Chapter One : The Interview

© 2026 Aridah. All rights reserved. This work is protected by copyright. No part of this story may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without permission from the author.

Author’s Note ✨

Welcome to The Reluctant Daddy CEO.

This is a slow-burn romance built on tension, vulnerability, and growth. It’s not just about love. It's about healing, responsibility, and the choices we make when life doesn’t go as planned.

Thank you for giving this story a chance. I hope you enjoy the journey as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Updates will be at least three times a week. Always on Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays.

This book is an original work by me. Please do not copy, repost, or distribute any part of it without my permission.

Your support, comments, and reads mean everything to me 🤍

— Aridah

ASHLEY.

"Wake up, Ashley, it’s almost time for your interview,” my best friend screamed in my face, and I jolted awake.

I checked my phone on the nightstand and my eyes widened.

OMG!

I had less than an hour to get to the building. It would take me about forty-five minutes to get to the office.

I scrambled out of bed, throwing a glare at my roommate and best friend.

"Don’t blame me. I’ve been trying to wake you up for the past half an hour,” her voice reached me as I entered the bathroom.

I took the quickest shower of my life and threw on the clothes I had laid out yesterday.

After grabbing an apple and my bag that contained everything I needed, I ran out of the building. I rushed to the bus station and managed to get the last available seat.

Getting a job at Bianchi Inc. was difficult. It was one of the best companies in the world. They had branches everywhere, but their headquarter’s here in New York.

The CEO had the face of a Greek god, every lady’s dream except mine.

Nicholas Bianchi was very beautiful and a certified playboy. I didn't understand why he had girls falling at his feet like he was some kind of god. But I had enough problems to worry about than to drool over a man who could never be mine.

I stumbled upon the advert for the job of his personal assistant while scrolling through job vacancies online. I needed the job. I had piling bills after being fired from my last job last month.

My best friend, Maya, was kind enough to pay the bills for the month. But I hated depending on someone for anything.

I got off at my stop and hurried toward the building. I had less than five minutes to spare.

I entered after composing myself, straightened my black dress, and approached the receptionist.

She gave me a once-over, and I rolled my eyes internally. "Hello, I’m here for the interview."

"Name?" she asked.

"Ashley Walker," I replied as she typed into her laptop.

"Take the elevator to the thirty-seventh floor."

I went in the direction of the elevator and got in.

I fiddled with my fingers nervously.

The elevator opened, and I stepped out quickly. I stepped into a hallway full of people.

I settled down on one of the available seats while fiddling with my fingers. I revised my answers to the usual questions in my head.

Names were called, and I observed them from their outfits to their poise. The black dress was one of the good clothes I owned.

At that moment, I wasn't sure I had any chance in getting the job.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I took it out.

I didn't bother checking the message after seeing the sender’s name.

I didn't need any negative energy at the moment. "Ashley Walker?” a voice asked.

I got up immediately as the lady motioned me over.

She stopped in front of an office. “Good luck,” she said before disappearing.

I exhaled once more before entering.

Here goes nothing.

I pushed the door open and was amazed. The office was massive - expensive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, sleek dark furniture, and an air of quiet authority that made my spine straighten instantly.

And then I saw him.

The CEO of Bianchi Inc. stood by his desk, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a tailored black suit that looked like it had been made for him alone. Dark hair neatly styled, sharp jawline, lips set in the infamous smirk.

He looked every inch of a successful CEO. Confidence clung to him like a cologne.

My brain short-circuited for half a second.

His blue eyes met mine. He looked at me like he could see through my soul. I felt more nervous than I already was.

He picked up a file from his desk, flipping it open like my presence was routine like I wasn’t internally melting into the carpet.

"Have a seat, Miss Walker,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, eyes still on the paper.

I sat quickly, crossing my legs and placing my hands in my lap before they could betray how shaky I was.

"So,” he began, leaning back slightly in his chair, “tell me about yourself.”

I swallowed. “I recently worked as a secretary for some firm.”

The job was difficult and the pay was meagre.

He nodded once, eyes dropping back to the file. His smirk faded away, and his eyes were more serious.

"It says here that you were fired. Can you share why?”

I cleared my throat before nodding. “My boss wanted something that I couldn't give.”

I left it at that, hoping he understood the underlying meaning of my words.

I wished I could sue that old pig.

"Why Bianchi Inc.?”

"It’s one of the most respected companies in the country,” I replied honestly. “And the pay is good.”

"Can you handle long hours?”

"Yes.”

“Pressure?”

"I work better under it.”

Each answer came easily because it's just like I memorized. Something I was used to after applying to many companies. He didn’t react. He just continued flipping through my resume, occasionally jotting something down.

Then, he closed the file.

This time, he looked at me fully.

My heart stuttered. I squirmed under his intense gaze, and my cheeks flushed.

"One final question,” he said. “If you were managing my schedule and two meetings overlapped, both equally important. How would you handle it?”

Okay. Tricky.

I paused, thinking carefully. I didn't plan for something like this.

Like I wasn’t expecting him to even bother with questions due to his reputation.

"I’d assess the urgency… and long-term impact of both meetings,” I replied. “If possible, I’d communicate with the involved parties to reschedule one without disrupting productivity. If rescheduling isn’t an option, I’d ensure you’re prepared for both, delegating where necessary and minimizing wasted time.”

He studied me for a moment.

Really studied me.

I held his gaze, refusing to look away even though my pulse was racing.

Then, barely there, his lips curved back into that infamous smirk.

But it was enough to send a strange spark through my chest.

He leaned back in his seat. “Finally, I don't mix business with pleasure… no matter how pretty they look.”

I was stunned. Did I hear him correctly?

"You are not my type."

His infamous smirk came back. “Thank you for your time, Miss Walker.”

"Did… I get the job?” I blurted out.

He smiled. “We would be in touch. Have a nice day.”

I got up from the chair and mustered a small smile. “You too.”

I walked out of the room, still feeling the tiny Bianchi effect in my stomach.

Could I really handle him - his effect if I get the job?