CHAPTER 1- THE UNSOLICITED OFFER

The conference room was so quiet it made my skin itch. Around the table, everyone had already picked a side.

Some stared at me as I'd absolutely lost my mind. The others looked far too entertained, as if they were waiting to see how badly this would end.

"Miss Hale," Mrs. Gable called out.

Her voice had always gotten under my skin. Today, it was worse.

She adjusted her glasses and looked at me over the frame.

We'd never gotten along, and neither of us had ever pretended otherwise.

We'd argued before.

Today, neither of us was backing down.

"You need to learn to follow basic corporate instructions.”

"Not when those instructions require me to break labor laws, Mrs. Gable.”

"You've been dumping everyone else's work on my desk all week; now you're giving me another project?"

"When exactly am I supposed to do it? In my sleep?”

Someone sucked in a sharp breath.

Mrs. Gable's face tightened.

Whatever calm she'd been holding onto disappeared.

She clearly hadn't expected me to push back.

"You clearly enjoy defying authority, Quincy," she said through clenched teeth.

"And you clearly enjoy making everyone miserable.”

"Unfortunately for you, today's not the day I'm going to keep quiet.”

"Get out of my office," she whispered, her voice trembling with rage. "Get out, Miss Hale. You are terminated.”

"Gladly. Best news I've heard all day.”

I didn't wait for her to call security.

I grabbed my purse, turned on my heel, and walked out.

I slammed the door behind me.

The sound echoed through the office.

I didn't look back.

I walked straight through the lobby without looking at anyone.

The heavy, humid air hit me as I stepped onto the street.

The first cab that slowed down was mine. I climbed in and shut the door.

My head was still spinning from the argument.

The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his expression completely blank.

"Where to?”

"Just drive," I snapped, rubbing my temples.

"Sorry. Fourth Street.”

"Humph," he grunted.

The cab lurched forward so suddenly that I was thrown back into my seat.

The man drove like he'd declared war on the road. The first pothole nearly launched me into the roof.

"What the…”

He didn't even apologize.

I glared at the back of his head. He kept driving like nothashad happened.

I stared out the window.

People hurried along the sidewalks with coffee cups in one hand and briefcases in the other.

Some were heading home.

Others were heading to jobs they hated.

At least they still had jobs.

I rested my head against the window.

"Oh, Quincy…”

Three jobs in five months. Aren't you just a shining star of adult competence?

I was tired of people who thought barking orders made them good leaders.

By the time we reached my apartment, I wasn't angry anymore.

I was just tired.

I paid the driver, ignored his grunt, and made my way upstairs.

Apparently, the universe wasn't done with me yet.

My hands were still shaking. It took me three tries to get the key into the lock.

The metal scraped uselessly against the brass.

"Nice one, Quincy," I muttered.

On the fourth try, the lock finally clicked open.

"Even the door is taking Gable's side today.”

I pushed inside, shutting out the world.

The familiar scent of lavender greeted me the moment I stepped inside.

I kicked off one shoe. It hit the wall and landed somewhere in the corner.

I left it there, letting it lie in the corner to ponder its participation in my ruined day.

I rubbed my face with both hands.

You can't sit here feeling sorry for yourself, Quincy.

I grabbed my laptop from the kitchen counter and collapsed onto my bed.

I opened my laptop and pulled up my usual job site.

I scrolled through another endless list of vacancies.

Administrative assistant. Customer care representative. Front desk coordinator.

Every listing promised a competitive environment and a fast-paced culture.

I'd seen enough of those to know what they usually meant.

My eyes were starting to blur when my laptop chimed.

A new email notification popped up in the upper right corner of my screen.

Sender: HR @ Kael Industries

Subject: Immediate Job Offer / Confirmation Required

I frowned.

Kael Industries?

I searched my memory. Had I ever applied there? Nothing came up. I definitely hadn't.

Curious, and slightly suspicious, I clicked it open.

Dear Miss Hale,

Following a review of your profile, we'd like to offer you the position of Personal Assistant to the Chief Executive Officer at Kael Industries.

If you wish to accept this offer, kindly reply to this email within twenty-four hours.

Your resumption date is Tuesday at 9:00 a.m.

I stared at the text, letting out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

This was insane.

Companies like this didn't hand out jobs to strangers.

Especially not as the CEO's assistant.

I quickly opened a new tab and typed the name into G****e. The search results appeared almost instantly; Kael Industries was everywhere.

It was one of the biggest companies in the country. The kind of company everyone had heard of.

They bought dying companies, gutted them, and rebuilt them from the ground up.

It was the kind of place where people built careers...

...or lost them.

A company that size didn't send emails like this by accident.

A sudden, strange chill prickled the back of my neck, and I slowly lowered the laptop screen.

Absolutely not.

I wasn't about to trade one nightmare for another.

I had just escaped one monster today. I didn't need a bigger, corporate-sized one.

I rolled onto my back, staring up at the cracked ceiling plaster.

But as I resolved to delete the email and forget it ever happened. I reached for the delete button...

...and stopped.

Logic told me this email was a trap, a glitch, or a beautiful scam. But desperation whispered that I didn't have the financial luxury of asking questions.

Whoever ran Kael Industries had their reasons for sending this, and right now, I needed their money more than I cared about their motives.

With a heavy, defeated sigh, I rolled back over and pulled the laptop toward me.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Then I typed one word.

Accepted.