Chapter 1

Luna

I take a deep breath, my fingers curling around the strap of my portfolio. The leather is cool against my sweaty palm. “You’ve got this, Luna,” I whisper, barely audible in the oppressive silence of Pinnacle Global Enterprises’ reception area. The words hang in the air, thick with ambition and expensive perfume.

My hands move of their own accord, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my pencil skirt. I can’t help but scan the room, taking in my competition. Sharp suits, sharper eyes. They look like they were born for this world of glass and steel. My heart thuds against my ribs, a mix of intimidation and determination.

The click of my heels on the polished floor sounds like gunshots as I approach the receptionist’s desk. Every head swivels in my direction. Great. Just great.

“Good morning,” I start, aiming for confident but landing somewhere closer to breathless. “I’m here for the—”

My portfolio slips. I lunge to catch it, my fingertips grazing the leather. Success! Until my elbow catches the pen holder, sending a cascade of expensive-looking pens across the immaculate surface.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” I stammer, cheeks burning as I help the receptionist gather the scattered pens. Her smile is professional, but I catch the flicker of annoyance in her eyes.

“No worries,” she says, her voice syrupy sweet. “These things happen.”

I retreat to an empty chair, the weight of scrutiny pressing down on me. A glance in the nearby mirror reveals a traitorous strand of hair escaping my carefully crafted bun. I tuck it behind my ear, catching a snippet of conversation.

“…heard they grill you on market trends from the last decade,” a man in an impeccable suit mutters to his neighbor. “And that’s the warm-up.”

My stomach clenches. I pull out my resume, needing the comfort of cold, hard facts. But my hands tremble, and—wait. A typo? How did I miss that? My mind spins out, imagining Alexander Frost’s steely gaze narrowing at this glaring error, dismissing me without consideration.

Breathe, Luna. I close my eyes, focusing on the steady in-and-out of air. When I open them again, I notice curious glances from nearby candidates. Let them stare.

The interview room door opens, and a woman emerges. Her shoulders are slumped, eyes red-rimmed. My nausea returns full force. That could be me in an hour. No. No, it won’t be. I’ve prepared for this. I know I’m qualified.

I stand, needing to move, to shake off this spiraling anxiety. That’s when I see it—a small brown stain on my crisp white blouse. Coffee. When did that happen?

“Excuse me,” I mutter, making a beeline for the restroom. In my haste, I collide with another candidate. “Sorry, sorry!”

In the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom, I dab at the stain with a damp paper towel. My mind races. Can I button my blazer over it? Will that look too stuffy? Should I—

No. Stop. I meet my own eyes in the mirror. I am more than a coffee stain. More than a typo. I’ve faced worse than this and come out stronger.

When I return to the waiting area, someone’s taken my seat. Their bag sprawls across the chair, a clear ‘keep out’ sign. Not today.

“Excuse me,” I say, injecting steel into my voice. “I was sitting there. Would you mind moving your things?”

The woman looks up, startled, then sheepish. As she gathers her belongings, pride surges through me. I handled that. Maybe I do belong here after all.

The receptionist approaches, clipboard in hand. The air crackles with tension as every candidate sits up straighter, smooths their hair, adjusts their ties.

I inhale slowly, steadying myself. This is it.

“Luna Harlow?”

I stand, heart pounding against my ribs. One step, two—my heel catches. I stumble, righting myself after what feels like an eternity.

“That’s me,” I manage, forcing a smile.

The receptionist nods, her expression unreadable. “Mr. Frost will see you now.”

I follow her down a long hallway, my pulse thundering in my ears. This is it, Luna. Your shot at the big leagues. Don’t screw it up.

She stops in front of an imposing mahogany door, knocks once, then gestures for me to enter. “Good luck,” she says, and for a moment, I see a flicker of genuine kindness in her eyes.

* * *

I step into Alexander Frost’s office, and the world shifts on its axis. He rises from behind an imposing desk, and I’m instantly struck by his commanding presence. Those piercing blue eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

“Ms. Harlow,” his voice deep and rich. “Welcome to Pinnacle Global Enterprises.”

I force myself to move, to speak. “Thank you, Mr. Frost. I appreciate the opportunity.”

Our hands meet in a handshake, and a jolt of electricity races up my arm. His grip is firm, confident. Mine feels small and delicate in comparison. A nagging doubt creeps in – am I truly equipped to handle this powerful, experienced man?

