Bonds

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.”

some confidence. The woman gave the door a gentle knock, then pushed it

voice back to its usual confident tone. “Amaya

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

“Thank you.

Ms. Edwards said, her voice a low tone that commanded

stomach tightened, and the questions about my father swirled around my mind but I knew for now, I had to focus on this interview. I took a deep breath, trying

smile.

extending a hand.

Edwards didn’t offer a smile in return. Instead, she stared at my hand for a beat before reaching out and giving it a

gaze still locked of

her desk. It didn’t feel like just an interview anymore. It felt like a test, an interrogation. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for the questions that were

she finally said, “Bold use

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Chapter 16

to push boundaries,” I stamntered, “to create something

translates to happy clients? Not everyone wants the unexpected in their living room,

blank. All the practiced answers, the slick comebacks I’d prepared- vanished, “Well, …” I trailed

polished nails tapping a rhythm against the desk. “Interior design isn’t just about expressing yourself,

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 help them see beyond limitations, push them outside their comfort zones, create something truly unique. Something that

gaze narrowed, then softened a fraction. A flicker of something, maybe even interest, crossed her face. But before she could

Ms. Edwards,” I said, extending my hand. “It’s

my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. Thank you, Ms. Stone,” she replied,

it was the way my voice gained strength, the unexpected fire in my eyes. Maybe it was the connection I

of the 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