Very Gorgeous Man

Sienna

The harsh, unrelenting screech of my morning alarm dragged me from a restless, fractured sleep. I groaned into my pillow, my hand blindly slapping at the wooden surface of the nightstand until my palm found the glowing screen, silencing the abrasive noise. Every single muscle in my exhausted body protested as I forced my legs over the edge of the mattress. I needed this. I had to push through the lingering fatigue. Mustering every lingering ounce of energy I had left in my system, I dragged myself into the tiny bathroom and stood under the stinging spray of the shower. I let the cold water shock my senses awake, aggressively washing away the exhaustion, preparing myself mentally for what was undoubtedly the most important job interview of my entire life.

I had meticulously planned every single second of my morning routine, leaving zero room for error. Punctuality wasn't just a good habit for me; it was an absolute survival tactic. I navigated the morning traffic and arrived at the towering, pristine headquarters of the Dangote Group of Industries well before eight-thirty, despite my interview schedule being strictly set for nine o'clock. I wanted to sit in the immaculate lobby, acclimate to the intimidating corporate environment, and practically vibrate with an eager desperation to prove my worth to the people who ran this empire.

But as the large, modern clock mounted on the pristine white wall mercilessly ticked past nine-thirty, the calm patience I had so carefully forced upon myself began to aggressively fray at the edges. My knee bounced in a rapid, uncontrollable rhythm. My fingers tapped a frantic beat against the worn leather strap of my purse.

Securing this specific opportunity had been a lifelong, defining dream of mine. It wasn't just a stepping stone; it was the ultimate destination. Ever since I was twelve years old, I had deeply idolized the visionary brothers Kaelen and Derrick Voss. They were the brilliant masterminds who built this massive corporate empire from the ground up right out of college. I had read every business article, studied every ruthless market move they made. Driven by this obsession, I relentlessly fast-tracked my entire education, pushing my mind and body to the absolute brink to earn my bachelor's degrees and a master's, all secured through full academic scholarships.

Yet, despite the prestigious degrees framing the cracked wall of my tiny apartment, the real world had been brutal. For the agonizing last ten months, I had been completely broke. I spent my days slaving away at a struggling local coffee shop, desperately trying to use my advanced business acumen to keep their doors open while barely scraping together enough cash to put gas in my rusty car and pay the minimums on my crushing student loans. I was inches away from total homelessness, skipping meals just to make sure I had a roof over my head.

Just as I was on the absolute verge of losing all hope, Dangote finally called me in. Three months after submitting my application into what felt like a void, I was handed a lifeline.

By ten o'clock, my frustration reached a boiling point. The expansive lobby, stark white with intimidating light blue and silver accents, felt like a suffocating pressure cooker. I let out a heavy, ragged breath, my eyes darting aggressively to the receptionist sitting across the sprawling room. The petite blonde girl had been offering me sympathetic, pitying smiles for the last hour. I didn't want her pity. I wanted someone to do their damn job and call my interviewer.

I stood up, fully prepared to march over to her desk and firmly confront her. I opened my mouth, a polite but demanding sentence already formed on my tongue.

But just as I took a deep breath, the polished elevator on the right side of the security desk pinged sharply.

The metallic doors slid open with a soft hiss, and the breath I had just taken completely vanished from my lungs.

A devastatingly gorgeous man stepped out of the elevator car and into the lobby. The very air in the room seemed to instantly shift, tethering itself to his commanding presence. He moved with the effortless, powerful grace of a high-fashion runway model, every step deliberate and smooth. He was impeccably dressed in a crisp, dark brown tailored suit that clung perfectly to his broad, muscular shoulders and tapered down to a lean waist. Expensive gold cuffs glinted at his wrists, catching the stark overhead lighting. He had thick, impeccably styled dark hair and striking, piercing ocean-blue eyes.

And those beautiful eyes immediately locked onto mine.

They completely captivated me, freezing me in place where I stood. The angry confrontation I had planned died instantly in my throat.

He closed the distance between us, his long legs eating up the polished floor until he towered over me. "Miss, Vance?" he asked.

His deep, resonant voice washed over me, carrying a distinct, incredibly attractive accent that sent a sudden, involuntary shiver racing down my spine.