I settle into the chair across from him, acutely aware of his gaze. It’s like being under a microscope, every flaw magnified. I straighten my spine, determined not to let him see my uncertainty.

“So, Ms. Harlow,” he begins, leaning back in his chair. “Tell me why you’re here.”

I take a deep breath, centering myself. “I’m here because I believe I can bring significant value to Pinnacle Global Enterprises. My background in—”

He holds up a hand, cutting me off. “I’ve read your resume, Ms. Harlow. I want to know why you’re really here. What drives you?”

The question catches me off guard. I pause, considering my words carefully. “Honestly, Mr. Frost? I’m here because I want to make a difference. In my career, in this company, in the world. I know that might sound naive or idealistic, but—”

“It doesn’t,” he interrupts, and I swear I see a flicker of interest in those icy blue eyes. “Continue.”

Encouraged, I lean in. “I’ve always been fascinated by the intersection of business and innovation. Pinnacle Global Enterprises is at the forefront of that intersection. The work you’re doing here, the advancements you’re making… it’s changing the world. I want to be part of that change.”

He nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “And what makes you think you’re qualified to be part of that change, Ms. Harlow?”

I straighten my shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. “My track record speaks for itself, Mr. Frost. I’ve consistently exceeded expectations in my previous roles. I’m a quick learner, I’m adaptable, and I’m not afraid of hard work. But more than that, I bring a fresh perspective. I see connections and opportunities that others might miss.”

“Give me an example,” he demands, leaning forward.

I pause briefly, my mind whirling. “Well, take your recent expansion into sustainable energy solutions. It’s a bold move, and it’s garnered a lot of attention. But I think there’s an untapped opportunity there.”

His eyebrow arches. “Oh? Do tell.”

“Most of the focus has been on large-scale applications,” I explain, warming to my topic. “But there’s a growing market for small-scale, residential solutions. If Pinnacle could develop a line of affordable, user-friendly products for individual homeowners, it could open up an entirely new revenue stream while also furthering your commitment to sustainability.”

For a moment, there’s silence. I hold my breath, wondering if I’ve overstepped. Then, to my surprise, Alexander Frost smiles. It’s a small thing, just a quirk of his lips, but it transforms his face.

“Interesting perspective, Ms. Harlow,” he says, and a sense of pride washes over me. “Now, let’s discuss your experience.”

The interview continues, questions and answers flying back and forth like rapid gunfire. My heart races, but with each response, my voice grows steadier, my posture straightens. The initial tremor in my hands subsides as I gesture confidently, illustrating my points. Alexander’s piercing blue eyes never leave mine, his pen scribbling furiously across his notepad.

As we wrap up, Alexander rises from his imposing leather chair, the soft creak breaking the tension-filled silence. He extends his hand, and I notice a faint scar across his knuckles. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Harlow. It’s been… illuminating.” His deep voice sends a shiver down my spine.

I reach out, my smaller hand enveloped in his warm, firm grip. A jolt of electricity courses through me at the contact, and I have to suppress a gasp. “Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Frost. I look forward to hearing from you.” My voice comes out breathier than I intended.

As I turn to leave, my heels clicking sharply on the polished floor, his voice stops me cold. “Ms. Harlow?”

I freeze, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Slowly, I turn back, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Yes?”

His eyes lock onto mine, intense and unreadable. I feel pinned in place by his gaze, unable to look away. His eyes flick down for a fraction of a second, and I follow his line of sight.

“That stain on your blouse. Coffee?”

Heat rushes to my face, my cheeks burning. I resist the urge to cover the spot with my hand, instead forcing myself to meet his eyes. “I… yes. I’m so sorry, I—” My voice trails off, mortification tying my tongue in knots.

“No need to apologize. It shows you’re human. And that you likely start your day with a proper cup of coffee. Both admirable qualities in my book.”

I blink, stunned by this unexpected show of… humor? Understanding? “I… thank you, Mr. Frost.”

He nods, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “Good day, Ms. Harlow.”

As I exit his office, my mind reels. What just happened? Did I actually impress Alexander Frost? I can’t shake the feeling that something monumental has occurred.

I make my way back through the reception area, aware of the curious glances from the other candidates. But this time, I hold my head high. Whatever happens next, I know I gave it my all.

Outside, the New York air hits me like a wall of noise and motion after the hushed intensity of PGE’s offices. I breathe in the cool air, feeling the adrenaline of the past hour settle.

“Well,” I murmur to myself, a smile tugging at my lips. “That was one hell of an interview.”