Bonds of the Alpha Billionaire (Maya and Alex)

Chapter 16

-Maya's POV-

I sat on the plush chair, hating how distracted I felt knowing that Natalia must have put in a lot to get me this interview. My father's words echoed in my head, each syllable tumbling through my mind. He'd shoved the papers at me, anger burning in his eyes, and demanded I sign them. My mother followed him out, a silent apology in her eyes that did nothing to soothe the storm raging inside me. "Amaya Stone? Is Amaya Stone here?"

The voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I jumped to my feet, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. The other candidates watched me, probably judging me for not being focused. "Yeah, that's me," I mumbled, shoving the stray hair from my face.

The woman who called my name gave me a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She looked about my age, but carried herself with a confidence I envied. Her tailored black suit hugged her curves perfectly, her dark hair sleek and polished.

"No worries," she said kindly, her voice like honey. "Nerves got the best of everyone sometimes. Follow me, Ms. Stone."

I opened my mouth to correct her- it was Mrs. Stone technically, and McCall anyway - but the words wouldn't come out. We stopped in front of a heavy wooden door with a brass nameplate that read "Ms. Edwards." My guide took a deep breath, smoothing her already flawless outfit.

"Just a heads up," she murmured, her voice losing a bit of its earlier cheer. "Ms. Edwards can be a bit... direct. But she's fair, and she appreciates honesty."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "Direct?" 1 echoed, already picturing a stern woman in a power suit grilling me like a criminal.

She offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Just be yourself."

Taking another deep breath, I nodded, trying to muster some confidence. The woman gave the door a gentle knock, then pushed it open.

"Ms. Edwards," she announced, her voice back to its usual confident tone. "Amaya Stone is here for her interview."

A woman looked up from behind a massive mahogany desk. She was older than I expected, maybe in her late fifties, with silver streaked hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her eyes met mine, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"Thank you.

her voice a low tone that commanded

behind her. The knot in my stomach tightened, and the questions about my father swirled around my mind but I knew for now, I had to focus on this interview.

smile.

a hand. "It's

my hand for a beat before reaching out and giving

she said, her gaze still locked of mine. "Please,

down in the chair facing her desk. It didn't feel like just an interview anymore. It felt like a

"Interesting," she finally said, "Bold use of color, Ms. Stone, but not

Chapter 16

to push boundaries,” I stamntered, “to

raised an eyebrow, "And can you explain how that translates to happy clients? Not everyone wants the unexpected

blank. All the practiced answers, the slick comebacks I'd prepared- vanished, "Well,

perfectly polished nails tapping a rhythm against the desk. "Interior design isn't just about expressing yourself, Ms. Stone," she began, a hint of condescension in her voice. "It's about understanding

from me." Taking a deep. breath, I sat up straighter. "You're absolutely right, Ms. Edwards," I said, my voice surprisingly firm. "Understanding the client is key. But sometimes, a designer can

A flicker of something, maybe even interest, crossed her face. But

you for your time, Ms. Edwards," I said, extending my hand. "It's

grip surprisingly strong. Thank you, Ms. Stone,"

had shifted in the room. Maybe it was the way my voice gained strength,

imposing office building, I squinted against the sudden glare of the afternoon sun. Car horns blared, pedestrians hurried past in a blur of colors and faces, and the

the noise and commotion, the call from Ivan cut through