Chapter 8

The weekend breezed by swiftly, spent mainly immersed in studying and preparing for the upcoming program that commenced on Monday. My excitement was intermingled with anxiety, particularly due to the presentations and a certain individual.

On a recent Saturday, I emailed Mr. Kennedy, suggesting that an electronic application submission could be more convenient, a suggestion he promptly approved. This decision paved the way for me to begin the program this Monday instead of having to wait another week. As I got ready for work, a text from Tatum appeared:

Amy: Congrats on the almost-promotion! Let's celebrate tonight ;)

Me: Thanks! It's Monday though...

Amy: Come on, don't be a grandma. See you tonight!

Me: Fine, I'll call you later.

Amy: Haha, knew it. Call me, babe.

Sharing the almost-promotion news with Amy might have been hasty, given her enthusiastic reaction. I mentioned it yesterday in my excitement, emphasizing that it was contingent on completing the program, conveniently omitting the detail that Mr. Kennedy was the instructor. It weighed on me—I wanted to share with my best friend, but the time wasn't right, not without having some leverage. Once I had some control, I'd consider it.

My boss's appearance brought me back to the present from my thoughts. "Wishing you luck tonight, Ms. Ruth. Hope you find it enlightening," he offered with a kind smile, and I reciprocated before returning to my computer.

The clock ticked sluggishly, fueling my anxious energy as I waited for the moment to leave. Glancing up, it read 2:15, and I swiftly gathered my belongings, ensuring everything was in order for the next day. A quick farewell to my coworkers and I was out the door within minutes.

Nerves knotted inside me as I contemplated who awaited me at Black Industries, a mere 10-minute cab ride away. The ride provided 30 minutes to mentally prepare. I hailed a cab and, settling into the back seat, provided my destination: Brown Industries. The driver didn't require the address due to its renowned reputation.

As the city's skyscrapers zipped past, I daydreamed about living in a penthouse atop one of these architectural marvels. The idea of spacious rooms with breathtaking views was enticing. The taxi halted in front of the building, its grandeur both awe-inspiring and intimidating. The Black Industries logo adorned the glass façade above imposing double doors, designed by a world-renowned architect, no doubt.

A shiver ran down my spine, a mix of intimidation and excitement. Exiting the taxi after paying the fare, I stood before the imposing entrance, a sea of impeccably dressed individuals flowing in and out.

Unexpectedly, a voice broke the silence behind me. "Heading in?" A man in a gray suit with an air of curiosity stood before me. Assessing him, I replied, "Yes, to Black Industries." His arched brow and smirk grated on me. "You seemed lost in thought. Doors don't open by themselves, you know," he commented, a gross undertone beneath his words. "My business, not yours. Have a good day," I retorted, moving towards the doors. As I reached for the handle, his rumbling laugh echoed behind me.

Pushing through the doors, I stood at the reception, where a poised blonde woman in a black dress awaited. Feeling out of place, I inquired about the Navigating Business Strategies program location. Her tight smile and request for identification added to my unease. She provided directions after verifying my identity.

Elevator buttons pressed, I inhaled deeply, nerves creeping back. The door chimed at the 12th floor, and I navigated the hallway, finding Conference Room #12 at the end. I entered, surveying the table, the few early attendees, and a blonde girl around my age.

Introductions ensued with Ellie, who worked at Black Industries, and our conversations revolved around the purpose of our presence. My attempt to reveal my aspirations and promotion plans to Amy the previous day had backfired, but I held onto my secret.

Suddenly, the door I'd entered through swung open, the room's attention drawn to its entrance. A tall blonde man followed by the man of the hour, Callum Black, entered. Nervousness mingled with a buried excitement as his gaze met mine.

Callum's voice broke the silence, signaling the imminent start. His presence both thrilled and intimidated me, but I held onto my resolve. The game had begun.