"Stop fidgeting, Mia. You look like you're about to confess to a crime," Kim said, tugging at the hem of Mia's navy-blue skirt.
Mia swatted her hands away. "I'm just nervous. It's not every day I interview for a billionaire's kitchen."
Kim grinned, holding up two earrings. "Gold hoops or pearls?"
"Neither," Mia said quickly. "I don't want to look like I'm trying too hard."
Kim arched a brow. "Trying too hard? Sweetheart, you're about to walk into Steele Corporation. The walls there probably wear designer suits. You can at least put on earrings."
Mia sighed and let her do her thing. "You sound more nervous than I am."
"I am," Kim said, pinning a small gold hoop through Mia's ear. "Because if you blow this, I'll never forgive myself for recommending you."
"Wow, thanks for the pep talk," Mia deadpanned, grabbing her tote bag. "I feel so confident now."
Kim laughed and handed her a travel mug. "Drink. Coffee helps with fear. And don't forget, smile, but not too much. You don't want to look desperate."
Mia took the mug and made for the door. "Got it. Smile, don't panic, don't spill anything, and definitely don't faint."
"That's my girl!" Kim called after her. "Go land us that billionaire paycheck!"
The Steele Corporation building stood like a glass monolith in midtown Manhattan, sunlight glinting off its polished surface. For a moment, Mia just stared at it from the sidewalk, heart pounding. This place probably costs more per day than my entire rent per year.
She walked through the revolving doors, trying to look like she belonged. Inside, everything gleamed,marble floors, chrome accents, people in tailored suits moving with purpose. She felt her pulse quicken but kept her chin high.
At the reception desk, a well-dressed woman smiled politely. "Good morning. You're here for the culinary position?"
Mia nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Mia Brooks."
"Elevator to the twentieth floor. Conference Room B. They'll call you in shortly."
Mia thanked her and stepped into the elevator. As the doors closed, she caught her reflection in the mirrored wall,nervous eyes, steady breath, a flicker of determination.
"Okay, Mia," she whispered. "It's just an interview, not judgment day."
Conference Room B buzzed with low chatter when she entered. Five other applicants sat in sleek chairs, each dressed like they'd walked out of a cooking magazine. Mia slipped into an empty seat, clutching her folder.
The woman next to her gave her a once-over. "First time applying here?"
"Yes," Mia said politely. "You?"
"Tara Jennings," the woman said, flashing a practiced smile. "Worked at Le Ciel downtown for three years. If they know talent, this'll be a short interview."
"Right," Mia murmured, unsure if that was confidence or arrogance.
On her other side, a tall man adjusted his cufflinks. "Kevin Myers. I worked for the Monroes in Long Island. Real money. They say Mr. Steele's particular. Good. I like a man who knows quality."
Mia bit back a comment. Is this an interview or a bragging contest?
Before she could dwell on it, the door opened.
A man in his early thirties strode in, crisp suit, easy smile, the kind of confidence that didn't need announcing. His eyes were bright, sharp with amusement.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Ethan Cole. I'll be conducting your interviews today on behalf of Mr. Steele."
Murmurs rippled through the room. Mia straightened her posture. So this was the infamous best friend.
Ethan leaned casually against the desk. "Relax, people. No one's getting chopped today, well, unless your cooking's terrible."
A few polite laughs filled the air. He smiled wider. "We'll go one at a time. Let's start with… Miss Jennings?"
Tara shot Mia a quick, confident look and strutted up front.
Tara's Interview
Ethan gestured for her to sit. "Tell me, Miss Jennings. What makes you the right fit for this job?"
"I have extensive experience in fine dining," Tara said, flashing her perfect smile. "I've served high-profile clients and know how to maintain discretion and excellence."
Ethan nodded, unimpressed. "And if Mr. Steele asked for a simple breakfast, say,scrambled eggs and toast, what would you do?"
Tara blinked. "Scrambled eggs? I'd… well, I'd elevate it. Add truffle oil, imported herbs..."
"So, not actually what he asked for," Ethan cut in, raising a brow. "Interesting approach."
A faint flush colored her cheeks. "I simply believe in quality."
Ethan scribbled something down, expression unreadable. "Thank you, Miss Jennings. Next,Mr. Myers?"
Kevin's Interview
Kevin swaggered up, flashing an overly confident smile. "You won't find anyone more efficient, sir."
Ethan tilted his head. "Big claim. Tell me,what's the hardest client you've handled?"
"Hardest? Probably Mrs. Monroe. She could be difficult, but once I told her how her roast should actually be done, she stopped interfering."
Mia winced.
Ethan's brow lifted. "You told your employer how to cook?"
Kevin chuckled. "Well, someone had to educate her."
Ethan closed his notepad slowly. "I see. Thank you, Mr. Myers."
The tone said everything. Kevin returned to his seat, still smirking, completely unaware.
Mia's Turn
"Mia Brooks?" Ethan called.
Her pulse jumped. She stood, smoothing her skirt, and walked forward with as much calm as she could muster.
"Morning," she greeted, offering a smile.
Ethan leaned back, scanning her file briefly. "You're new to the city."
"Yes, sir."
"Please, don't 'sir' me. Makes me feel ancient. Just Ethan's fine." He looked up, eyes glinting. "So, Miss Brooks, tell me,what makes you the right fit?"
She took a breath. "I love cooking. I'm not from a fancy restaurant, and I don't have five-star training, but I've spent years cooking for people who mattered to me. I believe food should feel like home."
Ethan's expression softened slightly. "That's… an uncommon answer."
"Maybe," Mia said, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "But I think even billionaires want to feel human sometimes."
Ethan chuckled quietly. "Touché. And how are you with pressure?"
"I've survived rush hours in a diner kitchen with five broken fryers and one screaming manager," she said dryly. "I think I can handle one picky client."
The room laughed,Ethan included. "Fair point."
He closed the file, tapping it lightly. "Well, Miss Brooks, that was refreshing."
She stood, unsure if that was good or bad. "Thank you for your time."
Ethan's eyes followed her as she turned to leave. "We'll be in touch. Through mail."
She nodded, managing a small smile. "I'll look forward to it."
When the elevator doors slid shut, Mia let out a long breath. She had no idea if she'd impressed him, but something about his smile lingered in her mind.
Back in the conference room, Ethan flipped through her file again, the corner of his mouth curving. "New in the city, huh?" he murmured to himself. "Interesting."