The Startling Green Eyes

"Miss Vane?"

The deep, authoritative voice pulls me from my thoughts. I blink, refocusing my attention on the older man sitting across the polished mahogany desk. Arthur Voss stares back at me, his hands steepled, patiently waiting for a response to his question.

I take a second to study him. For a man in his late fifties or early sixties, he is striking. His hair is a thick mix of grey and darker, distinguished streaks, brushed back with effortless style. A neat, greying shadow of stubble frames his strong jawline. But it’s his eyes that hold my attention—a startling, vivid shade of green, cool and commanding. He is the undeniable definition of a silver fox.

I shift in the plush leather chair, crossing my legs at the ankle and straightening my spine. Posture is everything. I need him to see a woman who is polished, capable, and ready to handle whatever the CEO of a world-renowned architectural firm throws her way.

"I believe my greatest quality is that I am headstrong," I say, keeping my voice level and my gaze locked directly onto his. "Some people might view that as a flaw. They might call it stubbornness. But in a professional setting, it means I never give up. No matter how difficult or complex the task at hand might be, once I set my mind to a goal, I refuse to stop until I achieve it."

Silence stretches between us. The grandfather clock in the corner of his sprawling office ticks softly.

Mr. Voss nods slow and measured, holding my stare for another long beat. Then, he leans forward. The corner of his mouth twitches upward.

"I like that answer," he says, his voice losing a fraction of its corporate edge. He leans back into his imposing chair and drops his silver fountain pen onto the desk with a soft clatter. "All day, I have listened to candidates tell me they are confident, ambitious, and trustworthy. It gets repetitive." He pauses, studying my face. "I like you, Miss Vane. Are you able to start Monday?"

My heart slams against my ribs. I press my lips together to physically stop myself from letting out an un-professional squeal of delight.

*Keep it together, Maya. You can freak out the second you hit the pavement outside.*

I offer him a calm, polite smile. "Yes, sir. I am available."

"Excellent." Mr. Voss stands, his tailored suit hanging perfectly from his broad frame. He extends a hand across the desk. "Come in on Monday morning at nine o'clock sharp. Paige at the front desk will show you around, get you set up on the system, and hand over your security pass."

I rise immediately, taking his hand and giving it a firm squeeze. "Thank you so much. I truly appreciate this opportunity, Mr. Voss."

I grab my structured leather handbag from the floor. He walks around his desk, escorting me toward the heavy glass doors of his suite.

"Welcome to the team, Miss Vane."

"Thank you," I reply, smiling up at him one last time before stepping out into the bustling corridor of Voss Architectural Firm.

The second the elevator doors close behind me, sealing me inside the mirrored box, I let out a massive, shaky breath. My shoulders drop. The crushing weight that has lived on my chest for months finally begins to dissolve.

I got the job.

I am going to be working for one of the most prestigious architectural firms on the planet. Yes, the role is executive assistant to the CEO, not a junior architect. I will be managing schedules, answering calls, and organizing files. But it is a foot in the door. I will work relentlessly. I will absorb every piece of knowledge Arthur Voss has to offer. I will save enough money to finish my university degree, and one day, I will prove to this company that I have the raw talent and skill to sit at a drafting table.

The fresh London air hits my face as I push through the revolving glass doors on the ground floor. After a brutal, unrelenting string of bad months, my luck is finally turning.

Having to drop out of university was one of the hardest decisions of my life. But the tuition fees became impossible to manage, and my family needed me. I had no choice but to put my own dreams on hold. Eleven years ago, just days after my sixteenth birthday, a drunk driver ran a red light and took my father away from us. In a single night, my childhood ended, and I became the anchor for my family.

My older brother, Dane, tries his best. He really does. But his severe ADHD and unpredictable anger management issues make traditional employment a nightmare for him. He struggles to concentrate, gets frustrated, and inevitably clashes with management. He has never held a job for more than two or three months.

And my mother... losing my father broke her in a way she never recovered from. He was her entire world. The grief morphed into severe agoraphobia. She has not stepped foot outside our front door since the day of his funeral. She is terrified of the outside world, paralyzed by the fear that it will steal someone else she loves.

So, the financial burden falls heavily on me.

