"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
-Closing Time, Semisonic-
The suitcases were stowed away carefully in the storage cupboard and I finished setting up the kitchen. The comfortable sofa was a blessing as I sat on it to admire my surroundings. This two-bedroom apartment I found after months of searching was not the best, but it was definitely beautiful. For someone who just moved into her first house alone, this place seemed divine. Whatever the case, I'm finally glad to have moved out of my uncle's place. The nightmare has ended. It's a different city, a different house, and a new life. Sometimes I wonder how I mustered up the courage to get myself to reach here. A few years ago, just the thought of being free used to seem like a mere fantasy.
The bruise on my neck was fading, I noticed as I wrapped the scarf around it. However, the disgusting hickeys lining my shoulder were prominent. After last night, I cannot bring myself to cry anymore. I feel pain, but I've cried too much already. I curse the day my parents died, and the day I survived. My uncle took me in at the age of 5, and the nightmare began soon after. The abuse developed over time, from the occasional slap to a few broken ribs. But, as the days passed and his son grew up, I cowered in fear every night, hoping he doesn't take it too far today. The first time he forcefully held me down to kiss me, I screamed and thrashed around, hoping someone would stop him. They ignored my cries. Yesterday, however, he had already tied me to the bed, and I was weak since my last proper meal was a few days ago. He groped me as I recoiled, screaming out for him to stop, begging for someone else to stop him. Eventually he was too drunk to continue and had to leave. But how long do I let this continue? How long do I live in fear that one day he'll go too far, and I'll be violated beyond my worst imagination? I had to put my plan in motion. Soon.
It wasn't an easy journey from there. I had worked in a few diners to earn a decent amount of money which I saved diligently. Our previous housekeeper, Mrs. Brown was an amazing help to me. She knew all about my condition and was fired for trying to explain my uncle what he was doing was wrong. But she reached out to me soon after and told me about getting in touch with an acquaintance who could get me a house and arrange a job for me as well in a different city. Then it was just a matter of time.
I bought my ticket and packed all my belongings, which barely consisted of two suitcases. I arranged a flight late at night, and when my uncle and Michael were both drunk and passed out, I finally made it through the front door. Not to go to school or groceries, but to my freedom.
I could never afford an entire place on my own so Mrs. Brown's friend arranged for me to live here, where the landlord would soon arrange for a roommate for me. It really didn't bother me, since the only thing on my mind was securing a job and making a life of my own. I have to make this second chance at life count.
I stood in front of Knight Industries; my head held high but my confidence wavering. I've never sat for an interview before, and I had no idea what to say or do. I know I have to have a little more faith in myself if I am to be living alone, but it seems difficult to survive in the real world.
I straightened out my black skirt, which I had paired with a black blouse. Mrs. Brown had suggested to keep a few buttons at the top open because according to her my chest is quite blessed. Sometimes she is like a strict mother, and sometimes she is like a girlfriend who you could take to parties. However, she's all I have and I'm really lucky to have her as a friend in my life. I untied my hair and let the curls fall to my waist, feeling a bit more confident since I definitely look like a secretary.
I realized how hopelessly wrong I was when I walked into the building. Everyone here was gorgeous, their skin practically glowing. Is this a criterion they have for hiring people? I really do not glow. Am I even going to be considered?
The receptionist pointed towards the elevators and said 12 when I asked her about the interviews. It seemed that as the elevator had been going up, my confidence had decreased further.
Everyone in the waiting room looked highly professional, and again, they were all stunning.
Apparently, competition makes people strive for victory.
I felt like running back home. With the small amount of courage remaining in me, I took a seat and nervously tapped my fingers on my thighs, smoothing over all imaginary creases.
"Valentina Fontaine?" someone called out my name and I stood up.
"Come along with me, please," the lady smiled at me. I followed her into the corridor.
"Um-this may be a weird question, but I have no one else to ask," I said, nervously, walking along with her. She stopped before a wooden office door and looked at me, assuring me to go on.
"Okay uh-is being pretty a criterion? I mean, everyone I've met in this office till now, including you, you're all quite gorgeous. Me, uh-not so much. But I really need this job. So do I maybe still have a chance?" I asked her, and she looked slightly surprised before chuckling.
"You have a chance just like anyone else. Just give your best in there," she reassured me, asking me to follow her inside as she opened the door.
The office inside was huge, and definitely beautiful. The big glass window had a magnificent view, and the black tones in the office were somewhat soothing, but the vibe in here was quite serious.
A man stood in the middle of everything, and the moment I saw him, it felt like time had stopped. I've never met any formidable men in life, but this man, was beyond stunning. He was prominently taller than me, and impossibly built. His white shirt perfectly clung to his muscles and his chest, and further to his toned stomach.
