Page 22 of Twisted Fate

He rises from his seat at the head of the table and buttons his black suit jacket. “Good morning, Miss Marshall,” he says, and I stand there, screaming profanities in my head.

There’s no one else in the room, no one to defuse the tangible tension or to look to for help.

“This isn’t . . . you can’t...what thehellareyoudoing here?”

His lips twitch. “An interesting way to introduce yourself to a potential boss.”

My jaw clenches. “I’d sooner work under the manager of a Taco Bell,” I seethe. “This is not happening.” I move back a few steps. “There must be some mistake. I’ll interview for someone—anyone—else.”

“I figured you might say that. Unfortunately for you, I’m the last mentor available. You see, that’s what happens when you sleep in and arrive late for an interview.”

“My apologies. I haven’t exactly been sleeping well.”

“That’s concerning to hear,” he says, but the look on his face tells me he’s far from concerned. If anything, he’s amused. Bastard.

I stand there in silence for several beats before sighing. “This is my only option. Of freaking course.” I approach the table that separates us. “This is serious. My education is the most important thing to me. I don’t know why god hates me so much as to drop this in my lap, but here I am—and here you are.”

He nods, remaining silent.

“For the duration of this interview, you are not you. You’re a successful business owner and mentor that I’m meant to learn from, and I’m, well, I get to be me.”

He presses his lips together against a smile, and I scowl.

“Quit it,” I snap.

He arches a brow. “What am I doing?”

“You’re looking at me like this is funny, and it’s not. This is my future, and I’m pissed that you’re screwing with it, so I’m telling you how this is going to go.”

“Are you?” he asks. “Please continue.”

“You ask questions, and I answer them. You’re impressed with my answers, and then I leave. Simple as that. Got it?”

“I thought I was supposed to ask the questions.”

“Tristan!” I shout without thinking. It’s unprofessional, sure, but nothing about this situation is normal, and he has been nothing close to professional either.

“Relax, Aurora. Why don’t we start?”

I huff out a breath and force a nod. “Fine.”

He sticks his hand out. “Good morning. I’m Tristan Westbrook.”

I hesitate but place my hand in his and shake it. “Aurora Marshall.”

“Come on. You can do better than that. Do I make you that nervous?” His eyes dance with amusement.

I snatch my hand back. “No.” My response is a bit too quick. “Let’s just do this.”

“Very well.” He gestures to the chair across from him where I’m standing. “Please,” he says before he returns to his seat.

I sit and pull my portfolio out of my bag. Opening it, I slide my resume out and set it on the table. I flick a glance up to find him watching me, and I push the paper toward him.

He picks it up and reads it over before setting it back down. “Your volunteer work is impressive.”

“Thank you.”

He meets my gaze. “What are you hoping to gain from this work placement?”

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