Something Personal

[Few Minutes Earlier]

Christopher's POV

"Since when did you become so incompetent, Marcus?" I groaned, slamming the papers to my desk.

He didn't respond.

"At this rate I should just post the full advert online and wait for the flood of women to come marching. Maybe then I'll find what I want."

"I assure you, sir. That would be unwise," Marcus said.

I huffed, grabbing the papers as I got up. "What about the last candidate?"

"She isn't here, sir. Probably not going to show up."

I snorted. "It's going to be a waste of my time, anyway. Even if she does show up, send her away."

"Understood, sir."

I walked out of the office and into the elevator, my brows pinched tightly as I began scanning the files again.

Annie Watson — Gold digger.

Vanessa Wade — Promiscuous.

Samantha Cole — Desperate for publicity.

Chloe Benjamin — Far too curious.

I was so engrossed in the file that I barely registered the elevator doors sliding open.

Madeline Bri—

I looked up as soon as I sensed movement in front of me. My gaze locked onto wide amber eyes just as the woman came crashing into me.

The impact knocked me a step back. She stumbled, landing on her backside.

Her skirt ripped slightly, but she didn't seem to notice. She scrambled up, shoved my papers into my hands, and rambled an apology about being late for her interview.

Her phone slipped from her pocket. She grabbed it, screeched, then hurriedly pushed me out of the elevator.

Out of my own elevator.

I blinked at the empty space, still trying to wrap my head around what just happened, then my gaze trailed to the elevator's number.

Fifth floor.

Ah... so she was here for my interview.

Unkept. Exhausted. Desperate. A tad malnourished. Young. Too thin, but not fragile.

No expensive clothes. No polished appearance. No air of entitlement.

She looked like someone who needed the money badly enough to endure almost anything.

I smiled.

Exactly the kind of woman I was looking for.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, then dialed Marcus's line. He picked on the first ring.

"The last candidate."

"I already sent her away, sir."

"Call her back immediately. I will be in the observation room as you interview her."

I ended the call, as I took the elevator back to the fifth floor. I leafed through the files, frowning when I noticed there was no picture of the woman.

"Strange..." I muttered.

The last candidate was supposed to be Lola Stephen. A blonde-haired and blue-eyed woman. So how had this brown-haired and amber-eyed woman ended up here instead?

Well, it didn't matter.

Perhaps the universe had just saved me the trouble of finding any more candidates by giving me one who could maybe be the answer to my prayers.

And the interview was going to tell me exactly who the hell she was.

Amelia's POV

I turned to the voice. It was a man.

"You are Amelia Marlowe, right?"

I nodded.

"Come in." He left the door a jar and walked back inside.

Huh?

I cleaned whatever remnants of tears might have stuck to my face as I walked back to the door. I gingerly stepped into the office, marveling at the interior.

"Sit." The man pointed to a seat opposite him before taking his own seat. I mimicked him, closing my legs as best as I could.

"You were supposed to be here at 10 sharp."

"I know, sir. Something... came up," I replied meekly.

He hummed as he flipped through pages of a book. "It's quite strange you're here. You weren't on our list."

I frowned.

"How did you apply?"

"Um... a friend sent me the link."

His brows furrowed tightly.

"This friend must have been Miss Stephen, I assume."

I shook my head. "His name's Greg. A coworker from the club I work at."

"Ah... I see," he hummed, nodding. "You see... this link was sent to only twenty candidates, Miss Marlowe. I have to assume this Greg person must have got his hands on the link by chance and decided to send it to you."

"Oh."

"Miss Stephen on the other hand, must not have applied on time so... you unknowingly snagged her position at this interview."

"I see..."

"Quite unfortunate for Miss Stephen, but my boss wouldn't have accepted her anyway. Same goes for you."

Ouch.

"Anyway, let's go through the usual." He opened another leaner book.

"Um... can I ask a question?"

"Sure," he muttered, still leafing through the book.

"What position are we applying for, sir?"

"That is confidential. You'll know if you get accepted. Which is quite unlikely at this point."

Asshole.

He grabbed a pen and a clean sheet of paper, then he began scribbling.

"Elizabeth," the man called, and the lady that had turned me away came forward.

"Da, Sovietnik," Elizabeth said. [Yes, consigliere.]

