Chapter 7

Anna stood paralyzed, her feet rooted to the carpet as she locked eyes with Anthony. He didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He just watched her, his gaze heavy and unreadable, pinned her to the spot.

“Sit, please,” the other interviewer prompted. The voice snapped the invisible thread holding her gaze to Anthony’s. Anna nodded frantically, her movements jerky as she took her seat. Under the table, she laced her fingers together so tightly her knuckles turned white, trying to force her breathing into a steady rhythm. Having him in the room felt like trying to breathe in a vacuum.

“I must say, Ms. Anna, I am impressed with your designs. They are unique,” another interviewer noted, leaning forward. “Where do you get your inspiration from?”

“I… I…” The word caught in her throat. Her mind, usually full of colors and textures, had gone completely blank.

“Are you okay, Ms. Anna? Or should we end the interview here?” Anthony’s voice sliced through her stutter. It wasn’t kind; it was ice-cold.

“No, no. I… I mean… my inspiration…” She was spiraling, her composure crumbling like dry sand.

“I think we should give her a minute,” the second interviewer suggested softly, sensing her distress.

“Get out, Ms. Anna,” Anthony commanded. The rudeness of it hit her like a physical blow, causing her eyes to widen. “That’s the end of the interview.”

A hot sting pricked the corners of her eyes. She refused to let a single tear fall—not in front of him. Pushing back her chair, she forced a faint, trembling smile, turned on her heel, and prepared to flee. The other interviewers began to whisper, their murmurs a dull hum in her ears. Fired before I even got the job. And because of him. Fuck this, she thought, her blood finally beginning to simmer with a spark of anger.

“Wait!” Anthony’s voice rang out.

Anna halted. She realized she hadn’t even made it two steps; she was still standing right by her chair. She turned back slowly.

“Are you ready for your interview now?” he asked, his tone stern, challenging her.

Anna took a deep breath, grounding herself. The panic retreated, replaced by a sudden, sharp clarity. “Yes. I am ready for this interview,” she said, her voice finally finding its floor.

He signaled to the chair with a slight tilt of his head. She sat, spine straight this time.

“We will take this again,” Anthony declared.

“So,” the first interviewer repeated, “where did your inspiration come from?”

“I got my inspiration from my mother,” Anna said, a genuine smile tugging at her lips. “All her life, jewelry design was her world. She taught me everything I know. Now, whenever I think of her, the designs just… flow.”

“Your mother never thought about going into the business? She’s clearly talented,” the man remarked. “If you can design like this, I can’t imagine what she’s capable of.”

“She lost the passion,” Anna replied, her voice softening but remaining steady. “But I want to prove to her that her dream can still come true through me.”

The committee began to deliberate in low voices. Throughout it all, Anthony’s gaze never left her face. Anna felt the weight of it, but this time, she didn't look back. She stared straight ahead, waiting.

“We have seen your work and we are impressed,” the head interviewer said, turning to his side. “Is there something you would like to say, Anthony?”

“She got the job,” Anthony stated. The words hung in the air, blunt and final.

The other interviewers traded stunned glances, but Anthony didn’t give them room to protest. “Tell the rest of the candidates to leave,” he commanded, his voice hardening. “And I need the two of you to head out as well. I want a private interview with my new employee.”

The room cleared in a blur of hushed whispers. As the door clicked shut, a wave of heat surged through Anna’s veins. Anthony rose from his chair, his movements predatory and slow. Anna froze, her fingers digging into the fabric of her skirt as he circled the table. He didn't stop in front of her; he glided past until he was looming directly behind her.

He leaned down, his breath ghosting over her skin before his lips pressed a lingering kiss against her neck. A violent shiver raced down her spine, and a sharp, sudden ache blossomed between her thighs. When his lips moved to the shell of her ear, a soft, traitorous moan escaped her.

“Do I make you that nervous?” he whispered. His voice was a low vibration that made her feel liquid. She could feel the dampness of her panties as he stepped around to face her. “Do you know why I gave you this job?”

“For… for my talent,” she managed, though her voice lacked any real conviction.

“Yes. And because I love how obedient you are.” He bit his lip, his eyes dark with intent. “Now you’re closer to me.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss so soft it was agonizing. “Did you miss me?”

Thirsty for more, Anna leaned forward to close the gap, but he pulled back just an inch. A small whimper died in her throat, unheard. “Do you want to do it here, in my office?”

The question acted like a splash of cold water. Anna’s internal alarm bells finally rang, forcing her to snap out of the haze. She stood up abruptly, her heart hammering against her ribs.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity, sir,” she said, her voice trembling as she tried to regain her professional mask. “This means a lot. I’ll… I’ll take my leave now.”

She turned to flee, but his hand shot out, his fingers locking around her wrist. He yanked her back, pulling her flush against his chest. He looked down at her, seeing the intoxication in her eyes, the way her body practically hummed with the need to have him take her right there on the desk.

“I want you in my bed,” he said, his tone dropping any pretense of playfulness.

Anna couldn't find her voice; she simply nodded. A triumphant smile played on his lips as he released her. “Your phone?”

She handed it over without a second thought. He punched in his number, dialed it, and handed it back. “I’ll call you. You can leave now.”

As she turned, he grabbed her one last time, crashing his mouth against hers in a deep, bruising kiss. They both groaned into the heat of it. When they finally broke apart, a thin silver thread of saliva lingered between them. Anna’s knees felt like lead.

“Go,” he murmured.

Anna floated out of the building, a dazed, permanent smile fixed on her face. She hailed a cab, her mind replaying the touch of his lips all the way to her front door. But as she reached for her keys, she realized the door was already unlatched. Jake is home.

Her smile faltered. As she stepped into the foyer, a muffled, rhythmic sound drifted from the bedroom. Her heart skipped a beat, a cold pit forming in her stomach.

“You fuck me so good!” a woman’s voice wailed, followed by a sharp moan.

The heat of the afternoon vanished, replaced by a sickening chill. Anna pushed the bedroom door open. The sight hit her like a physical blow: Jake was there, bending a woman over the bed, driving into her raw.

When he turned and saw Anna standing in the doorway, his face drained of color, his eyes bulging in pure, reflected shock.