The email came like a miracle.
Amanda stared at her phone screen, her heart racing as her eyes scanned the words again and again:
We are pleased to invite you for an interview at La Mirage Restaurant, 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning…
Her jaw dropped. La Mirage wasn't just any restaurant—it was the restaurant, the kind that made magazine covers and social media reels. She almost squealed. Finally, This had to be her chance.
"Oh my God," she whispered, clutching her chest. "This is it. I finally get something. I finally get money."
Without thinking, she tapped out her reply: Thank you. I will be there.
That night, she barely slept. By morning, she was up before the alarm, fussing over outfits until she settled on something chic yet professional. Her certificates and CV were tucked neatly into her bag. She was thirty minutes early when she arrived, but better early than late.
The restaurant shimmered like something out of a dream, polished marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and fresh flowers in tall glass vases. Everything gleamed. Amanda froze in the doorway, suddenly aware of the way her shoes clicked against the floor. Everyone inside looked like they belonged, families in designer clothes lingering over breakfast, couples sipping lattes, waiters gliding by with trays of silver and china.
And then there was her.
"Good morning, ma'am. Do you have a reservation?" a waiter asked, eyes scanning her up and down.
"I.....I'm here for an interview," she replied, clutching her bag tighter.
"Interview?" He frowned, then asked, "The name of the person you're meeting?"
She gave it. He nodded stiffly, still looking skeptical.
Amanda forced a polite smile, but inside, her confidence cracked. She slipped away to the bathroom. In the mirror, she leaned forward, whispering to her reflection.
"You belong here. You're smart. You deserve this. Just breathe."
She straightened, reapplied her lip gloss, and walked out like she owned the place, even if she didn't believe it.
Minutes later, the waiter showed her to a reserved table near the window. Amanda sat, back straight, hands folded over her file. Ten minutes ticked by before he arrived.
He was older than she expected. Expensively dressed, tall, with the kind of smile that was more calculation than warmth.
"Amanda?"
"Yes, sir." She scrambled up, nerves tangling her tongue. "Good.....good morning, sir."
"Morning." He shook her hand, his eyes already doing more than a handshake should. Amanda's stomach tightened.
She sat, determined not to let the nerves show. "My name is Amanda. I'm a graduate of History and International Relations from UniLag. I am self-motivated, and I've been involved in several projects such as...."
But as she spoke, she realized he wasn't listening. His gaze drifted, leering, as though stripping her bare. He smiled to himself, and something in that smile told her this was not about her CV.
"I must confess," he interrupted smoothly, "when I put out that notice for an executive assistant, I didn't picture someone like you. You're… different."
Amanda leaned forward quickly. "Sir, I am hardworking. I don't mind the tough tasks, I am eager to learn, I..."
He chuckled, lifting a hand. "Relax. I have something better in mind. Something more… rewarding." He leaned in. "I want you to entertain me and my friends. In a personal way. Think about it before you say no."
Her chest froze. "Excuse me?"
"You're a smart girl. Don't waste yourself. Be mine, and life will be easier than you can imagine."
The shock flushed through her, then turned to anger. Amanda's voice shook, but her words were firm.
"No. I'm not selling myself. I'm smart enough to make money without that."
He smirked, unfazed, as if he had heard refusals before. "Think about it."
"I don't need to," she snapped, snatching up her bag. "Goodbye, sir."
Her heels clicked furiously as she strode out of the restaurant, fury and humiliation burning her eyes. She wasn't watching where she was going, until she slammed into someone.
"Ah! I'm so sorry," she gasped, clutching her bag tighter. She didn't even look properly at his face before rushing away, heart pounding.
She just needed to get out.