She moved quickly, realizing the interview had already begun. The sharp click of the Louboutin heels echoed against the marble floor as she walked toward the coffee machine. It was close to where he sat, and the moment she stepped into his proximity, his scent engulfed her—lemon, with undertones of musky cologne. He smelled rich. Expensive. Winter inhaled deeply, finding unexpected solace in the fragrance as she approached the machine.
She stared down at it, confusion clouding her thoughts. What was she supposed to press? Which button?
Panic rose in her throat. Barely five minutes into the interview and she had already failed.
The coffee machine was an unfamiliar model. She scanned the surface and realized it was the latest edition, manufactured just that year.
She picked a mug from the neat arrangement of cups beside the machine and placed it under the tap where the coffee was meant to come from.
As she hovered over the buttons, her fingers trembling, a hand stretched out from behind her and pressed one—the bottom-right. Immediately, a stream of rich brown liquid began to pour slowly into the cup.
Veins. Rings on the index and middle finger.
Her heart dropped. Was he married?
She swallowed hard and turned, a small gasp slipping past her lips when she realized just how close he stood. His face was mere inches from hers—close enough that her reflection glimmered in his icy blue eyes. His features were precise: an oval face, a straight, defined nose.
"You can't operate a coffee machine," he observed, voice smooth as silk.
Winter looked down, ashamed. Of course she was going to fail. It wasn't enough that she had dared to believe she could land the role of a data analyst at Riggs Corporation—now she was pretending she could be the secretary to the owner himself?
"Can you use the printer?"
She swallowed again. He was standing too close—close enough that if someone walked in at that moment, they might assume something intimate was happening between them.
She shook her head. What was the point of lying? She shouldn't have dared to think she could be anyone's secretary. It wasn't even her position to begin with—she was impersonating someone else. And still, she was failing at it. Shame pooled in her stomach and flooded her chest.
Mr. Riggs let out a quiet breath.
"Can you set up an organization meeting?"
She shook her head once more, a tear sliding silently down her cheek.
"So, what exactly can you do? Why did you apply for this job if you can't do these things?"
Without thinking, she dropped to her knees.
"I was foolish. This isn't my place. Miss Dorothy mistook me for someone else. Please—don't punish her. Punish me. I'll pay anything. You can sue me. Fine me. I don't know—just… just don't punish Miss Dorothy."
He said nothing. The silence grew heavy. The only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioner.
When Winter finally looked up, she saw his eyes weren't on her face—they were on her thigh.
That's when she realized the hem of her skirt had ridden up as she knelt. Her scar was now fully visible.
"How did you get that?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Winter swallowed hard, anxiously picking at her thumb. It was the same one she'd bitten earlier in the restroom, causing it to bleed. Now, under the pressure of the moment, her long nails tore at the fragile skin again, and fresh blood began to seep out.
"I'm—I'm sorry, I can't share that."
"Get up and leave."
She let out a sigh of relief, scrambled to her feet, and rushed to grab her CV.
She had known from the start that she could never truly apply for the role of Data Analyst. But somehow, she'd made it this far. Escaping the situation without a complete disaster felt like a small victory.
Mr. Riggs returned to his seat, coffee in hand, and took a measured sip as he studied a paper on his desk.
Winter stepped closer and gave a slight bow.
"I apologise for deceiving you once again. I hope you won't punish Miss Dorothy."
He gave no response—didn't even glance at her. He simply continued sipping his coffee, eyes still on the paper in front of him.
She made it out of his office, then through the double doors. Thankfully, Miss Dorothy was nowhere in sight. Quickly, Winter slipped out of the dress and back into her sweater and jeans, handing the dress and heels back to Grace.
"You didn't get the job?" Grace asked, a smirk playing on her lips.
Winter didn't acknowledge the question. She simply muttered a thank-you and was on her way.
When she stepped into the elevator, she ran into Finn again.
Just great.
He was holding a stack of papers and grinned when he saw her empty-handed—clearly, she hadn't gotten the job. This time, she didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction and simply pressed the button for the ground floor.
"Have you now seen what I mean, good-for-nothing?"
Winter remained silent.
"I really hope you stop trying, because you can't win if the universe hates you." That was the last thing he said before getting off the elevator.
And he was right.
Nothing was working for her.
It was now as clear as crystal—the heavens, the universe... they all hated her.
She stepped out of the elevator and exited the building. The winter breeze greeted her with a chill that crept under her skin. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and frowned at the message from Caden:
"I was just thinking about you and that round ass. I miss you, baby."
Her fingers moved on instinct—block.
It was the fourteenth time she'd blocked his number.
She suspected he always found a way to sneak into her phone and unblock himself.
That disgusting piece of dirt.
But that was her reality.
The moment she stepped out of Riggs Corporation, the universe had to remind her of exactly where she belonged.
She had barely made it past the building when a black SUV screeched to a halt beside her. She froze, heart pounding in her chest like a war drum.
The backseat's tinted window rolled down slowly.
She gasped.
Mr. Riggs sat inside, calm as ever.
He lifted a single finger and beckoned her forward. She hesitated only a second before stepping closer, leaning toward the car.
"Get in, angel. You're accompanying me to Italy," he whispered.