I twisted the knob of the door. The door clicked open as the distance between me and my intentions grew lesser.

I was set to face the monster himself.

"May I come in, Sir?"

He glanced up at me diverting his attention from his file of papers. His gaze halted. Alpheus Kenith Parker. This is the beginning of your disposition. I am going to ruin you.

From the way I saw him last time, two years back, his lines had deepened on his face. Google images did no justice to his face. It was a sin for a man like him to be irresistibly desirable. His bone structure was symmetrical, cheek bones high and prominent. His sultry green eyes were dark, deep and mysterious, so much like his father’s, and his soft, feather-like black hair brushed away from his brow. But his soul failed to shine through his skin.

He isn’t slumped at all, his body is clearly too muscular for that, yet it is just as relaxed as his face. He’s almost smiling-smiling as if something good were to happen.

"I said, come in," every word he said sounded beautiful but I felt no compassion or trust.

“Yeah, sorry," I said, looming out of my trance.

"Can I?" I implored, pulling the plush expensive seat out for myself.

His room was tasteful in a corporate way-nothing interesting enough to cause offence no matter what a person’s preferences might be. His cabin was every shade of grey, washed out to almost steel blue. Every line was straight, every corner sharp, screaming money.

"Sure,” his voice was that of any rich man’s, honeyed and proud.

So far so good.

"Do you look at every man like you want to fuck them?"

Talk about a sailing smooth through this.

"Well, even if I do, it's none of your business, Mr.Parker."

He didn't like it one bit. He cleared his throat and straightened his red tie that matched his perfectly tailored black suit.

He extended his hand gesturing for my file as I presented it to him. He began flipping through the pages. "Then we should get right down to what's my business."

"Certainly."

"Kaitlyn Black, is it?"

"Yes."

"So, you have graduated from the school of arts and science at NYU. You have excellent academic records, what did you resign from your previous job?"

"I didn't like it. It was too many numbers and papers for me to handle. It was becoming monotonous for me. I realized my interest didn't lie there. I wanted to try something different," I responded with the answer I have been working out in my head for two months, as though it were true.

He looked at me sceptically. He had to believe it. The NYU part was true though.

"Do I know you?" He asked dubiously like he was trying to recollect.

I knew this was coming. Though he hadn’t gotten a full impression of my face then, he had gotten a glimpse of me. I thought my blonde hair and my fake surname would do the job to remove the memory of that. I was going to shoot the answer I was equipped with.

"I was working with your competitors. You would have probably seen me then, or on the media, or at the same client's office, you never know." I did not want to give him a lucid answer. If I blatantly refused, it would get him suspicious. It was better this way.

Sean was working in the database management team of the competitors. I had to persuade Sean into putting my name on the competitor’s employee database, so that even if this Rich Mr.Parker does his research on me, there would be no loopholes. Talking Sean into this without letting him grasp the reason of why I would want such a thing was a task.

"Hmm, so Miss Black, with the way you look and with that body of yours, you know that it is hard for you to survive in this fashion industry, right?"

"Excuse me?" I was offended.

"That's the reality Miss Black. Nothing to take offence for."

"In that case Mr.Parker. Fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening, not with how my body is shaped by my creators."

"That's not the way it actually functions. It's not all sugary and sweet as you look at it. It's all just ditch and stink inside."

"I think that's the way you look at it. Everyone can have their opinions."

"What I am saying is the reality, not an opinion."

"If you can become the CEO for this big fashion outlet, then I guess I can manage to survive."

"What do you mean, Miss Black?"

"I can survive this place better than you think I can." I completed.

He raised his eyebrow, "tell me, you have no experience for this job role. You come from a finance background. Can you make my job easier and tell me why should I hire you as my secretary?"

Because you like money, I want money, more than that, a good revenge, and we should totally do this.

"You cannot expect me to represent your best interest to your clients, if I can't sit here now and represent mine."

"Do you think you are doing a good job at it?"

A fucking good one.

"I don't think you'd want to know my opinion. And moreover that's your job."

"You have been in my premises for over an hour now. What inputs do you have to improve it?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Most definitely, Miss Black."

"I think if I were the CEO, I'll change the receptionist. Because she doesn't know the P of politeness. She can drive away your potential employees, who are actually the resource to any company and-"

"Okay,"

"I am not done yet, Mr.Pareker."