He repeatedly ran his fingers through his dark black hair, and it still looked amazing. This man, standing before me was the epitome of handsome. If the lady besides me had not introduced him as Mr. Knight, I would have definitely thought he was some model. Now don't ask me why I would think a model is standing here in the office during an interview for secretaries. My mind was not in the right wavelength after seeing him. Was he really my boss?
Xavier
Frustration. That's what I felt. Deep frustration. I don't understand why Martha wants to quit her job just because she's expecting. She's been my secretary for 6 years, and she used to work for my father right before that too. I understand she married late and is having a baby now, but I offered to build a goddamn nursery in the office, yet she won't stay.
This morning has been a disaster, with plastic blonde women throwing themselves at me, trying to tell me they'll sleep with me if they get the job. As if I was ever hiring any of them. Women may have been all I thought about before becoming the owner of Knight Industries, in my early years. But I'm completely focused on my job now.
My mother keeps indicating this is the time when I'm supposed to meet the one. I, however, doubt that will ever happen. Every woman I've ever met, except Martha of course, has made it clear they aim to get into my bed and then definitely my bank account. They have no sense of character, and I could never see myself spending my life with them. Do I really need someone in my life? I mean, I'm doing splendid on my own. I don't have a reputation of a playboy like the other young CEO's and I'm definitely not approachable. I prefer it that way.
The door opened and Martha came in, with the next blonde plastic I was supposed to interview. The first thing I noticed was brown hair, oh wait so she's a brunette plastic. Hurray. But the moment my eyes landed on her face, I nearly forgot how to breathe. Such innocence, she was beautiful. Her big brown eyes looked like they've never seen the world. Her long lashes framed her eyes and she nervously bit her plump red lips. In that very moment, I was reminded of my preference for the colour black, because she looked absolutely stunning in her black pencil skirt and blouse. I wonder how it would feel to have her impossibly close to me, her beautiful eyes looking into mine. Martha snapped me out of my trance.
"Please, have a seat," I said, gesturing her to the chair. Martha seemed surprised at my polite remark since she knew how frustrated I was with the interviews. The beautiful woman sat opposite me and smiled, and that small smile almost took the life out of me.
"What is your name?" I asked, curious to hear what this angel sounded like.
"Valentina, sir. Valentina Fontaine," she stated in confidence, and her sweet voice made my heart stop for a moment.
"Ms. Fontaine, why do you want this job?" The answer to this question is really crucial to me. Since the interviews started, all the answers to this tell me how I'm the best and they'll be lucky to work for me. I want to know exactly how Valentina thinks.
"I would like to be honest with you. This is my first ever job interview. I've been in this city for a week and left my old life behind to start a new one. I want this job not just for the money, I want this job so I can prove to myself that I can survive alone. I need to succeed at this new life, because I've worked terribly hard for this second chance. I cannot guarantee you that I'll be perfect for this job. But I'm certain I can give it my best. I need this job for your guidance. I need it to believe in myself." She finished confidently, looking at me with a fierce look in her eyes.
Even though I met her merely a few minutes ago, I felt a strong sense of pride in me after listening to her words. Martha beamed at her with happiness, and she probably understood that Valentina was the best candidate for the job so far. She looked at me confidently, her head held high. Her eyes scanned mine for approval, but suddenly I saw a flicker of fear in them.
The brown eyes I was getting lost in from the moment I met her were swirling with uncertainty, fear and insecurity. Does she really not know how amazing her composure is? She looked down at her file and bit her soft lip anxiously, her dark brown curls framing the sides of her face delicately.
"I'm sorry if I've said too much. I just wanted to explain how much I require this job. I can understand if you don't want-" she begins to apologize.
"I want you," I blurted out, before I could comprehend what I was going to say. Martha looked startled and Valentina tilted her head in confusion at my sudden statement. I cleared my throat.
"I mean. For the job. You're hired. Can you start from tomorrow, Ms. Fontaine?" The hint of excitement in my own voice surprised me to an extent.
"Oh, thank you Mr. Knight," her beautiful smile was tugging at my heart as we both stood up and I extended my hand. Her delicate, soft hand met mine and our eyes met. The intensity of that moment made it extremely difficult for me to not pull her close to me and embrace her in my arms. What the fuck is wrong with me? How is it that this girl has me thinking about situations I was just deciding I do not need any more in life? Martha congratulated her and informed her that she will be training Valentina for a week.
I watched as she walked out of the office, barely able to contain her excitement and happiness. Her unbelievable innocence is urging me to protect her, no matter what.
Valentina Fontaine.
It should be interesting getting to know you.