The man's jaw ticked, his grip tightened around the pen. Then he glared at Elizabeth.

"Ty tupaya?" Marcus hissed. [Are you stupid?] "Ty chto, ne vidish zdes' grazhdanskogo?" [What? Can't you see a civilian here?]

I swallowed, shrinking into myself as Elizabeth lowered he gaze. I may not have understood a word of what he said, but I could tell he was irritated.

"I am sorry, Mr Larvin," Elizabeth said, bowing slightly.

He scoffed before turning back to his paper. "Get coffee for Miss Marlowe."

"Yes, sir." She bowed again before walking away.

I wriggled my fingers in my laps.

Okay... so maybe I was contemplating the work ethics of this place and evaluating if it would be a good fit for my mental health.

Elizabeth came back a few minutes later and handed me the coffee. I said a quiet "thank you," before sipping it.

"Are you a virgin?"

I coughed loudly, smacking my chest as if to remove the coffee that had gone the wrong pipe. Elizabeth handed me a bottle of water and I gulped it down greedily.

Finally, I exhaled before turning back to the man. He just stared at me blankly, not minding the fact that people actually died from things like that.

"What?"

"Are you a virgin, Miss Marlowe?"

"W-why are you asking—"

"It is standard procedure. If you are not comfortable with it, then use the door."

I gritted my teeth, fixing him a glare.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't seem to mind though.

"No."

"Good." He turned back to scribbling on his paper.

“Have you ever been pregnant?”

I cleared my throat. "Uhm... no."

"Have you ever had an abortion?”

I shifted in my seat. "No."

“Have you ever been diagnosed with an STI?”

My brows pinched tightly. God knows I was two seconds away from smashing his head into the glass wall behind him. "No."

"Do you do drugs or any kind of substance?"

"No."

He nodded again. "How many sexual partners have you had, and how many do you have currently?"

I blushed, embarrassed. "Uh... three then, none now," I muttered.

"I see..." he mumbled.

"When was the last time you were sexually active?"

Oh God. It was almost as if they just kept getting more and more invasive.

"I-I don't know," I mumbled.

He raised his head to stare at me.

"I need a definite answer, Miss Marlowe."

"I can't remember, honestly."

And that was the truth. Life had taken a full time job in fucking my life up. I didn't even have the space to think about sex, talk more of have one.

He tapped his pen against the desk, squinting at me as if trying to figure out if I was lying or not.

Tough luck, buddy.

He let out a low breath, then turned back to his paper.

"Do you have a close number in mind."

I shrugged. "I think sometime last year." I vividly remember having a drunken sex with Greg in one of the changing rooms.

He hummed.

Seriously? We still weren't done?

“When was your last menstrual period?”

"What exactly are we these questions for?" I asked, frustrated.

"As I said before, it is confidential. You'll be given the privilege of knowing if Mr Kstervenchi finds you fit for the job."

My lips pressed into a thin line.

"Early this month."

He tsked lightly. "We'll have to wait till your next ovulation cycle then," he muttered.

My face twisted into a look of disgust.

Finally, he dropped his pen, grabbed his phone, before walking to the end of the room. His fingers moved across the screen fast, before placing it against his ear.

I couldn't hear what he was saying, and after all the questions I just endured, I had no zeal to know.

So I sat there, wondering what the hell I'd just gotten myself into.

Christopher POV

I sat through all the questions, my gaze solely trained on hers as I watched through the two-way glass in the observation room.

She was fidgety, but there were no marks on her body that suggested drug abuse. Her hair looked greasy.

Dark circles lay underneath her eyes, her fingers were cracked and her skin dry.

Either she has some huge debt that needed settling or she was running away from someone. It didn't matter though, all these were things I could handle.

The point was that she was perfect.

She was unlike the other females who came in looking put together, and that was what made her stand out.

My phone buzzed, I picked, before placing the it against my ear.

"What do you think, Boss?"

"She'll do."

Marcus went silent for a moment.

"Are you certain, Boss? She doesn't look very healthy."

"But she is, no? Tell Miss Marlowe to watch her phone."

"Yes, Boss."

"And have Liz run a background check on her.” I watched her through the glass, still sitting there with her hands in her lap, not knowing she’d already been chosen. “I want to know who she is before she knows what I want.”