3 ~ The Wrong Hall, Right Distraction

DORIAN

My chances of getting the job were shrinking with every rushed step I took through the towering gates of Vale Enterprise. I paused for a second to check my watch—and instantly regretted it.

Who the hell shows up late to an interview for a job that sounds too good to be true?

Apparently, me. Of course, me.

My palms were already clammy just thinking about it, each step closer to the front desk another inch closer to a no.

No company wants to hire someone who can’t even be punctual. And just to make matters worse? My resume didn’t exactly scream “CFO material.”

“I’m here for the interview. The Chief Financial Officer position. I think…” I added the last part in a hushed mutter, hoping the receptionist wouldn’t catch how uncertain I sounded.

She gave me a tight smile and started tapping away at the landline in front of her.

“Well, Mr. Keene. You’re late. I assume you already know that.” Her voice had a bite to it, and I curled my fingers into fists inside my pockets, scrambling for something—anything—to say.

“I mean, yeah, I know… but I have a solid explanation. Traffic was a nightmare, and then, right outside the building, someone splashed mud all over me. I had to run home to change. I couldn’t just show up smelling like…”

She cut me off by turning her attention completely to the call she was making. Not even a blink in my direction.

“Please,” I added, desperate. “I know this looks bad, but… surely there’s some room for…”

She slammed the receiver down with a sharp clack, rolling her eyes before meeting my gaze.

“Third floor. Hall six. You’re already late, so I suggest you stop wasting more time. And between us? Even our janitor talks less than you do.”

Her voice faded out as I bolted for the elevator.

Third floor. Hall six.

Or was it the sixth floor? Hall three?

My mind scrambled for clarity, the receptionist’s voice looping in my head like a scratched record. I swallowed hard and settled on the third floor, hall six.

That sounded right… right?

I punched the button and pulled out my phone, skimming through the notes Ronan had helped me prep last night. Every word, every possible question, drilled into me by that beautiful man’s midnight lectures.

And talking of Vale Enterprise, the building smelled like money, power, and anxiety—all things I didn’t bring with me.

The elevator dinged open and I stepped out, adjusting my tie and slicking back the stubborn curl in my hair. My palms were already a mess, so I wiped them discreetly on my pants.

Gross, yeah. But necessary.

I reached Hall six, took a deep breath, and twisted the handle open with a small creak.

All eyes turned to me the second I stepped in.

A long table with a group of stern-looking people. A dimly lit projector flickering across serious faces. And there was silence so sharp that it cut through me.

“Who are you?” Asked the man at the end of the table, his voice was like steel wrapped in silk.

My mouth went dry. My brain fogged.

“I… I’m Dorian. And a little confused,” I muttered.

There were murmurs. Two security guys began making their way toward me.

‘How did I get here?’

I tried to rewind the moment, piece together the steps—but it was like someone had scrubbed the memory clean.

“Dorian Keene? Applying for the CFO role?” The man asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes,” I answered carefully, holding my file tighter, trying to seem composed when I absolutely wasn’t. “I was told my interview was here.”

“This is Hall three, Mr. Keene. Your interview is in Hall six.”

My heart dropped.

And that’s when it hit me—this wasn’t the interview room.

I blinked at the plaque on the wall beside me.

Hall three.

Shit.

I barely held back the loud curse building in my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I said, backing out quickly as the tension in the room crackled like static.

Get it together, Dorian.

I made it to the real Hall six this time, hesitating only slightly before opening the door.

Inside was a woman seated at a desk, her expression unreadable. “Mr. Keene?” She asked. I nodded, forcing a breath out. “You’re late,” she said bluntly.

I opened my mouth to explain but promptly shut it. I had already done enough damage for one morning.

“Let’s begin,” she said, flipping open a folder as the door behind me creaked open.

And then he walked in.

A man in every possible sense of the word.

Tall—easily 6'5. Blue eyes that could freeze time. Broad shoulders. Lips that looked like they belonged in a sin.

“Mr. Keene,” he said, his voice smooth and commanding. “You can consider me the second interviewer.”

He extended a hand. I took it immediately, my smile automatic, my thoughts not so much.

His voice rang in my ears like déjà vu. Familiar. Too familiar.

Was he… the same man from the other hall? Or am I losing it?

“I’m sorry, have we met before?” I asked, my brows furrowed slightly.

He smiled, and the damn room lit up.

“Highly unlikely,” he said, that calm tone not giving anything away. “But not totally impossible.”

One look at those eyes again and—God help me—I already knew I would be completely ruined for the rest of this interview.