CHAPTER 2: BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

SERA’S POV

The moment his question lands the room changes, the air felt more stuffy despite the chilly atmosphere. Everyone stared at me like they are all waiting to see what I’ll do.

“If you’re asking sir, if I disappear when things get hard.” I replied slowly, keeping my voice calm. “Then your answer is no I don’t, instead I appear when things get worse.” I stared at him with equal intensity.

The woman with the glasses shifted slightly in her seat. The man beside her cleared his throat, but neither of them interrupted us.

Damon didn’t answer immediately, he leaned back, resting his fingers against the arm of his chair, his eyes still on me, steady and unreadable.

“Magro.” He smirks. “Take Miss Thompson upstairs, I’ll continue from there.”

A man who i just noticed, was by the door straightens. “Yes, sir.” He nodded.

The woman with the glasses blinked in surprise. “Sir, should we….”

“That won’t be necessary, it's already settled. The interview has ended.” He replied, not raising his voice, but his voice left no room for argument.

The man in the grey suit gives a short nod. “Alright Sir.” He turned to the man with the clipboard. “You heard the boss, Steve. Clear the other interviewees out… …the interview is over.” He said, and Steve gave him a curt nod.

………….

The office was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the city, a grand piano sat in the corner. His desk was a slab of dark wood, clean and uncluttered, a single file resting in the center.

He was standing at the window, with his back turned  to me. He did not turn when I entered, Margo nodded at me and closed the door behind me. He stood there his hands in his pockets, the city sprawling beneath him.

When he finally turned, his face was calm and professional. He looked at me the way he looked at any other candidate….assessing, measuring, filing away information. There was no recognition in his eyes, no warmth, no anger. Just the cool efficiency of a man who interviewed strangers every day.

“Miss Thompson,” he said. “Please sit.” He walked to his desk and lowered himself into his chair. I sat across from him and he picked up the file on his desk m, it was then I realized it was my file. He opened it and began to read.

“Your application was submitted by a headhunter?” He asked. “Greg Cross.”

“Yes sir.” I replied, uttering silent praying.

He studied me for a moment. “Greg said you were desperate for this position.” He set the file down and folded his hands on the desk. “Is that accurate?”

I held his gaze. “I need this job, sir.”

“Why? Are you that desperate? I thought you left me….to lead a better life.”

I felt my heart tumble. “I am aware of my financial situation sir.” I replied, curtly avoiding his questions.

“Then you are also aware that this position, personal secretary to the CEO, is not a position most gallery owners would consider.” He dropped his pen, and fixed his gaze on me.

“I know It is administrative work and also very demanding Sir. But I'm ready.” I answered straight-fowardly.

“Not all that adminstrative, but very demanding. You will answer have to answer the phones, file paperwork and make coffee for me.” He paused with a smirk, letting his words sinking. “Why would someone with your qualifications want this job?”

“Because I need the money,” I said. “My gallery is failing. My landlord is threatening eviction, so Sir I'm ready to do it.”

He did not speak for a long moment. His eyes stayed on my face, searching for something I could not name. Then he closed the file.

“The position is yours, congratulations Miss Thompson.”

I blinked. “Just like that?”

“You are qualified, and you also have something the other candidates did not.” He laughed.

“What is that Sir?” I asked 

“Resume on Monday by seven o'clock. Magro will show you to your desk and review your responsibilities.” He stood up ignoring my question. 

“You will work directly outside my office, your job is to handle my correspondence, my calendar and my calls.”

“Any day I arrive before you do, or you leave before I finish for the day, then count yourself fired. Listen Miss thompson i won't give you a second chance.

“I understand Sir.” I said, standing up.

He extended his hand. “Do you have any questions?” I looked at his hand, and the calm, professional mask that gave nothing away.

“Why me?” I asked. “Why would you hire a gallery owner with a gap in her resume and a failing business?”

“That wasn’t the question i expected, anyway welcome to Venus Industries.” He smiled, and shook my hand.

I pulled my hand back. “Thank you Sir.” I turned toward the door. My hand was on the handle when he spoke again.

“Miss Thompson, If you do not want this position, tell me now I will call Greg and tell him we found another candidate. You can walk out of this building and never come back, afterall you are perfect at doing that.”

I turned, he was standing behind his desk, his hands flat on the glass, watching me with those blue eyes. “Is that what you want Damon?” I asked.

“You made the choice five years ago without asking me, why doing so now?” He questioned with a raised brow.

“But….. …I..” 

 

“Be mindful, Miss Thompson i don't trust those who have betrayed me once.” He leaned forward slightly. 

I stared at him. “You do not know anything about me Damon.”

“It’s Mr Blackwood or Sir to you Miss Thompson.” He growled, his attitude taking a 360 degree turn. 

“I know about you more than you think, so you respect yourself and know your place Miss, or don't you want the job anymore?” He asked coldly.

I did not know what to say nor what to feel. “I want the job sir” I said politely.

“Then take it, and don’t disappear on it.” I nodded and turned back to the door 

“Sera.” He called quietly, I nodded and looked back. He was standing in the same spot, his hands in his pockets now, his face unreadable.

“Why did you leave five years ago, Sera?”

“Mr blackwood…..” I stammered.

“Don't do that Serah, don't lie to me.” He cut through my speech, his voice low and dangerous. "Because I spent five years imagining every reason you left, every scenario, every man. and every lie. But none of them hurt as much as seeing you walk back into my life like you didn't destroy me."

“I didn't destroy you Damon, I saved you. There were more important things that were worth protecting and fighting for.”

“Really?” He asked with a depreciating smile.

“I beg to take my leave Mr Blackwood.” I replied, instead of answering his question.

“Were those things, you were protecting five years ... .more important than the love we shared?” He asked, locking eyes with me.

“Yes they were, and they still are.” I replied, and walked out of his office.

I walked into the streets stubbornly fighting back my tears, when the phone buzzed with a message. I took and opened the message, it was a strange number.

“Welcome back to New York Serah…..we are watching her.”  The message read, attached to it was a picture of Mia, a thick red X marked over her face.