CHAPTER 5 AN UNFRIENDLY ENCOUNTER

JADE’S POV A WEEK LATER "It'll be fine,"" "I'll do great."" That's what I've been telling myself since I got a job interview at Vincleft. What is Vincleft? Well, It's only one of the most successful fashion companies with branches worldwide. Their designs are insane, and I mean that in a good way. I majored in and love fashion, so this is a massive deal. My entire year would have been much better if I had gotten this job. It's an apprentice kind of thing where I'd get the opportunity to work under fantastic fashion icons and be paid a lot, although I won't know how much that is until I get the job. I've been seriously practicing my approach for tomorrow's interview since an interview can either make or break you if you're too comfortable, chatty, or slow. But then again, if you're too quiet, rigid, or inexperienced, that could be better, too. I have to balance the two for me to nail this, and I will, hopefully. I've been using cue cards to practice with Peter, but I'll have to do that alone today since he's not here this evening. Where is he? I don't know. Why, I don't know. Because I'm not his mother, I don't want to know what rubbish he's getting himself into tonight. One good thing is that since I started staying with him, he hasn't been bringing girls over, which is a massive relief to me since no one wants to have that awkward conversation with a new girl every week. It's always the same story where I visit and see some girl here who obviously doesn't like me at first glance, and then I have to clear the air by explaining that nothing is going on between him and me to them. And that's not the worst part; the worst part is that they don't believe me, so I leave them to do something significant. What should be very important at that moment? You could be asking again. Well, I only puke in my mouth, that is. No offense to Peter, but even the idea that the girls who come here or anyone could honestly think we could be dating or secretly seeing each other bothers me so much. I mean, isn't that practically incest? I think it is, by the way. The stupid fool never tries to deny these allegations in front of these girls, and why? You could be asking again. "It keeps them from coming back for more, especially when they think they have competition, hotter competition." I didn't need to hear that from him, did I? All in all, the entire thing traumatizes me, so I'm glad he's being considerate for the first time. He did say something before he left, though, something about me going to bed early. I guess that makes sense since I sleep AND wake up really late most times. Why do I do that? I do not know, so I'll shower now and then force myself to go to bed later because this question-and-answer exercise I've been doing to prepare for the interview is wearing me out. ****************************** "Cut it out," I murmur lazily as I yawn and try to find my alarm that's beeping loudly simultaneously. After a minute, I finally opened my eyes and forced myself to sit up and look at the time. 8:28 reads, which I overlook as I scratch my head and discover something pasted on. I looked and saw a note Peter most likely wrote before I actually read it out loud. "You're probably seeing this around eight, aren't you? Since I'm being so generous, I'll remind you that you have somewhere to be before nine. Where? You might be thinking so I'll help kickstart your brain for the morning. It's nothing significant, though, since it's only the biggest interview you'll probably ever get. So in short, you, Vincleft, interview, 9:00, chop chop". "Vincleft, Vinc…." I think before my brain loads fully. "Shit!!" I scream as I scramble out of bed and glance at my alarm clock again. 8:33, it reads, and I internally groan. "Why did it have to be today?" I ask myself as I rush into the bathroom. "Where the hell is my… oh found it!" I scream to no one in particular. I'm done in fifteen minutes, and by done, I mean that I've successfully managed to shower, tie my hair into the most hideous knot I've ever seen, and dress up in whatever you would call this. It takes roughly fifteen minutes to get there in my car, so although I'll be late, I hope I won't be late. I mean, die, by the way, in case you didn't understand my little….. um, yeah, so I'm going now and humiliate myself even more. I get there by around 9:11, which isn't so bad, but I notice how tense all the other people waiting for their turn are. I admit that the air here is a bit uncomfortable, so I ask the girl by my right what the hell is happening. "Excuse me, is there something I don't know about?" I ask as quietly as I can to avoid any unwanted attention. "You didn't hear?" She starts, and I shake my head, confused, before she continues, "The owner isn't the one handling the interview today; there's a collaboration between them and another organization, as we heard, so someone else from that company will be handling the interview today," she explains in hushed tones. "Oh, so do you know who will handle the interview today? I ask, and she shakes her head. "But I'll say this: whoever it is must be too successful, successful enough to make the owner of Vincleft walk on eggshells," she replies before a name gets called and stands. "It's my turn, so wish me luck," she says with a bright smile before she goes in, and after a few minutes, she bursts through the door with a look that tells me that she's about to cry. I watch her stomp down the hall and into the elevator before blowing out a breath. Eventually, my name is called, and I mentally check myself as I knock on the door and wait for a few seconds before I walk in. I enter the larger-than-life