He extended a large, tanned hand toward me. I blinked, desperately trying to jumpstart my frozen brain, and reached out to accept the gesture.

"Hello," I replied softly.

The exact moment our skin made contact, an electric jolt shot straight up my arm. My voice was barely steady. His grip was firm, radiating a comforting warmth, and it lingered for just a fraction of a second too long. I finally slid my hand away from his, my palm tingling from the brief friction of his skin against mine. He stared down at me, his blue eyes holding an intensity that made my heart hammer violently against my ribs, stealing the breath right out of my lungs.

"I am Evander Thorne, one of the partners here," he introduced himself. The corners of his lips turned upward, flashing a soft, devastating smile that revealed deep twin dimples on his cheeks.

A brief, sharp pang of disappointment hit my chest. I had secretly, desperately hoped to be interviewed by Kaelen Voss himself. I knew what Derrick looked like from the endless news coverage, but Kaelen was a mystery I had wanted to uncover today. But that fleeting disappointment quickly faded into the background as Evander continued speaking. With every word he spoke, his rich Greek accent became far more apparent, wrapping around his syllables like dark velvet.

"I am sorry for the delay," Evander said, his tone smooth but carrying a subtle hint of annoyance that clearly wasn't directed at me. "I was just told you were down here waiting. We were training some new assistant who apparently did not know how to relay a simple message."

I nodded mutely, my tongue feeling far too heavy to form a coherent response to his apology.

"Come with me, let's head to my office," he instructed smoothly, gesturing back toward the waiting elevator. "I am not a fan of big impersonal meeting rooms for one-on-one interviews."

As he fluidly turned his back toward the open elevator, I snapped out of my daze. I grabbed my bag and my folder of credentials, frantically using the brief moment to adjust my clothes. I had been sitting for nearly an hour and a half, and the last thing I wanted was to look rumpled and unprofessional.

I tugged sharply at the hem of my black crop jacket and smoothed the clean lines of my high-waisted pants. It was a beautiful, well-preserved vintage suit made of soft wool that had belonged to my late mother. It was my armor for today, a piece of her giving me strength. I quickly smoothed down the fabric of my thrifted white tank top beneath the jacket, making absolutely sure it was pulled down enough so my midriff wouldn't inappropriately show. I silently prayed that my loose, curly bun and the light application of makeup I had carefully done this morning made me look professional and sophisticated, rather than like a young, freckled, inexperienced girl playing dress-up in a corporate powerhouse.

Following closely behind his commanding strides, I found my eyes shamelessly glued to his broad back. I couldn't help it. I intensely admired his lean, highly athletic build beneath the expensive fabric of the suit. It fit him like a second skin, showcasing a physique that clearly spent hours lifting heavy weights in a gym. I mentally placed him at just over six feet tall, his legs long and incredibly powerful as he walked.

*He could fold me like a pretzel,* my mind supplied unhelpfully.

My breath violently hitched in my throat. I violently cursed myself for the entirely inappropriate, completely unprofessional thought. What the hell was wrong with me? I was here for a job, a life-changing position that would pull me out of poverty, and I was staring at a managing partner's body like a starved animal.

I quickened my pace to catch up, desperate to put out the sudden fire in my brain and regain my composure. The sharp clacking of my strappy silver heels echoed loudly across the pristine, polished marble floor of the expansive lobby. The sound felt deafening, practically broadcasting my hurried movements as the elevator doors remained open, waiting for us.

By the time I finally rushed into the open elevator car to stand beside him, my chest was heaving slightly from the sudden burst of nervous energy. I stood clutching my portfolio to my chest like a physical shield.

Evander slightly turned his head toward me. He looked down, taking in my flustered state, and with agonizing slowness, he deliberately raised a single, all-knowing eyebrow down at me.

Molten heat instantly rushed up my neck. It surged straight into my cheeks, burning my golden-brown skin with a fierce flush I knew was impossible to hide. My freckles probably stood out like beacons against the fiery red of my embarrassment. He knew. Somehow, just by looking at my panicked expression, he knew exactly what effect his physical presence was having on me.

The metallic doors of the elevator started to slide shut, sealing us inside the confined space. Just before they closed completely, locking us in, the corner of his perfect mouth slowly tipped up into a deeply subtle, knowing smirk.