But today, walking toward the underground station with a signed contract waiting for me on Monday, I feel a spark of genuine hope. Life is about to get a little easier.

Forty minutes later, I am practically flying up the staircase of the brick apartment building I share with my two best friends, Tess Delaney and Gia Gallagher. They are my chosen family, my anchors in the chaos of my twenties.

I slide my key into the lock, but before I can even turn it, the door is yanked inward.

Tess and Gia stand in the entryway, looking like matching chaotic twins. Both are sporting oversized, faded university sweatshirts, their hair twisted into messy knots on top of their heads. Gia is holding a bowl of Lucky Charms. They stare at me with wide, unblinking eyes.

"Well?" they demand in unison.

I blink innocently, looking between them. "What?"

I know exactly what they want. My phone has been vibrating non-stop since I left the firm—fifteen missed calls and at least fifty frantic texts between the two of them demanding updates.

Gia swallows a mouthful of colorful marshmallows. "Bitch, how did the interview go? Don't play dumb."

"It went well," I reply casually, attempting to push past them into the hallway.

They both shift, forming a human barricade.

"More..." Tess drawls, narrowing her honey-colored eyes at me. She studies my face, searching for a tell.

I let out a heavy sigh and slump my shoulders, doing my best to look defeated. "Well, he seemed interested. But there were so many other applicants in the waiting room. People with actual corporate experience and finished degrees. So..."

I watch the hope drain from their faces. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to burst into laughter.

"Oh." Tess softens instantly. She reaches out, wrapping a comforting arm around my shoulders and pulling me inside. "Well, it’s their loss. You are amazing, Maya. They don't know what they’re missing."

"Yeah," Gia adds, setting her cereal bowl down on the console table. "Something better will come up. I know it."

I let Tess guide me into the living room. Our apartment is cozy, situated conveniently close to the heart of London. It has three decent-sized bedrooms, an open-plan lounge, a small but functional kitchen, and a bathroom with a massive walk-in shower. It isn't a luxury penthouse, but it feels like home. If I had failed today, I would have been forced to pack my bags, give up my room, and move back to the suburbs to care for my mother and brother. My parents raised me in a strict household, valuing tradition, respect, and duty above all else, and I take those values to heart when it comes to supporting my family.

"Yeah," I say, keeping my voice somber as I shrug off my coat. "I guess you won't have to find another tenant to take over my room after all."

"Don't talk like that, we would never—wait." Gia freezes. She whips her head around to look at me, her mouth dropping open. "Did you just say we won't have to?"

I can't hold it in anymore. A massive grin breaks across my face.

Their eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"You got it," Tess whispers. Then her volume skyrockets. "You got—YOU GOT THE JOB?!"

I nod.

They both unleash ear-piercing screams. Before I can brace myself, they launch forward, tackling me. We all tumble onto the fabric sofa in a tangled heap of limbs, shrieking and laughing.

"I got the job! You are stuck with me, bitches!" I yell.

Tess and Gia immediately start poking my sides, digging their fingers into my ribs until I am thrashing on the cushions, crying tears of pure joy.

Tess finally scrambles to her feet, breathless. "We are going out tonight to celebrate. I don't want to hear a single excuse about being tired. We are going out!"

She turns and sprints down the corridor toward her bedroom, her thick socks sliding against the smooth wooden floorboards. Gia scrambles up and chases after her.

I stay lying on the sofa for a minute, staring up at the plain white ceiling. The constant, gnawing knot of anxiety that has lived in my stomach for months is gone.

"Maya, get your juicy arse off that sofa!" Tess yells from down the hall. "We are going to get smashed!"

Laughing, I push myself up. Just as I step into the corridor, Gia emerges from her room, a towel thrown over her shoulder. We lock eyes. We both slowly turn our heads to look at the closed bathroom door.

The unspoken war begins.

We sprint. I drop my shoulder and check Gia out of the way with my hip, sending her stumbling into the wall just as I grab the handle, slide into the bathroom, and slam the door shut. I click the lock into place.

"Every fucking time!" Gia curses loudly from the other side, banging her fist against the wood.

"I have longer legs than you, Gi!" I tease, reaching back to unbutton my blouse.

"Yes, and I hate you for it! Hurry up in there! And don't forget to shave your hooch. You never know what the night might bring."

