Aria Maxwell smoothed her pencil skirt for the fifth time in as many minutes, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced the crisp edge of the fabric. The Hale Industries lobby stretched around her like a cathedral of glass and steel—cold, precise, and undeniably intimidating. Just like the man she was about to meet.
"Mr. Hale will see you now."
The receptionist's voice cut through Aria's nervous thoughts, her perfect red lips curving into what might have been a sympathetic smile. Or perhaps it was pity. Everyone knew Nathan Hale devoured job candidates for breakfast.
"Thank you," Aria managed, gathering her portfolio and rising from the leather chair that had felt increasingly like a hot seat with each passing minute.
The elevator ride to the thirty-fifth floor was silent except for the soft hum of machinery. Aria used the time to rehearse her qualifications one more time. MBA from Columbia. Three years at Parker & Associates. Glowing references that had taken months of overtime and weekend work to earn. This job would change everything—the salary alone would help her pay off her student loans and finally move out of her cramped studio apartment.
When the doors slid open, a sleek hallway of dark wood and muted lighting greeted her. The entire floor carried an atmosphere of hushed efficiency, with employees moving purposefully at their desks, speaking in low tones. No one looked up as she passed. No one seemed to breathe too loudly.
"Ms. Maxwell?" A woman with a severe bun and sharply tailored blazer appeared at her side. "This way, please."
She followed the woman, Nathan Hale's executive assistant, according to the email, to a set of imposing double doors at the end of the hall.
"You have precisely thirty minutes," the assistant informed her. "Mr. Hale values punctuality above all else."
The doors swung open, and Aria stepped into the lion's den.
Nathan Hale stood with his back to her, a silhouette against floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the Manhattan skyline like a personal backdrop. Even from behind, power radiated from him, from the perfect cut of his charcoal suit to the way he held himself, spine straight as a steel rod.
"Mr. Hale," his assistant announced, "Aria Maxwell for the Marketing Strategist position."
He turned, and Aria's breath caught. The financial magazines had done him no justice. Nathan Hale wasn't merely handsome, he was carved from marble, all sharp angles and cold perfection. Dark hair styled without a strand out of place. Eyes so intensely blue they seemed to calculate her worth with a single glance.
"Sit."
One word. No greeting, no pleasantries. Just a command that Aria found herself obeying before she could think. She perched on the edge of the chair across from his massive desk, clutching her portfolio like a shield.
"Your resume indicates you have experience with the Parker campaign last year," he said, his voice as crisp as his appearance. He hadn't bothered to look at her resume again; he'd memorized it. "Walk me through your contribution."
Aria launched into her prepared spiel, detailing how she'd helped increase Parker's market share by fifteen percent. As she spoke, Nathan Hale watched her with a gaze that never wavered, never softened. He didn't nod. Didn't smile. Just observed her like a scientist might study a specimen.
"And the Millbrook account?" he asked when she finished. "Your strategy was conventional at best."
Aria felt her cheeks heat. "Conventional strategies sometimes work best for conventional clients. Millbrook wanted safe. I gave them safe, and their conversions increased by twenty-three percent."
Something flickered in his eyes, surprise, perhaps, that she'd pushed back. But it vanished so quickly she might have imagined it.
"Hale Industries doesn't do safe," he stated, leaning forward slightly. "We take calculated risks. We innovate. We lead."
"With respect, Mr. Hale," Aria heard herself say, "sometimes the most innovative approach is knowing when tradition serves the client better than disruption."
The silence that followed felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. Had she just talked herself out of the job? The man across from her was famously intolerant of being challenged.
"Very well." He tapped his desk once. "The position requires late hours. Weekends. Total commitment. Your personal life will become secondary. Are you prepared for that?"
"I am."
"Why should I hire you over the dozen other qualified candidates I've interviewed this week?"
Aria took a deep breath. "Because I understand balance, Mr. Hale. When to push boundaries and when to respect them. When to speak and when to listen." She met his gaze directly. "And because I'm not afraid of hard work or high expectations, yours or my own."
Something shifted in his expression, not a smile, not approval, but assessment. He studied her for another uncomfortably long moment before standing abruptly.
"My assistant will contact you with our decision by the end of the day." He extended his hand, and Aria rose to shake it.
His touch was brief and professional
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Hale," she said, withdrawing her hand and gathering her things.
"Ms. Maxwell." He was already turning back to his windows, dismissing her from his world of power and privilege.
Aria was halfway to the door when his voice stopped her.
"One question." He didn't turn around. "Do you believe in second chances, Ms. Maxwell?"
The question was so unexpected, so at odds with everything she'd heard about the ruthless CEO, that Aria paused.
"I believe we all deserve at least one," she answered carefully. "Why do you ask?"
He turned just enough for her to see his profile, sharp jaw, straight nose. "No reason at all. Good day."
-
Five hours later, Aria's phone rang as she was stress-eating leftover Thai food in her apartment.
"Ms. Maxwell? This is Katherine Winters, Mr. Hale's executive assistant. I'm pleased to inform you that you've been selected for the Marketing Strategist position."
Aria nearly choked on her pad thai. "I—really? That's wonderful!"
"Mr. Hale expects you to start tomorrow morning. Eight AM sharp. Do not be late."
The call ended before Aria could properly express her gratitude. She stared at her phone in disbelief, then let out a scream of excitement that probably annoyed her neighbors.
She had done it. She had landed a job at one of the most prestigious companies in New York, working directly under Nathan Hale himself.
Little did she know that the Nathan Hale she'd met today was only half the man she would come to know.