Page 16 of Deadline for Love

“When you’re finished, call the visitor reception; a car will drive you back.”

Once I exited the car, I brushed over my clothes before entering the building.

I was in a section where there were only two ways to go: take the stairs or the elevators right next to it. Naturally, I decided to take the elevator.

There was a sign on a wall where the individual floors were labeled; I had been instructed to go to room 225 which strangely was on the eighth floor.

“I’m glad you came,” Gordon Wilson greeted in a deep voice when I arrived and led me into the conference room where several men in suits sat around a large table.

Each of them introduced themselves, and then I took a seat.

When I was sure everyone was ready, I picked up the tape recorder and started asking questions one at a time, and as each person began to answer. Every answer sounded suspiciously rehearsed and lacked any kind of authenticity.

Almost an hour of bragging went on until I finally reached the end of this particular interview. Mr. Wilson stood up with the other gentlemen and offered me his hand in farewell.

“Mr. Thompson will show you to our other departments.’’

Mr. Thompson took this as a sign and stepped up beside me, then asked me to follow him.

Inwardly, I sighed and was glad to finally be out of there, but Mr. Thompson gave me a pointed look and then started to explain the building layout on the way to the next floor before he retold the company’s history.

When we reached a corridor, we heard voices chatting. Three people were standing at the end of the aisle, talking so loudly that we could listen to some of the conversation.

“They’re two engineers and our best designer,” Mr. Thompson explained, even though I hadn’t asked.

“Do you know the name of the person you’re supposed to interview?”

“No, it says I can interview one of the team members. Everyone has been informed,” I replied, looking at the list again to ensure.

“Then I would suggest that you interview him.” He pointed to the man standing with his back to us.

The figure looked familiar, with a tall, well-built body and a muscled back dressed in a fitted button-down. The dark brown hair...

Before I realized it, the man turned around, and our eyes met. The beautiful brown of his eyes shone brightly as the sun’s rays hit him through the large windows of the building. His skin glowed with the light, flawless and beautiful—Nathan Blake.

“Mr. Blake, good to see you. I hope we’re not intruding.” Mr. Thompson gestured again to follow him, addressing Nathan. We approached him and then halted right in front of him.

“This is Miss Carter. She’s here today to conduct interviews. I heard you’ve been informed. Are you free now?” he asked, pointing to the blonde-haired woman wearing a trouser suit with perfectly plucked eyebrows, then to the blonde-haired man also wearing a suit.

“Yes, I am. Pleased to meet you, Miss Carter.” Nathan’s deep voice once again made butterflies flutter in my stomach. And when our hands touched in greeting, my heart skipped a beat.

“Very well, I’ll leave you to it. When you’ve finished, shall I come back for you?”

I let go of Nathan’s hand and then brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

“No, I can find my way to Mr. Mitchell’s,” I said firmly, which only made the man nod.

“Melissa and Ryan, you can come round later, and we can finish this discussion,” Nathan informed his two colleagues and smiled at me. “Let’s go to my office.”

Well, now I was getting nervous.

His office was at the end of the corridor, so we got there quickly. It was modern and had large windows with a view of the factory. Since we were deep inside the facility, you could already see the end from here, where there was a fence with many trees to protect it from intruders.

He had a desk at the end of the room with many bookshelves. There was a separate modern coffee machine at the side. I sat at a small table that was probably used for discussions.

“Would you like a coffee, Miss Carter?”

The formality in his voice made me look at him.

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