As I walked into the building with my head high, I nodded to myself. Yep. Declan Dark’s “friend” had been full of gratitude but Declan himself only seemed to ask me back in as a favor to her.
He’d probably have me stuffing envelopes in some room on a lower floor to keep me happy and keep me out of the way.
I’d convinced myself of that when I stepped up to the security desk. I didn’t have to fake the nervous smile I gave to the guard—the same one from yesterday.
“I have an interview,” I told him, smile faltering when he arched an eyebrow at me. He remembered me. Wasn’t that sweet? “My name is Samantha Thompson.”
The guard straightened and nodded immediately. “Of course.” He whipped a badge off the desk and passed it over.
I blinked when I saw my name on it. “Uh… Which floor?”
This time he looked confused. “Forty-two.”
My stomach dropped. No, that wasn’t right. I was supposed to be in the basement making coffee for someone not going to the top floor where Declan Dark worked.
“Thanks,” I managed before turning to the elevators.
I missed Xander’s voice in my ear. I felt more confident when he could fill in the blanks for me. But he’d had a meeting today, which he’d promptly informed me of while eating a bowl of chocolate cereal. I have to adult today, he reminded me. I’d informed him that chocolate balls for breakfast was a new low for any adult and then we’d gotten into a discussion about grapefruit which, while it had calmed me down some, hadn’t been overly productive.
I was arguing about grapefruit, which was a clear sign I was at least halfway to being an adult. I also had an interview at one of the city’s most prestigious companies.
If that didn’t say adult, I wasn’t sure what did.
The ride to the top floor was long enough to make me start to freak out again. What the hell was I doing here?
Trying to get information from a multi-billionaire? Or was he a trillionaire? I pictured Declan walking into a secret vault in his house and eyeing the stacks of money on shelves.
“Is it all in order?” his butler asks him.
Declan’s gaze narrows on a corner shelf, his strong jaw shifting. He points to an empty spot. “Looks like we’re missing a couple hundred million.”
I rolled my eyes and tried to focus. Fantasizing about Declan’s billions—or trillions— wasn’t going to get me through this interview. I felt for the small camera under the rail behind me, grateful to still find it right where I put it.
I hoped Xander was watching from home while he sat through his boring adult meeting. It gave me some comfort.
When the elevator dinged, I lifted my chin and stepped out, heading straight for the desk. The same woman from yesterday was there, wearing an earpiece for phone calls and making me regret looking like a librarian.
She was stunning and I was…doing a bad job faking it.
“Samantha Thompson?” she asked before I could say anything.
I smiled and nodded. “I’m a few minutes early. I could just wait or—”
“Go ahead and go on in.”
“Go…in?” I eyed the door behind her, clearly the entrance to Declan’s office. His name was carved with bold letters into a nameplate by the door.
It didn’t even have his title. Not CEO or owner or…billionaire mystery man. Nothing but his name in block letters. Declan Dark.
Now, that was how you were supposed to adult.
“Thanks,” I told the woman.
When I pushed open the door, the first thing I saw was windows. Just windows. A tall, wide bank of clear glass that stretched the length of the spacious room and offered a view straight to the mountains.
I froze there, enamored and surprised. This was adulting. Billionaire adulting, sure, but adulting nonetheless.
Suddenly, I felt naked. Like I’d been exposed somehow. I was standing here, completely out of my element, when I wanted to be out there, on those mountains.
Hiking, exploring, recording.
My dad and I shared a love of biology—but he was interested in people, the human body, and I was interested in plants and earth. The moon and stars. Basically anything but the human body.
The world we lived in.
“You can close the door,” a deep voice said.
I jumped and then automatically obeyed the command before turning back to the room and trying to focus. It vaguely resembled an office—in the sense that it had a desk.
The rest was luxury. There was a long, wide table I assumed was used for meetings but looked more like a cozy table for friends to dine at, a set of couches and chairs, even a fireplace.
I could live here.
My gaze moved to the opposite side of the room and then locked on the figure there.
Declan Dark.
He stood in front of a door to another room—one I assumed had to be a washroom because of the towel in his hands. He ran it along his jaw as though he’d just shaved, and the top buttons of his dress shirt were opened enough to make my mouth water.
His eyes, usually as sharp as diamonds, were looking amused, as were his lips. They quirked at the corners, softening the severe no-nonsense look I often saw in pictures of him.
It made him look young and carefree—close to my age like he was.
“Miss Thompson,” he said with a nod.
“I—I thought I was here for an interview.”
He checked his watch. “You’re early.”
My cheeks flushed. “I figured you were the kind of person that didn’t tolerate tardiness.”
Another quirk of his lips. “You figured correctly. Have a seat. I’ll be out in a minute.”
He gestured to the chairs by the fireplace, surprising me. I’d also figured we’d