I roll my eyes, turning on the shower tap and testing the temperature. "It’s about time you dust off those cobwebs and get some action, girl!" she cackles through the door.

"You know damn well my hooch is waxed clean!" I yell back, grabbing an empty plastic shampoo bottle and hurling it at the door to emphasize my point. "And I am quite content with my cobwebs, thank you very much! Now get lost and let me shower in peace!"

Many hours, multiple outfit changes, and a few empty bottles of sweet prosecco later, we stumble out of a cab and into a popular central London bar called Velvet.

The girls refused to let me wear my usual safe outfits. Instead, they forced me into a curve-hugging red mini dress that leaves little to the imagination. The bold color stands out against my skin, and the fabric clings to my hips and waist. I left my long dark hair down, styling it into loose, voluminous curls that fall over my shoulders.

Tess and Gia look equally incredible. Gia chose a silver sequin dress that perfectly highlights her natural curves, while Tess is poured into a strapless white bodycon dress.

Velvet is packed to the rafters. The atmosphere is thick, heavy with the scent of expensive cologne and spilled alcohol. The music is playing at a deafening volume, and the heavy bass from the speakers vibrates through the floorboards, traveling straight up my legs and thrumming in my chest.

We push our way through the dense crowd of bodies and manage to secure a spot near the glowing neon bar.

"Tequila!" Tess shouts over the music.

The bartender lines up the shot glasses. We clink them together, throw our heads back, and swallow the burning liquid. Then we order another round. And another. That is quickly followed by four rounds of icy, passionfruit-flavored pornstar martinis. Tess is a woman of her word; she is making sure we get smashed tonight to celebrate my new corporate life.

By midnight, my head is swimming in a pleasant, hazy buzz. The stress of the past year feels like a distant memory.

I am swaying on the edge of the dance floor with Tess, letting the rhythm guide my hips, when I feel a strange prickle on the back of my neck. That undeniable sensation of being watched.

I turn my head, scanning the dimly lit room, and my gaze stops dead.

In the elevated VIP section across the room, sitting on a curved leather booth, is a man.

He has a pair of the most vivid, piercing green eyes I have ever seen, and they are locked dead onto me.

My breath catches in my throat. He is the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on in my life. He exudes a dark, magnetic energy. He holds a short glass filled with amber liquid, bringing it slowly to his lips while maintaining intense, unbroken eye contact with me.

He and his friends are surrounded by a swarm of eager women, vying for their attention. A tall, leggy blonde shifts closer to him. She leans over, pressing her chest against his arm, and whispers something into his ear.

His eyes narrow slightly at whatever she says, but his gaze never wavers. He doesn't look at her. He just keeps staring at me.

The intensity of his focus is overwhelming. My skin flushes, a sudden heat rushing straight to my core. The air between us feels thick and charged, cutting through the chaos of the crowded club.

Unable to handle the heavy tension for another second, I force myself to break the connection. I tear my eyes away, spinning around to face Tess and throwing myself back into the music, dancing harder to shake off the strange sensation.

A few minutes later, Gia pushes through the crowd holding three small shot glasses filled with bright green liquid.

"Green apple sours!" she yells over the bass. "Drink up, bitch!"

We grab the sticky glasses, clink them together, and toss them back. I wince, squeezing my eyes shut as the sour, syrupy alcohol burns a trail down my throat and settles heavily in my stomach.

The opening beats of 'Despacito' start thundering through the massive overhead speakers. The crowd cheers, the bodies around us pressing closer together to find space to move.

Tess leans in close, shouting a ridiculous joke directly into my ear. I burst out laughing, throwing my head back and taking a blind step backward to give myself some breathing room.

My back suddenly collides with something solid.

It isn't a wall or a barstool. It is a broad, remarkably firm, and radiating warm chest.

I freeze.

Tess stops laughing. Her honey-colored eyes go impossibly wide as her gaze flicks to whoever is standing directly behind me. The color drains slightly from her cheeks. She presses her lips together into a tight, strained smile, raises her hands in a slow, awkward surrender, and takes a deliberate step backward, melting into the crowd.

I stay glued to the spot, shooting her a deeply wary look, my heart hammering against my ribs.