My fingers fidgeted uselessly against the edge of my folder.
"Yeah," I said softly. "He does."
After that, I tried to focus on anything else. The lobby. The other candidates. The faint scent of coffee drifted from somewhere behind reception. The whisper of footsteps across marble. Anything that wasn't the fact that Adrian Blackwood had just walked into the building where I was about to interview for my future.
A few minutes later, a woman in a navy suit came to the waiting area and called my name.
My stomach dropped.
I stood too quickly, nearly knocking my knee against the chair. I smoothed my blazer with both hands, then immediately hated myself for it because I now felt even more nervous than before.
Ethan rose too, offering a small encouraging smile. "Good luck."
"Thanks."
My voice came out thinner than I wanted.
I followed the woman down a quiet hallway lined with framed photographs of Blackwood International hotels from around the world. I barely saw them. My attention kept snagging on the sound of my own breathing, the whisper of my shoes, the way my palms had suddenly gone warm and cold at the same time.
At the interview room door, the woman stopped and turned to me.
"You'll be meeting with three executives," she said. "Mr. Blackwood will be present as well."
My stomach performed a full, horrifying somersault.
I forced a nod.
"Of course he will," I muttered after she'd already turned away.
The door opened.
The room was bright, polished, and intimidating in the way only important rooms could be. Three executives sat on one side of a long table, folders in front of them. Adrian stood near the far end, one hand on the back of his chair, his posture relaxed in the way powerful men made it look effortless, and everyone else had to practice.
He looked up when I entered.
Just once.
Just enough.
I walked to the chair across from them, my body aware of every inch of space between us. I set my folder down and placed both hands neatly in my lap because if I didn't, I was fairly certain my fingers would betray me.
"Good morning, Miss Storm," one of the executives said.
"Good morning."
They began with standard questions. Why hotel management? What aspects of hospitality mattered most to me? How would I handle guest relations in a luxury setting? I answered each one carefully, my voice steadier than I felt. When I thought, I paused. When I answered, I met their eyes. My palms rested lightly against the edge of the chair to keep them still.
Then Adrian spoke.
"Blackwood International handles properties across several continents," he said, his voice even and calm. "Imagine you're managing a flagship hotel during a public crisis that has already reached the press. Guest trust is slipping. Staff morale is dropping. What do you do first?"
My mouth went dry.
Not because I didn't know the answer.
Because I knew he wanted to see how I thought.
I drew in a quiet breath through my nose and let it out slowly.
"First, I'd stop the panic from spreading," I said. "The staff needs clarity before they can give it to anyone else. Then I'd focus on honest communication with guests. No excuses. Not polished half-truths. People can forgive mistakes faster than they can forgive being lied to."
One of the executives looked up from his notes.
Adrian's pen paused.
I kept going before nerves could swallow my voice.
"If the issue were public, I'd make sure the response showed accountability immediately. Luxury doesn't mean perfect. It means dependable. People stay loyal to a brand when they believe the brand will be honest with them, even when things go wrong."
Silence followed.
Not bad silence.
Careful silence.
The kind that made every second feel longer than it was.
Adrian looked at me for a moment, unreadable again.
Then he lowered his gaze to the paper in front of him and made a small note.
My stomach tightened.
I had no idea if that was good or bad.
The interview moved on. Another question. Another answer. Another steadying breath.
By the time it ended, my back felt stiff, and my palms were damp. I hadn't realized how tense my shoulders were until I rolled them back once the chair finally cleared.
"One moment, Miss Storm," Adrian said.
The other executives filed out first, leaving the two of us alone in the room.
The silence changed immediately.
It wasn't empty.
It was full.
He set the pen down and looked at me directly.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then his expression softened, just a little.
"You handled the pressure well."
My pulse stumbled all over again.
"Thank you."
He nodded once. "You're thoughtful. That matters."
I looked down before he could see too much on my face. The compliment sat warm and strange inside me, blooming slowly beneath my ribs.
When I looked up again, he was still watching me.
Not intensely.
Not in a way anyone could call suspicious.
Just… present.
"Thank you for the opportunity," I said, and my voice came out quieter than I intended.
His gaze held mine for a beat longer.
"You earned it," he said.
Something in my chest shifted.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
He opened the door for me himself. I stepped into the hallway, then paused only once outside the room because my knees suddenly felt too aware of being knees and my lungs had forgotten their usual rhythm.
I walked back through the lobby on unsteady feet.
Ethan looked up when he saw me, eyebrows lifting in question.
I only managed a tiny shake of my head.
"I'm not sure yet," I whispered.
He grinned. "That usually means you did well."
I wanted to believe that.
By the time I reached home, the sky had gone gray with late afternoon cloud cover, and the city looked softer through the car window, almost blurred at the edges. I still felt suspended between nerves and hope as I climbed the stairs to my room.
My laptop was already on my desk.
I dropped my bag onto the chair, sat down slowly, and stared at the screen for a long moment before opening my email.
One new message.
From Blackwood International.
My breath caught.
My finger hovered over the mouse, then clicked.
I read the first line once.
Then again.
Congratulations, Ava Storm.
My entire body went still.
The next line swam into focus through the sudden sting behind my eyes.
We are pleased to offer you a position in the Executive Management Internship Program.
I stared at it without moving.
My mouth parted slightly.
My hand rose to my chest as if I could steady the strange, wild beating there.
Then, slowly, painfully, a smile began to spread across my face.
Not because Adrian was there.
Not because he had looked at me in a room full of professionals and seen something worth noting.
But because I had walked into a building that felt like a fortress and come out with proof that I belonged there.
I leaned back in my chair and let out a breath that trembled on the way out.
Outside my window, New York was beginning to glow again, each light a small spark against the dimming sky.
I smiled at the email, then at the city beyond the glass.
And somewhere deep inside me, beneath the nerves, beneath the awe, beneath the impossible pull Adrian still had over my heartbeat, something quiet and powerful settled into place.
This was only the beginning.