Bound to the calloway's heir

na C

beards, and his nose, pointy and perfect for his squared face, but it was his eyes that stopped me in my tracks. And definitely not the type to miss a thing. I couldn't afford to be timid. God help me! "You're late." His voice has an edge to it, a warning I wasn't sure I wanted to test. My heartbeat began to race. I lifted my chin, ignoring the urge to wrap my arm around my chest to calm my heart. I darted my eyes as I spoke, looking between the gold-plated digital clock on his desk and his face. "Your assistant scheduled my interview for noon. It is noon." He had one dark brow lifted, his eyes watching me intently. "I expected you earlier." I forced my shoulders back. "Then you should have scheduled it earlier." Where had the confidence come from? I winced, clutching my bag to hide my nervousness away from his prying eyes. I saw a flicker of something on his face, and then it was gone immediately, replaced with a Stoic expression. "Sit." He grunted at me as he gestured a finger to the chair across from his desk. He clearly loved to be in control and be obeyed. I was not about to test his patience, knowing how much getting the job meant to me. I forced myself to move from the spot, to ignore the way his presence made the air in the room feel heavier. It wasn't working. Zane Calloway was everything the press said, and even more. He could undress any woman just by staring and, from the look at the state of my body, I knew my butt would be naked if he asked for it. His voice echoed through my body, tugging at spots I didn't even know existed inside me. Why does this man get to have this much pull over me in a few minutes? Then, I did the little trick I had learned years ago. I mentally assured myself that I had faced men like him before. Men who thought they owned the world. Zane Calloway was just another one. Except... he wasn't. I moved carefully, sinking into the chair to steady my weak legs. He didn't speak right away. Instead, he stood rooted to the spot he had been since I stepped in, watching me. The silence stretched until it was unbearable, yet I refused to succumb to my fear of him...nor to the growing moisture between my legs. Finally, he walked to his desk, lowering himself into the seat across from me with the kind of deliberate ease that made it clear he owned every inch of this place. I sighed, sucking in enough air to brace myself for the conversation that would determine my fate in Atlas Group. He didn't reach for my résumé, he didn't even glance at the portfolio marked with applicants in front of him. He just studied me. Say something, Zane Calloway, say something. I crossed my legs at the ankle, tucking my palm between my thighs as I waited for the man to speak. Then he placed a hand on his cheek, tilting his head to the side, "Tell me, Ms. Carter. Why do you want this job?" The trap question His tone suggested he was not merely asking a question, it didn't even sound like a question. He was baiting me intentionally. I knew better than to answer with the truth. I could tell him I needed a fresh start and that I was drowning under bills. That I had spent years running from a past, I barely survived. Instead, I smiled softly at him. He didn't smile back. "I'm good at what I do. And I think you're a man who only hires the best," I replied. "You think you can handle working here." He sneered, challenging me with that sentence. I tilted my head. "That depends. Are you as impossible to work for as they say?" His lips curled slightly as if he almost appreciated the answer. Almost. "I don't like liars. They repulse me," he said casually. The words sent a chill down my spine. Who was I fooling? He knows Instead of breaking, I kept my expression neutral, my hands steady in my lap. "That's convenient. Neither do I." A beat of silence passed between us and for a second I almost said something to distract the awkwardness. Then his eyes darkened, a slow, deliberate shift that sent a warning through my blood. He flipped the button on his laptop and nodded, staring at the screen. It didn't take me a second longer to realize what he was looking at. "You claimed to have worked with Baxters for three years," he said. It was a statement, not a question. But I knew what he was looking for. The gap in my records. The trail didn't quite add up. I kept my expression neutral. "That's correct." His piercing gaze pinned me to my seat. "Yet, they have no record of you. HR couldn't get any recommendation from them and all the others you claim to have worked with." My blood dried up instantly, yet I didn't flinch. Didn't break eye contact. "I left on bad terms," I said. "Not every job ends with a glowing recommendation. It is as if no one had heard of Sienna Carter ever." His stare sharpened, for a second, just one I swore he could see straight through me. Through my forged credentials. Through the carefully constructed past. Through the lies I needed to tell in order for me to keep breathing. I met his gaze, willing my heartbeat to slow. "I can get good references if that's what you're asking, but try me, I am good at my job." "I see," he said. He was deliberately pushing me and I couldn't afford to break. Because if Zane Calloway saw a single crack, he would tear me apart. Then, just as suddenly as it came, he let it go. He reached into his desk, pulling out a wad of papers