office and quietly close the door before walking forward. Who the hell does he think he is? How does he rudely face the window when it's clear that someone is in the room with him? No wonder that girl left so abruptly; I, for one, couldn't stand arrogant people. A voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look towards the office chair he is sitting on. "Excuse me?" I say, not catching the question I'm sure was asked. He doesn't say anything for a moment, which makes the entire thing even more uncomfortable as I wait for a reply silently. "Name," he finally repeats, and I ignore how pleasant and masculine his voice is to avoid getting lost in my thoughts again. "It's Jade Thomas, but I'm guessing you knew that since you're literally holding my portfolio," I say, leaving out the parts that don't include my name, which could also get me kicked out. "Jade Mackenzie Thomas," he replies in a way that sounds like…." Sit," he continues, and I immediately obey and get comfortable on the chair that directly faces him. In a swift motion, he cooly swivels around to face me, and I instantly start to study his features in awe. I would describe him as simply being breathtakingly handsome; it's not just his eyes, which shine so rich blue that I believe he's seen all life has to offer, not just his hair, which is …, "Are you done?" He questions, which pulls me out of my thoughts, and I mentally face-palm myself for forgetting what I'm here for and embarrassing myself again. I don't respond for a moment since I understand what he means. I clear my throat and answer nicely, "I got carried away for a moment; please don't mind me and continue." He slightly shakes his head in probable annoyance before scanning the pieces of paper in his hand and looking at me for what I think is confirmation. "Why do you want this job?" He asks, and I rub my sweaty palms together before saying what I've been practicing for some time now, "Working for this company has been a.." I start before he rudely interrupts me, nosily dumping my portfolio on the table. "Wrong answer," he tells me with a look that heavily suggests that he doesn't like me much. "Excuse me?" I ask, utterly confused, and he does that stupid thing where he doesn't answer me immediately. "I want the actual reason," he clarifies, and I quietly scoff because who the hell is he to decide if my reasons are adequate? If I decide they are, he should accept them without hesitation. "And what might that be?" I counter, already feeling frustrated with his attitude. "You should know," he retorts after almost a minute. "Well, I don't," I reply immediately, which leads to a very uncomfortable staring contest that I end by averting my eyes. "You don't know where to stop, do you?" he asks with an agitated undertone, "I have no idea what you mean," I respond, as confused as ever, which must annoy him so much since he stands up abruptly and leans forward on the large wood desk to eye me like a hawk. "Jade Thomas, daughter of Frank Thomas, whose fraudulent activities caused the downfall of his entire business, made his family lose their affluence, and the only way he thought to fix his problems was to jump off a damn building. Did I get that right? "he states. I stand as well and arrange myself as calmly as possible before staring at him in pure, unadulterated rage. "Are you crazy? or do you don't have any manners?" I ask, trying as hard as possible to withhold my frustration, which is as clear as day. "You, conversely, are your father's daughter since you're here trying to be a similar nuisance. Are you that desperate that you were willing to come all the way here in the pretense of looking for a job to try and probably blackmail me and my family for money?". "Okay," I start, entirely and utterly dumbfounded, "Firstly, I don't know who you think you are. Secondly, I love fashion, and I'm looking for a job here since it would be wonderful for my career. Thirdly and most importantly, you have no right to talk about things you know nothing about. My father was an excellent man who loved his family, and people like you keep trying to paint him as a monster. I don't think you're right about all you've said about me and my family, so next time, if you think I'm not good enough for the job, which is wrong, by the way, you should say so without trying to bring me and my family down. Goodbye then," I conclude nicely with a smile after practically screaming at him, which was well deserved. "Crazy bastard," I mutter to his hearing as I leave the office and bang the doors as loudly as possible. What the hell just happened? I ask myself, still partly shocked and annoyed by what went down. "I take it Mr. Miller wasn't gracious towards you," a man beside me asks, and I let out an exasperated breath before repeating his words in my brain. "Mr. Miller?" I repeat, looking as confused as I was a minute ago and nodding his head knowingly, "I heard he just landed yesterday and got straight into working and holding interviews for a new joint project with this company." "So you're telling that that rude son of a…" "Yes," he cuts in immediately, "You just met the one and only Greyson Miller," he confirms, and I nod thoughtfully before excusing myself. It was unbelievable. I left the premises as fast as I could to avoid getting a repeat. I never really knew much about the so-called "Prince of Miller group" before, but meeting him is something I never want to pass through again. I never imagined I would have anything in common with Dylan since we were so incompatible as a couple, but thanks to today, we do. I have a burning hatred for everything and anything related to the name Greyson Miller.