Adrian Westwood was furious.
Not the yelling, throwing-things kind of furious—no, that would be far too undignified for him. Adrian's fury simmered quietly behind his dark eyes, perfectly controlled like everything else in his life… except for what had just happened in the lobby.
As the elevator doors slid closed and the paramedics insisted he go to the nearby private hospital, he kept one hand pressed to his temple, a dull throb pulsing beneath it.
"A flying laptop," he muttered. "Unbelievable."
Beside him, his assistant Julian grinned while trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh. He was in his late twenties, stylish in a playful way, with sandy blond hair that refused to stay combed and a tablet always in hand.
"I've been with you for five years, sir," Julian said. "And I swear, this is the most exciting thing that's ever happened before 9 AM."
Adrian shot him a look that could incinerate small villages.
Julian didn't flinch. "You'll want the CCTV footage. For... evidence?"
"I'll want her name," Adrian muttered. "Her resume. Her address. Her blood type, if necessary."
Julian raised a brow. "Planning to sue her? Or frame it as an assassination attempt?"
Adrian didn't answer. His eyes narrowed. "She said she had an interview here."
"She did," Julian confirmed, swiping through his tablet. "Aria Langley. Marketing department. Resume's actually pretty impressive. Degree from Kingsford Business School. Internship at Silver Slate Studios. Daughter of—wait—"
"What?"
"Langley... as in Richard Langley's granddaughter."
Adrian blinked. "Richard Langley of Langley Automotives?"
"The very one. Which makes her filthy rich. Yet she nearly decapitated you with a five-year-old Lenovo held together by duct tape."
Adrian leaned his head back against the elevator wall. "Unbelievable."
Julian grinned. "Want me to cancel her interview?"
Adrian closed his eyes. "No."
"No?"
"I want to see what other disasters she's capable of."
Meanwhile, across the street, Aria Langley was trying very hard not to cry in public.
She sat at a café table outside Brew Theory, a half-spilled cappuccino in front of her and her laptop bag now zipped shut with the help of a giant hairpin. Her best friend Ivy was on the phone, screaming into her ear.
"YOU WHAT?"
"I hit a man with my laptop," Aria whispered, shielding her face from onlookers. "And not just any man. The CEO. THE Adrian Westwood."
There was a pause. "Okay, back up. How did you even manage that? Did you throw it?"
"No! It just fell out of my bag and—launched. Like some possessed projectile. Ivy, it literally curved mid-air and went for him like a heat-seeking missile."
"You're cursed."
"I know."
"You assaulted a CEO on the morning of your interview. You are the definition of cursed."
Aria groaned and dropped her forehead to the table. "Gramps is going to kill me."
"Speaking of—he called me. Said your cards are still frozen?"
"I may have yelled at him last night after he set up another blind date with a dentist named something like Rohit. He does this every week, Ivy.
Every time I tell him I'm not interested, he adds a new level of drama. This time, he said if I don't at least attend the date, he'll freeze my cards."
"And you didn't?"
"I hid in the coatroom and texted the guy to fake an emergency."
Ivy cackled. "You're hopeless."
"I'm being hunted, Ivy. By my own grandfather."
Aria sat back, her eyes heavy. "I just wanted to prove I can make something of myself without getting married to some rich stranger. Instead, I end up giving a concussion to the one person who could've hired me."
Back at the Westwood building…
Julian knocked on Adrian's office door, only to find the CEO already pacing with a cold compress pressed to his head and a mood blacker than thunder.
"She's waiting downstairs."
Adrian paused mid-step. "She showed up?"
"With her bag zipped, yes."
Adrian tossed the compress aside. "Bring her up."
To be continued....