A Mistakened Shot at Fire

I had not for once felt so out of place since my entire existence.

As I stood like a statue outside the towering, dominating and cold building of Blackwood Enterprises, my heart threatened to escape my chest. Every time I mistakenly looked up, the glass windows, just like its owner, seemed to deep stare down at me like I amount to nothing but would be visualized as an ant beneath a microscope. Lucas Blackwood—the only man who could effortlessly buy the world and everything in it, and still not satisfied—was the only reason I am trapped here. And somehow, I would be out of his sight if I don't prove myself worthy of his attention.

I was able to wipe my oily sweaty palms on my skirt and posed majestically as I walked through the revolving doors. I was welcomed inside by crispy air, it gave me the feeling that I was walking into some kind of a high-tech freezer. A receptionist having the attitude of a no-nonsense taker barely glanced up even as I approached the front desk.

"I'm here to be interviewed by Mr. Lucas Blackwood," I said, trying my best to maintain my cool, keeping the tremor out of my voice.

"The name?" she asked, still not looking up, and her tone emotionless.

"Ava Mitchell, that's the name," I answered, putting in much confidence as I could muster.

She quickly typed my name into the computer, and even without sparing me a glance, she handed me a strange-looking document, which I got to know was a contract.

"You are expected to sign this before you can go in," she said flatly with no emotion.

I blinked twice. "What's this document for?"

"It's simply an NDA. You're won't be allowed to speak of anything you see in this establishment, nothing concerning Mr. Blackwood's condition should be heard outside these walls if you happen not to get the job. Not even a word," she said, her eyes narrowing to convey her message to me.

My mouth automatically went dry. His condition hidden from the public? What exactly was she trying to explain? But I knew better, I dared not to ask. The contract on a glance was clear, and the cold look she gave explained it all, I can't question it.

I reluntantly signed the document, still oblivious of what I was getting myself into. Maybe I shouldn't over think it, this could be one of those weird company protocol. As soon I got the papers signed, the receptionist stood up and gestured for me to follow her all the way to the elevator.

The agonizing moment came during the ride up to the top floor, very slow, and the higher we go, the more anerves crept up my spine. I could sense the document could put me in trouble, the air was getting more tensed as we pass each floor. What exactly had I just gotten myself to?

The doors automatically opened to a sleek, surfacing a minimalist office. Just at the far end of the room, I noticed someone backing me, sitting comfortably behind a giant desk. It was Lucas Blackwood—the man whose name carried everything power. The man who according to story, had managed to rise above his mates, creating a path from the ashes of a horrible fire that had left him worst than it met him, utterly disabled, turning him into a cruel, unsatisfied and unreachable man.

I stood there speechless, frozen like a statue, and just when I was about to release the breath I never knew I was holding, he swiveled in his chair to face me. His eyes on landing on me, were sharp, very unfriendly and cold—having the appearance of a wolf watching its prey. His facial had scars all over, such that I can't tell apart his mood. I was reminded immediately of that fire, the one that twisted his fate and left only a beast behind.

"Miss...Mitchell...," he began with icy voice, "I trust by now you might have signed the confidentiality agreement before appearing before me?"

"Yes, I have, Mr. Blackwood," I replied, focusing on maintaining a calm voice. I didn't know how I was able to maintain that, as could feel my pulse pounding heavily in my ears.

His gaze landed on me, piercing through me like a mirror. "Good then. I would only clearify one thing for you: I am allergy to failure. You want this job as you claimed, then you work your ass off to earn it. And lastly, no wastage of time, it's a great asset to me."

I swallowed the invisible lump already forming on my throat. I noticed his words always come out very sharp, like needles. The man had encountered a whole lot of demons, turning him into the person he is now, and it showed both in the way he spoke, and the way he related with people. But I noticed something else, something usual. There seemed to be something in his eyes, nothing close to cruelty, but I couldn't place my hands on it.

"You can take a seat," he ordered rather than telling me. The nearest chair was the one directly opposite his desk, and I knew better to sit there.

I sat as quietly as I could, trying not to show how rattled I was because of his presence. He wasn't in the category of man wired to show mercy.

He stared at me, carefully observing me for a long, thereby creating uncomfortable moment, his eyes not blinking a bit. "Now, tell me what motivated you to come here, what made you think you're qualified to work here. Convince me, otherwise, you are gone."

I knew that was my time, I can't afford to mess it up. Think fast, Ava. Think smart.

"I'm very capable, and I also have the qualifications, Mr. Blackwood," I said, maintaining a steady voice despite the trouble brewing in my chest. "My precious works in high-pressure environments had prepared me to take any task, and I am convinced that I can keep up. I have the experience, and I'm I'm afraid of challenging roles, rather, I'm eager to prove myself. I knew the firm I was coming to before stepping my foot here, I'm not here to waste your time."

Lucas remained expressionless as he watched me, he leaned back in his chair, piecing me with his cold gaze. He didn't make any effort to speak, instead, he did magic with his fingers as he tapped on the desk rhythmically.

"You concluded you're special, huh?" he finally said, his voice ricking of unpleasants humor, and darkness. "Everyone who manages to enter through that door assumes they're a special breed. They think they in a way merit a spot here. But none of them was patient enough to take in just half of what I've been through."

My stomach dropped at his harsh comment. What was he trying to say?

"Do you have the slightest idea of who I am, Miss Mitchell?" he continued, this time, his voice burned slowly. "I'm not your regular type of businessman. I'm not ordinary, unlike others, I survived a fire that should have ended my existence. A man who tragically lost all he had, and was left with the only option of rebuilding. And you, Ava, concluded you can handle that?"

His eyes became more devouring, like that of a prey, searching me thoroughly for any sign of weakness. I didn't dare look down or break any form of ye contact.

"I didn't come here to pity you, or take advantage of your condition, Mr. Blackwood. I'm here to earn a living by working."

"Very well then, I would hold you by your word Miss Mitchell," he said rather coldly. "You will be given a chance. But this should be clear to you: you won't be spared any slightest mistake. I don't care if you see yourself as the best, you should be up and doing if you must retain this job."

As I turned to leave his office, it dawned on me that I might have signed a death warrant by agreeing to the terms of the confidentiality agreement. What trouble had I willingly fallen into?

As I finally left his office, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. I wasn't sure of how long I would last, I was new to this type of working condition, and I doubt I would last more than a day. If I decide to stay despite everything because of my brother, will it cost me my future? Can I keep up for long with the unrelenting standards of a disabled man, or will the bitter truth behind his fire become my undoing?