The HR receptionist, a brisk woman with a headset and a politely weary smile, scanned her list.
"Yes, Ms. Carter—please take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly."
Sophie murmured a thank you and turned toward the small waiting area: a row of low, modern chairs upholstered in gray, beside a coffee table stacked neatly with trade magazines. She sat down, carefully smoothing her skirt over her knees, portfolio balanced on her lap like a shield.
For a few moments, she forced herself to study the framed Ms. ion statement on the wall, each sleek serif letter blurring at the edges. But focus wouldn't come.
Instead, her mind flickered back to the elevator: the hush before the doors slid open, the scent of sandalwood mixed with the sterile tang of steel and glass, and—most distracting of all—the quiet force of him. His presence had felt almost gravitational, the kind that drew every stray thought into its orbit.
Get a grip, she told herself, pressing her lips together. You don't even know who he is. And you have bigger things to worry about than a stranger in a really expensive rumpled suit.
The glass wall beside the waiting area overlooked part of the executive hallway. Sophie couldn't help but glance up as the man from the elevator came back into view.
He moved with quiet, restrained purpose, tie still loosened, suit jacket open. The soft light from the corridor caught the faint sheen of sweat at his temple, hinting at the heat of the meeting he'd just left behind. The lawyers trailed after him, speaking low and fast, papers in hand.
For one second, it looked like he might glance her way—but his gaze passed right over her, distant and unfocused, brow furrowed as though already five steps ahead.
Of course he doesn't see you, she thought, a pang of something half-amused, half-disappointed twisting in her chest.
She ducked her head, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, willing her pulse to steady.
At that moment, a door clicked open. "Sophie Carter?"
Sophie stood quickly, knees momentarily unsteady. A tall woman in a navy dress and modest heels smiled at her, hand extended.
"Claire Evans, HR. Let's step into Conference Room B."
Sophie forced a polite, professional smile and followed, the man from the elevator slipping from view behind the frosted glass.
Inside the conference room, Claire gestured for her to sit across a clean oak table. "We'll just wait for Mr. Li to join us. He's the COO—you'll report to him if things go forward."
Sophie nodded, fingers tightening on her portfolio.
Focus on the interview, she reminded herself. Forget about the elevator encounter and the stranger who won't remember your face tomorrow.
Still, as she sat, the heat of that fleeting moment lingered—a stubborn ghost on her skin, impossible to fully shake.
Beyond the glass, Wolf Industries moved at its sleek, relentless pace: doors opening, voices murmuring, footsteps clicking on marble. Somewhere out there, the man who had told her to move continued on, entirely unaware of the spark he'd left behind in her chest.
But Sophie, despite everything, couldn't help but wonder: Who is he? And why did it feel like the air shifted when he walked by?
She took a slow breath, opening her portfolio, as the door opened again to admit Mr. Li. The real interview—the one that truly mattered—was just beginning.
Sophie sat up a little straighter as Mr. Grant Li stepped into the glass-walled conference room. He looked younger than she'd expected for a senior executive — about thirty-eight, with sharp, observant eyes and a lean build that suggested restless energy rather than boardroom stiffness. His dark hair was brushed back neatly, and there was an understated confidence in the way he carried himself.
"Ms. Carter," he greeted, voice warm but direct, as he offered his hand across the polished table. "Thank you for coming in. Let's get started."
Sophie's palm felt slightly damp, but she kept her grip firm, reminding herself to breathe.
Grant gestured toward the woman already seated beside him.
"This is Claire Evans, our HR Director."
Claire inclined her head, a polite, appraising look in her pale blue eyes. She was everything Sophie was not: tall and slender, with an elegant posture and an ash-blonde bob cut to perfect symmetry. Her tailored charcoal dress looked as if it had been chosen to match the room itself, and the silver watch on her wrist gleamed under the lights. Even seated, Claire radiated composed authority — cool, crisp, and slightly remote.
Sophie, in her soft blouse and navy skirt, felt suddenly conscious of the small crease at her hem and the wisp of hair that had slipped loose. Still, she forced herself to return the nod and offered a small, nervous smile.
Grant settled back into his chair, scanning the top of Sophie's résumé. "So, tell me a bit about your last role. What did your day-to-day actually look like?"
Sophie exhaled quietly. "At Bluebird Media, I was part of a three-person team overseeing brand responses to unexpected incidents and mostly managing calendars, arranging travel, and coordinating documents for two senior partners. But over time, I started drafting reports and prepping presentations. When they were traveling, I'd often step in to keep projects moving. Also last March, for instance, I led the drafting of client statements during a data breach, working closely with legal to ensure compliance…"
Grant's gaze sharpened, as if weighing the details. "You had to make judgment calls in their absence?"
"Yes," she said. "And occasionally smooth things over when meetings went off track."
Claire crossed one long leg over the other, pen resting against her notebook. "And why did you leave?"
The agency downsized after losing a major account. My role was unfortunately part of the cuts," Sophie explained, her voice dipping slightly. "My role was made redundant in the restructuring."
Grant nodded, as if this was something he heard far too often. "Understood." His tone stayed neutral, but Sophie sensed his attention deepen. "If you had to name your strongest skill that isn't on paper?"
"Anticipating what's needed before it's asked," Sophie said quickly. "And staying calm when things get… messy."
Claire made a faint, almost imperceptible note in her book. "And what would you say is your biggest weakness?"
"I sometimes try to do too much myself instead of asking for help," Sophie admitted, heat creeping into her cheeks. "But I've learned that good communication makes everything smoother."
At that, Claire's eyes softened a fraction, though her expression remained mostly unreadable.
A quiet moment followed, and Sophie's heart thudded uncomfortably in her chest. The room felt even larger than before, the glass walls reflecting her own nervous posture back at her.
Grant leaned forward slightly, fingers steepled. "This is a demanding position," he said, tone still measured but a shade more serious. "You'll be working closely with someone whose schedule can shift by the hour. Late nights aren't rare, and priorities change fast. Do you think that's something you could handle?"
"I know it won't be easy," Sophie replied, voice steady despite the flicker of nerves in her stomach. "But I think that's where I'm strongest — keeping calm and keeping things moving, even when everything changes."
Grant tilted his head, thoughtful. "Good," he said. "That's what we're looking for."
Claire added, "We're still meeting other candidates, so final decisions aren't made yet." Her voice was smooth as marble, offering neither hope nor disMs. al.
Sophie nodded, trying to read something — anything — in their faces, but both were practiced in polite neutrality.
Just then, a neatly dressed male assistant stepped in through the door without knocking and went around the table to murmur something to Grant, who rose with an apologetic nod. "Please wait here a moment, Ms. Carter," he said. "We may have someone else who'd like to meet you, depending on schedules."
Sophie's breath caught. Someone else? she wondered, heart drumming louder. But Grant offered no clue, and was already halfway out the door, Claire offering no words nor explanation following with her pen still in hand.
Left alone, Sophie glanced around the pristine room, her reflection caught and repeated in the glass.
She didn't know who this mysterious someone was — the one whose assistant she might become — but her mind kept drifting back to the elevator, to the powerful figure behind her whose voice had sent a ripple of nervous heat down her spine.