2
Christian
The day had already started off on the wrong foot. The head of the maintenance crew had the audacity to inform me—at the last damn minute—that my private elevator was out of order. Malfunctioning, apparently. A team was working on it, and they "apologized for the inconvenience."
Inconvenience? They had no idea.
Now, I had to take the regular elevator. The thought alone irritated me. That elevator was a breeding ground for unnecessary small talk, interruptions, and the absolute worst—proximity to people who had no business being in my space.
I strode toward it, my patience already hanging by a thread, when a tiny brunette practically ran into me.
She stumbled, her things spilling onto the marble floor. I barely moved, only shifting a step forward from the impact, but the sight of her—a mess, completely uncoordinated—only soured my mood further. Without a second glance, I stepped over her scattered belongings, almost crushing her foot in the process, and entered the elevator. I didn't acknowledge her apology. Not my problem.
Then I heard it.
"Asshole."
It was muttered under her breath, barely above a whisper, but I heard it loud and clear.
Interesting.
I kept my face impassive, but internally, I was amused. Who the hell was this girl with the audacity to insult me?
I leaned back against the elevator wall, shaking off the minor irritation as my mind shifted to more important matters. I needed to finalize a strategy to close the deal with Hawthorne Global before the end of the week. Their expertise in high-end architectural designs would expand our luxury real estate division significantly, enhancing our market position in a way that would make competitors scramble to catch up.
This was supposed to be easy. I was filling in as acting CEO since my father had stepped down due to his declining health. The role was mine. Or at least, it should have been.
Instead, my father had the nerve to insist that I "earn it." That I had to compete for the position with my so-called stepbrother, Damian.
It was bullshit.
I had spent years proving I was the best man for the job, handling the most critical deals, making the smartest business decisions. Yet, instead of giving me what was rightfully mine, my father had divided responsibilities. I was to take over the main branch in New York while Damian handled the other branches. As if we were equals. As if that snake was even remotely close to my level.
My jaw tightened, and I exhaled slowly, forcing the irritation down as I glanced at my phone. Another text from Oliver.
Oliver: Drinks tonight? Don't be a boring bastard. Third time asking, by the way.
I scoffed. The third time this morning.
Oliver had barely changed since we were kids. Despite running NovaVox Media, one of the largest entertainment conglomerates in the country, he still acted like a carefree idiot.
I ignored the message and finally lifted my gaze, catching my own reflection in the elevator's steel doors. But that wasn't all I saw.
Standing next to me was the brunette from earlier.
And I recognized her.
The moment my gaze settled on her reflection in the elevator doors, I knew.
Those eyes. I'd recognize them anywhere.
Well, well, well. Fate had a nasty way of dropping pawns right at my feet without me even trying. She wasn't a staff member—I knew every employee in this building. Which meant she had to be one of the interns.
I still didn't understand why my father insisted on allowing interns into RCH. They weren't needed. We had the best, the elite—yet he claimed it was for "publicity's sake." A ridiculous excuse.
I studied her through the reflection, taking in the mess of her dark brown hair, the way she clutched her scattered papers like they held the meaning of life. She was beautiful—I wouldn't deny that. But her attitude? That was another story.
And then there was her scent. Lavender and something softer, almost vanilla. It surrounded me, clung to the air, filling the small space. It irritated me even more for no logical reason. It was just… everywhere.
She must have felt my gaze because she lifted her head and met my eyes through the reflection.
Interesting.
Her expression shifted in an instant. The initial flash of surprise vanished, replaced with a mask of quiet defiance. She wanted me to know she wasn't intimidated.
Bold.
For a full minute, neither of us looked away. A silent battle. A challenge.
Then the elevator dinged.
She rushed out as if she couldn't stand being near me for another second.
I shook my head, exhaling sharply. "If she's here for the intern interview, she's late. That's already a poor work ethic."
The elevator doors closed again, carrying me higher to the top floor. As soon as I stepped out, I headed straight for my office.
"Good morning, Mr. Royal!" My secretary, Amelia, greeted me with the same overly cheerful voice she always used.
I barely acknowledged her with a curt nod. "Gather today's schedule and brief me in ten minutes."
She nodded, unfazed by my short response. "Of course, sir."
I pushed open my office door and stepped inside.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city skyline, casting natural light across the sleek, modern space. Dark mahogany shelves lined one side of the room, filled with neatly arranged business books and financial reports. My desk, an expanse of black marble, sat in the center with a leather chair behind it. Minimal, efficient. Exactly how I liked it.
I shut the door, exhaling as I sat at my desk and flipped open my laptop.
Pulling up the intern files, I scrolled through the list, searching for one name.
Kensington.
And there it was.
Ruby Madeline Kensington.
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my jaw as I stared at the name. A slow smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.
I was right. She was exactly who I thought she was.
This just got interesting.
Maybe I'd have a little fun before I got serious about today's work.
Amelia entered with the usual bright energy she brought to the office every morning, but today, I couldn't care less about her cheerfulness.
"Good morning, Mr. Royal. I've already prepared the briefing for today, and your meetings with—"
I cut her off before she could finish, annoyance lacing my tone. "I want to interview an intern."
Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if unsure of what she had just heard, but she didn't question it. "Of course, Mr. Royal. I can bring someone up right away—"
I cut her off, the irritation from earlier still simmering beneath the surface. "I want one in specific," I said, holding up a hand to stop her mid-sentence. "Ruby Kensington."
Amelia froze for a moment, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She knew better than to ask questions, but I could see the curiosity flicker in her eyes. Ruby Kensington? The intern? That name was a random choice—what was I thinking?
I didn't give her a chance to speak. "I want to interview her."
Her eyes widened for a split second, but she quickly masked it, nodding in quick succession. "Of course, sir. I'll bring her up right away."
She left my office, her heels clicking against the floor as she walked down the hall. I turned back to my laptop, not really paying attention as I scanned through the data I had to process. My mind kept wandering back to the girl. Ruby Kensington. The girl with the eyes that wouldn't leave my mind.
I stood up from my desk, needing a change of pace. I walked toward the windows, my gaze drifting to the skyline of New York. The city looked so peaceful from here, yet inside the walls of this building, everything felt like a battlefield. I stood there for a moment, lost in thought, hands tucked in my pockets.
I was just trying to clear my mind when the door clicked open behind me.
Ruby entered.
She didn't notice me right away, her gaze fixed on something in her hands, probably papers or her notes. I took a moment to study her, my eyes narrowing as I watched her walk into the room, completely unaware of my presence. She looked so out of place in the crisp, sleek environment of the office—her dark brown hair slightly messy, her outfit a little too casual for the formal corporate atmosphere.
She looked...different. Almost like a fish out of water, trying to navigate a world that wasn't hers.
Her presence irritated me more than I wanted to admit, the way she moved, the way she seemed so comfortable despite the situation. It was as if she didn't quite care that she was standing in front of the acting CEO of the entire company.
When she finally looked up and saw me, her smile faltered for a split second, then quickly disappeared into a tense, unreadable expression.
I couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, but it was laced with an edge, a frustration I couldn't quite shake.
"Tell me, Miss Kensington…" I began, my voice cool, low, and commanding, "Do you often make a habit of insulting your future employer?"