped into the room, unhurried. “I changed my mind.”

He walked with the kind of confidence that came naturally to men who owned entire buildings. He didn’t look at anyone else—just me.

“You can leave,” he said to the room.

There was a pause.

“Sir, we’re in the middle of—”

“I said leave.”

Silence. A moment later, they all gathered their papers and filed out, heads down, not daring to question him again.

The door shut.

It was just the two of us now.

Dean moved to the table but didn’t sit. He leaned back against it, arms crossed, head tilted slightly as he studied me.

“Bianca West,” he said. “NYU grad. Degree in tech strategy and data systems. You interned at Ridgeway Analytics. Then a short-term position at FenTech. Impressive.”

“I didn’t realize I’d be interviewed by the CEO himself,” I replied evenly.

“You weren’t supposed to be.” His lips curved—barely. “But I like to be hands-on with certain hires.”

My gaze didn’t falter. “I hope I haven’t disappointed you so far.”

“No. Not yet.”

He moved around the table and stood behind me. Not touching, but close. Too close. I could feel the heat of him through the air.

“I need someone who can keep up,” he said, voice low. “My last secretary couldn’t. She cried during a board meeting.”

“She probably wasn’t used to the pressure.”

“And you are?”

I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. “Try me.”

Dean held my stare. I didn’t look away.

Finally, he walked toward the door, adjusting the cuffs of his black shirt. “You’re hired.”

I raised an eyebrow. “No second interview? No HR paperwork?”

“I don’t waste time.” He opened the door, then paused.

“Oh, and Bianca…” His voice dropped half an octave. “Be in my office at eight tomorrow morning. Sharp. I like things… punctual.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And just like that, I had the job.

The crazy thing? I wasn’t even surprised.

Something about the way he’d looked at me—the way he’d tested me—I knew I passed.

But something in his eyes warned me too. Dean Andrews wasn’t a man who played fair.

And this job?

It was going to be anything but ordinary.