Chapter 3

“So, how are you going to contribute to the team?” 

Across the table, two people stared at me. Mrs. Poppins, with her blonde bob and thick red glasses, is in charge of asking questions. She had the presence of judging you from how you breathed and sat. Beside her is an intern, a young man, probably a senior college student, with fierce determination in his eyes, who aggressively writes down notes as if his entire future depends on them.

It’s been about twenty minutes since the interview started, though it felt longer. The necktie around my throat grew tighter with each passing second, and the polished black shoes squeezed my toes like they were being punished.

I hate the feeling of it. This feels like torture compared to my loose shirt and leather jackets that allow me to move freely and fight faster. Not to mention, it doesn’t cling tight to my skin and make me sweat like I’m in an incubator.

“Simple. I eliminate problems.” I shrugged, crossing one leg over the other like I owned the place. 

The kid stopped. 

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Poppins cleared her throat. 

“Yeah, I take care of problem makers. Whenever there’s a bug on the system, code that slows it down, and potential confidential information leaks, I put them down, as if they never existed in the first place.” I said with complete confidence. 

Mrs. Poppins nodded. “Share with us your three greatest strengths.”

“First, I’m fast at pulling a trigger. Second, I keep my eyes on the target. Lastly, I don’t miss twice.” I smirked and even mimicked a gun using my hand.

I forced myself to maintain a straight face when the intern and I locked eyes. He was horrified! He couldn’t even bring himself to write everything I just said. Poor kid. 

But it seems like Mrs. Poppins didn’t really care. “Great. So you’re saying you’re quick to act under pressure, focused on assigned tasks, and driven by results. Is that right, Mr. Russo?” She continued. 

“Perfect interpretation,  Mrs. Poppins.” I agreed, despite the fact that I meant things literally. 

Mrs. Poppins glanced down at her clipboard, unfazed. “Now, tell me, what is your weakness?” 

I put my hands under my chin as I pretended to think. “Well, I have a bad habit of finishing what I started, and I hate it when I lose my target.”

Especially when they are not in the same league. I wanted to add. 

I’m starting to feel impatient with all of these questions!

C’mon, just say you’ll keep in touch, and reject me. 

“A person who never leaves their tasks unfinished.” Mrs. Poppins finally adjusted her glasses and stood up afterwards with a smile slipping through her lips.  “You impressed me with the way you put things. Would you happen to be available to start right now?”

I blinked at her once. No, twice. Out of all the ridiculous things I heard from the handler last night, this one takes the crown.

“You’re kidding!” I almost jumped out of my seat.

“I am certainly not.” Her smile widened and extended her hands for a handshake. “Congratulations, Mr. Russo, you’re hired.”

Great. Just great!

Now, the handler would be laughing his fucking ass off the moment this reached him.

Fuck it!

Mrs. Poppins turned to the intern and whispered to him. Then, the intern, still clutching his notebook, turned to me. “This way, Sir.”

I dragged myself up, following him through a corridor lined with glass walls. Each employee has a wide desk that they customize to their needs and aesthetics. All monitors we passed through curved across their workstations, ergonomic chairs lined up, and not a single sheet of paper out of place. Even the air smells expensive from their air purifier.

The intern stopped by a corner cubicle. “This will be your station.”

My station. The words nearly made me laugh. 

It’s also identical to the other employees. The only difference was the dual monitor sitting front and center. I dragged a finger across the desk, expecting dust, but nothing came off.

Just the way I want.

“Alright, you can leave now.” I demanded, which he immediately complied.  

I dropped into the chair, feeling defeated. Everything feels like a prank. Are they that desperate to hire just anyone, even if it means answering their interview questions sarcastically? 

A couple of minutes of busy typing passed, and the sound of heels came.

That’s when the atmosphere shifted.

The glass door at the far end opened, and in walked a woman who seemed to carry the whole damn room with her. She didn’t announce herself, didn’t need to. She wore confidence like a tailored suit, heels clicking against the polished floor in a rhythm that owned the room.

Everyone stood up and greeted her. But I remained seated, watching her. Just another manager, I thought. 

Then it happened.

The intern from before, with two coffee mugs in hand, bumped into the janitor cart that the cleaning personnel temporarily left. This made him slip both mugs on his hand. It should’ve hit the floor, shattered, coffee everywhere. 

But no.

She caught it mid-air, both hands angled perfectly, without letting a single drop of coffee drip. 

No average office worker moves like that.

“Thanks, Ms. Moretti!” The intern stammered, his ears red. She only offered him a polite smile and handed over the mugs like it was nothing.

She then proceeded walking until she stopped in front of me. I glanced up and stared at the most angelic face I have ever seen up close. The kind of beauty that could drive men insane without even trying. I’ve guarded politicians’ wives, heiresses dripping in jewels, women so used to power, but none of them come close to this face.

“New hire?”