"Go on."

"If I were the CEO of this company, I would stop throwing asshole attitude at my staff and treat them like people for who they are and where they come from." I finished. He was too much of an asshole to put up with.

"That's why you're not a CEO yet," he rebuked.

"I don't want to become one that way."

"We're done, you may leave." He closed the file and put it forward towards me.

I screwed this up big time.

I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away. I could have just pretended like there was nothing to improve in his company. I was so not getting this job.

I wended my way out miffed like the ten others. The next candidate went past me into his room.

"I'm done, thank you," I returned my interview tag to the assistant.

"You'll receive a call if you're selected," she said. Which I most definitely won't.

"Sure thing, thanks."

I trudged out of the premises for one last time.

Plodding with heavy steps to my afternoon shift at Cara’s, I dialled Sean's number on my phone.

"Let me guess, you got through!" I heard Sean's animated voice through the speakers of my phone.

"Quite the contrary," I sighed.

"Why, what happened?"

"Screwed it up."

"Did you not know the answers to the questions?"

"I did. But I basically told the CEO that he was an asshole. Do you still think I have a chance at this?"

"Nope. No odds."

"Yes."

"You still have many more opportunities."

Only if I could tell him.

“I reached Cara’s. Will meet you tonight, Sean.” I hung up.

I swung the door to the café and stepped in as the smell of Caffeine and cupcakes overpowered my nostrils.

"An hour early for your shift, Kat?" James queried from the bill counter.

"Yes, as hardworking as I could be.” I needed this job to at least pay my bills.

“You alright? You don’t seem good?”

“I’m fine, James. Thanks.”

James was the owner of the café. He treated us like equals. He was a nice man. He was a widower in his early fifties and lost his wife in an accident when she was pregnant with their child. He named this cafe after his wife. Neither did he want to get re-married nor is he dating. How can a man still be in love with a dead woman for twenty years? I always admired him for he was.

I passed into the changing room and switched to my uniform.

"Your first order," Martha handed me the order and slipped away from her shift.

I had no friends here. Everyone here, except James and Becca, was outright rude and not interested in making a conversation. Then I don’t care either.

“What’s up with Becca?” James inquired when I came to collect the first order.

“Why?”

“She called in.”

“And?”

“She left to her hometown last night. Her grand mom died.”

Impossible. She was at party last night. Why was she lying? Why did she call in?

“I’ll check on her.” I said.

“Fill up for her, Kat.”

Shift at Cara’s wasn’t the best. I was grumpy, fidgeting, and without Becca, it was feeding on me. I tramped through the dark empty block to my apartment, bearing my stilettos in my hand.

I had never fixed up a plan-b. I always believed that I'd get this job by any means possible. Now that I know that I wouldn't get this job, I needed to dish out another way to destroy Alpheus Kentih Parker.

I pressed the bell, waiting for Sean to open the door. The door flung open.

"Hey,” I said.

"You look miserable."

"Is it that evident?"

"Come here." He enfolded me in his arms. I would have been wretched if I never got back in touch with him. I always had many friends who used me for various reasons at school, but no one really stood for me when I needed them. He was the only one, my best friend since kindergarten. He was still standing beside me, holding me in his arms, comforting me.

"Thank you," I mumbled against his t-shirt. He smelt like chocolate.

He softly pressed a kiss on my forehead, "dig into the couch; I'll get you a coffee.”

I collapsed on the couch and caught the sight of an envelope lying on the side desk.

It was addressed to me. Who still sends me letters?

I opened it and ran my eyes through the letters printed on the paper.

"Kat!" I heard Sean.

"Uh?"

"What's that?"

"The man from last night."

"And?"

"A letter holding me a debtor of 1233 dollars."

"Shit!"

"What's his name?"

I looked high and low on the letter and spotted his name, "Sebastian Cruiz Parker."

A Plan-B?

Author's note:

How do you like Kaitlyn? Is she too feisty, likeable or completely detestable? What do you think her plan-B is going to be? What do you think she will do? I am really nervous about this story guys, I would love to know what you guys think. So, please don't hesitate to squeeze in your comments. Or you can dm me on my instagram. 

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