Job interview

Chatter 2

Keresse

The bass still thumped in my ears as I slipped out of the VIP room, legs shaky and my tiny skirt barely back in place. Rhysand was still catching his breath on the couch, shirt half-open, looking like sin and satisfaction. I didn’t wait for the awkward “that was fun, see you never” talk. I grabbed my clutch and bolted.

Mia was waiting near the bar, nursing a drink and scrolling her phone. “There you are! Girl, your lipstick is gone and your hair looks like you just got railed. Details?”

“Later,” I muttered, pulling her toward the exit. “I need to get out of here before he comes looking.”

We walked into the cool night air. Mia flagged down a cab, holding me as we stepped into it, the city lights blurred past while I stared at my reflection in the window, tank top straps slipping off my shoulders again.

“You okay?” Mia asked, turning serious. “That was… a lot, even for a revenge fuck.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, voice hoarse. “I just needed to feel something. And holy shit, Mia, he was huge. Like, I saw it first in the wrong bathroom and my drunk brain took over.”

She burst out laughing. “Only you would accidentally find a monster cock on your worst week ever. Proud of you for taking the shot, babe.”

My phone dinged in my bag. Then dinged again. And again. I pulled it out, squinting at the bright screen as I read the message.

From: HR@CurrentCompany

Subject: Termination Notice

Effective immediately. Due to recent public conduct and media attention surrounding your personal matters, your position has been terminated. Final paycheck will be processed…

“Fuck.” The word slipped out like a punch to the gut.

“What?” Mia leaned over. I handed her the phone. Her eyes widened. “Those assholes fired you? Over that circus? That wasn't even your fault? Keresse, that job was sucking the life out of you anyway. Remember how your boss made you work weekends for his wife’s birthday party planning? Trash. This is a blessing.”

“A blessing?” I laughed bitterly, wiping at my eyes. “I have rent due in two weeks, Mia. I paid for a whole damn wedding that never happened, and now I’m unemployed with a slutty reputation trending. Perfect.”

Mia squeezed my knee. “Hey. Breathe. One dick at a time, remember? You survived your sister and that coward. You’ll survive this. Actually… wait.” She snatched her own phone and started typing furiously. “Larsen Conglomerate posted openings yesterday. Executive secretary to the top floor. The pay is insane—like stupid rich. And they’re known for not giving a shit about personal drama as long as you deliver.”

I stared at her. “Larsen? As in the Larsen brothers? The ones who own half the city?”

“Exactly. Three triplets running everything. Ruthless but fair, from what I hear. Come on, let’s apply right now before you sober up and chicken out.”

She shoved her phone at me. For the next twenty minutes in the cab, we huddled together filling out the form. Mia dictated half the answers.

“Professional summary: ‘Highly organized, discreet, and unyielding under pressure. Recent experience managing high-stakes environments.’ See? Spin it.”

I snorted. “You mean managing betrayal and public humiliation?”

“Exactly. Skills: crisis management. There. Submitted!” She high-fived me as the cab pulled up to my building. “Go sleep this off. I’ll check for responses tomorrow.”

The next day came too fast. I woke up hungover, sore in the best and worst ways, and starving. My phone had a new email.

Larsen Conglomerate – Interview Shortlist

Congratulations, Miss Voss. Your application has been fast-tracked. Interview scheduled for tomorrow, 10 AM. Top floor. Dress professionally.

I stared at it, heart hammering. “Mia! They shortlisted me in one day!”

She showed up an hour later with two coffees and a garment bag. “Told you. Now sit. We’re turning you into a boss bitch.”

Mia attacked my hair with a straightener while I sipped coffee. “So… tell me more about club guy. Was he any good?”

“Too good,” I admitted, cheeks heating. “I dropped to my knees like it was nothing. Sucked him so deep I gagged, and he still bent me over and fucked me in one thrust. I came so hard I saw stars. Then I ran.”

Mia whistled. “Legend. Maybe you’ll meet someone at the new job who makes you forget both the ex and the mystery dick.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

She stepped back, admiring her work. My hair fell in sleek waves. Makeup was flawless—smoky eyes, bold lip, the kind that says “I’m hurt but unbreakable.” She handed me a crisp white blouse and a tight black pencil skirt that hugged every curve.

“These are yours now. Shoes too.” She passed over nude heels. “Walk in there like you own the place. No one needs to know you spent two days crying in the dark or that you got railed in a club bathroom-adjacent hookup.”

I hugged her tight. “What would I do without you?”

“Die tragically hot and unemployed. Now go get that bag, babe.”

The next morning I stood in front of Larsen Tower, skirt smoothed, heels clicking with more confidence than I felt. The lobby screamed money—marble, glass, and quiet power. Security checked me in and sent me straight to the private elevator.

It opened into a sun-drenched penthouse office. Three men waited.

My stomach dropped.

The one leaning against the desk with that familiar smirk was Rhysand. Same dark hair, same intense eyes that had watched me unzip my top last night. He recognized me instantly—his gaze dragged down my pencil skirt and back up, slow and heated.

Next to him stood a sharper version in a full black suit, arms crossed. “Keresse Voss. Kairos Larsen.” His voice was cold steel. “Interesting résumé.”

The third, with a white coat draped over his chair, offered a small, knowing smile. “Lucian Larsen. You look… recovered.”

Rhysand’s smirk deepened. “Small world, sweetheart.”

I froze, pulse roaring in my ears. The man I’d begged to fuck in a VIP room—the one whose cock I’d worshipped on my knees—was one of the Larsen triplets. My potential bosses.

And all three of them were staring at me like I already belonged to them.