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.”

confidence. The woman gave the door

back to its usual confident tone. “Amaya Stone

expected, maybe in her late fifties, with silver streaked hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her eyes

“Thank you.

low tone that commanded attention. “Please, close the

the questions about my father swirled around my mind but I knew for now, I had to

smile.

I said, extending a

my hand

her gaze still locked

the chair facing 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 about

Ms. Edwards flipped through my portfolio. “Interesting,” she finally said, “Bold use of color, Ms. Stone, but not exactly.

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Chapter 16

like to push boundaries,” I stamntered,

how that translates to happy clients? Not everyone

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

desk. “Interior design isn’t just about expressing yourself, Ms. Stone,” she began, a hint of condescension in her voice. “It’s about understanding your client’s needs, their

everything 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 help them see

something, maybe even interest, crossed her face. But before

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

strong. Thank you, Ms. Stone,” she replied, her voice lacking its

mind swirled with emotions. The interview hadn’t gone as planned, but something had shifted in the room. Maybe it was the way my voice gained

afternoon sun. Car horns blared, pedestrians hurried