Chapter 2 - The Encounter

"Oh, it is you," Mr. Tan says, his face inscrutable. "The girl who had the balls to get in my way."

Claire is so shocked for a moment, a million thoughts running through her head. Should she just back out and get out of this place? What the receptionist said seemed true—this man is a monster. Just look at his demeanor. It doesn't matter that he looks flawlessly handsome—probably the product of a consistent beauty regimen or something that only the world's top CEOs have access to—it must be hell to work for this man, this person who perhaps regards other human beings as nothing but pawns he could use to suit his own ends.

"I…I wasn't standing in your way…S—sir. I was just checking if I had the correct address."

Mr. Tan gazes at him for a long moment, then he snickers and flicks back his shoulder-length hair. "Why are we standing here like idiots? Sit down. There's a comfy chair just behind you. Use it."

How repulsive, she thinks. Yet, she stifles her anger. For some reason, she wants to see this through and see what happens in this so-called interview. She might even have a chance to give him a piece of her mind later. She sighs, smoothens her skirt, and sits down.

He stares at her for a moment, then takes the seat opposite her.

"So," he begins, holding before him her printed-out CV. "You're applying for a job."

Yes, Captain Obvious, she thinks. Why on earth would a normal human being dare enter the maw of hell, as the receptionist would have put it, except out of desperation to get a job, any job. "Yes, Sir." She steels her resolve and adopts her old champion debater persona. "As you may glean from my curriculum vitae, I am a top graduate of Xavier University. Summa ċum laude. I have a long list of honors and awards that I would be glad to explain in detail to you just to prove my credentials."

"Hmmm." Mr. Tan's eyes squint as he scans the document. "It says here you're an awesome specimen of humanity, Miss Monteverde." He gazes directly at her. "I just don't understand why a person of your credentials would go so low as to apply for a job that's obviously beneath all your skills, stature, and talent."

Claire doesn't know what to feel with that statement—should she feel flattered that he seems to recognize her worth? Or is this some nasty game and he's just being sarcastic? Should she tell him the truth? What did the receptionist tell her earlier? "Mr. Tan's a monster." She realizes now that such monstrosity has many complex layers.

"I need a job," she finally says. "To tell you the absolute truth, you're the twenty-third person who interviewed me. There was always something wrong with the first twenty-two."

"You mean, despite all the wonderful stuff written here in your curriculum vitae, they won't hire you?"

She makes a little nod of the head. That's right, Claire. Play the damsel in distress card now. See where it takes you. "I don't understand either. I'm willing to demonstrate to you what I'm capable of."

Mr. Tan pinches the bridge of his nose, as though trying to offset some oncoming headache. "Let me be honest with you, Miss Monteverde. Nobody can stand me. I've had countless people work for me, and they rarely last a week. What you're seeing now is my best possible side—this is actually me being in a good mood. And proof is that you're sitting there, not actually crying." He stops. He just sits there staring at her, his eyes taking all of her from head to foot.

Claire clears her throat and fixes how she's seated. She crosses and uncrosses her legs. She gazes in the general direction of the nearby glass walls, where the breathtaking view shows the outlines of the city. She hopes that Mr. Tan follows her gaze and realizes he must come back to earth, to this moment, and make a decision favorable to her. When after a few minutes she turns back to him, her heart slightly jumps—he's still gazing at her, as though reading her intently. It would have been fine if not for those eyes—those penetrating eyes that seem to be taking her clothes off, as though he's seeing through her layers of clothing. Strangely, the thought of him imagining her nȧkėd sends a shiver of delight through her whole being. She shouldn't be like this. She should try to think and act like a mȧturė, professional person.

She returns his gaze. "Well," she begins. "What do you want, Mr. Tan? Won't you ask me questions HR officers usually throw at prospective applicants? Won't you ask me about my strengths and weaknesses, how do I see myself five years from now, or if you could ask my best friend, what might be the bad things they might say about me? Or would you instead like to demonstrate how bad you are as a boss, in order to find out if I can stand it?"

Mr. Tan laughs dryly. "There's no need for that. And I'm curious, too, so it must be your lucky day. You'll soon find out what kind of a person I am. Are the rumors true? Was my receptionist—yes, I know she's been blabbing about me, which she doesn't realize is the reason why I haven't fired her—telling the truth? Or are those all lies, which I spread just for shits and giggles?" He looks around and sighs. "Yes, Miss Monteverde, as an answer to your unspoken question, I'm hiring you. On probation. Pending your actual discovery of whether you can actually stomach the darkest of my moods."

"Really, sir? Oh, my…"

"But before I welcome you to hell," he says, cutting her off. "I have a proposal I believe you simply cannot refuse."

"And what would that be, sir?"

When he explained the proposal, in all its sordid detail, Claire Monteverde almost stood up, finding it hard to believe what she's hearing.