1:50 PM
I finally arrived at King's Estates in time. Thanks to God, there was no traffic. Calming my nerves, I walked in with as much poise as I could manage, my bag hanging from my right arm and the letter secured safely in the envelope I was holding.
Or strangling it, if it were alive.
I reached the reception desk and introduced myself to the lady sitting there.
"How can I help you?" she asked with a huge smile and that kind of robotic voice used by customer service—when deep inside, they probably wished to snub you or tell you to disappear.
Fake.
"I have an appointment. I'm here for the application—secretary position," I replied, explaining like I was waiting for a light bulb to flick on above her head.
But instead, she looked down at her monitor and typed who-knows-what into the keyboard.
1:55 PM
I'm not gonna make it.
Beginning to get restless, I tapped on her desk. She raised her head toward me and muttered, "A minute, please," before going back to the screen.
1:57 PM
God, please help me out here.
"Here," she finally said, handing me a pass card. "For the elevator," she added. "Fifth floor. First door on your right..."
I didn't wait for more explanation.
I dashed straight to the open elevator from which two men in expensive suits had just stepped out. I was already late, but if I could get to the fifth floor before 2:00, I might still be considered… right?
Fingers crossed.
The elevator dinged.
I stepped out onto the fifth floor and followed the receptionist's instructions—first door on the right. I didn't notice the desk stationed on the left side of the hallway with a sign that read "Secretary" in bold, or the plastic plate on the door that read:
R.K – CEO.
1:59 PM
God help me!
From the other side of the room, a deep, masculine voice called out, "Come in."
Without delay, I opened the door and stepped inside.
2:00 PM
The office was stunning. Cream-colored wallpaper, a black couch by the left side of the door. Hanging above the couch was an abstract painting of a face—it looked like it was in pain.
In front of me was a dark brown desk, and behind it sat the man I hadn't noticed yet. His back was to me as he scribbled on some paperwork.
I waited. One whole minute of standing there, and he didn't even glance in my direction.
Seriously?
I cleared my throat.
If not for the fact that I wasn't employed yet—or the fact that I froze as soon as I saw who he was—I might've laughed at how startled he looked when he turned.
Staring back at me, startled, was the man I'd only ever seen on TV and business magazines.
The man everyone feared.
The man who wouldn't think twice before firing you.
The man with a dark aura and a frown carved across his ridiculously handsome face.
This man—I was not expecting to meet.
This man was Richard King.
I froze.
Half of my mind was paralyzed by fear.
The other half?
By awe.
He's so handsome.
His thick brows nearly touched from the frown, his beautiful big blue eyes were fixed on my face—cold and unreadable. His lips...
Wait—why am I thinking about his lips?
He sat in his office chair in a navy-blue jacket, looking like one of those young, handsome mafia bosses from novels who end up falling for the innocent girl.
What am I doing?
I'd never met anyone from the King family before, but I'd heard stories about how they ran business. And if there was one thing I knew—it was that if I didn't say something now, I'd be kicked out without a second glance.
Say something.
"Go... good morning, sir," I said.
My voice came out way more pitched than I wanted.
Get. It. Together.
He was still staring. I forced myself to continue. "My name is Lily Morgan. I applied for the post of secretary and was told—"
"You're late," he cut me off, eyes back on the paperwork.
Without thinking, I blurted out, "I am not."
He slowly looked up again—this time, with an amused expression.
I didn't know whether it was my guts that amused him… or the stupidity of denying something so obvious.
"Your deadline was by 2:00 PM," he said, nodding toward the wall clock I hadn't noticed. "You're fifteen minutes late."
2:15.
"I arrived here earlier—1:50 to be precise—and if your receptionist hadn't wasted so much time, I'd have been here on time."
I wasn't sure where I found the courage to speak like that, but I pushed on.
He dropped the paperwork, his focus now fully on me.
"Miss Lily," he said, pointing at the chair in front of me. "Sit."
Right. I'd been standing the whole time.
I sat slowly.
"You were sent a mail a week ago to submit your recommendation letter," he said. "You failed to do so. And now, with 2:00 PM being the deadline, you show up here and claim not to be late. It makes me wonder if my time reads differently from yours."
He said it like a teacher explaining a simple math problem to a slow student. His tone didn't just make me feel small—it made me look small.
Of course he thought I was stupid.
And maybe I was. But it wasn't entirely my fault.
If someone had told me I needed a recommendation letter to get the job, I'd have requested it right after graduation. And if the school hadn't delayed sending it, I'd already be at a desk—my desk—attending to clients.
Stupid.
For a second, I wanted to leave. Just get up and walk out of his office.
But then I thought of Mom. And Ivy. How they'd stayed up late checking my emails. How I'd wake up to Ethan at the computer, refreshing my inbox, hoping to see something.
I couldn't walk away.
Not without trying. Not for their sake.
If Richard King thought I was stupid, then my next move wouldn't surprise him.
I reached into the envelope, pulled out the recommendation letter, and placed it on his desk.
"I admit that I was late," I said, voice calm. "I was unaware of the need for a recommendation letter to qualify for a job at King's Estates. I requested one from my school, but unfortunately, it didn't arrive until this afternoon."
I surprised myself.
I'd never spoken so... professionally before.
Nice PR skills.
Okay, maybe there was a tiny lie in there, but we all have to share the blame sometimes. And if I couldn't blame the school admin directly, I might as well do it here.
He picked up the letter, calm and calculated. Just like the paperwork.
There wasn't anything special in it—just a few bullet points about how well I performed in school.
So what exactly was I hoping he'd see?
He finished reading and set it down. Then he looked at me again—with full seriousness and a hint of curiosity.
Without a word, he picked up the phone and dialed.
He's calling security.
I tensed. If he wasn't going to hire me, he could just say it. Why call someone to escort me out?
Unless...
What if I was overthinking?
What if he was calling someone to show me my office?
I hoped.
"Come to my office. Now," he said into the phone.
So much for hope.
Any chance I had of staying vanished. He was throwing me out.
What was I even thinking? I didn't belong here. If this were a startup or a small firm, maybe I'd stand a chance. But this?
This was King's Estates. I was nowhere near its standard.
I began to stand. "I under—"
A knock interrupted me.
They're here. The security team.
But instead of bulky guards, a woman in her mid-thirties walked in. Blonde hair, gray eyes, and a green suit that looked expensive. Her name tag read:
Mary Owen.
I turned back to Richard, only to find his gaze still on me.
How long had he been watching me?
Did he see how tense I was?
"You were saying?" he asked.
"It was nothing," I replied.
The frown returned as he turned to Mary.
"This is Lily Morgan, applicant for the secretary post. Here is her recommendation letter. Add it to her file, work on the appointment letter, and bring me the file I gave you last week—the one titled 'Secretary,'" he instructed.
Mary nodded politely, took the letter, and turned toward the door.
"Tell Brad I want to see him," Richard added, not even glancing at her.
"Yes, sir," she replied and exited, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Once again, I was alone…
In the lion's den.
Scratch that.
The King's den.