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Mr. whatever-his-name-is is real, and it looks like he's going to be driving me to my new place of employment.
A thought vaguely passes through my mind that maybe I should be concerned about the odd nature of all of this. I'm getting into a car with a man I don't know. I don't even know his name, and I don't know where he's taking me either. He claims I'm going to be his employer's assistant, yet I don't even know who this employer is.
It's official. Iamcrazy. Who gets in a vehicle with such vague details and trusts a stranger like this?
A desperate woman willing to take her chances on anything. That's who.
I'm silently praying that this is all legit. When I look up, the man's eyes catch mine in the rearview mirror.
I blink when I suddenly notice that peculiar color of his eyes. They're a startling shade of gray, like gunmetal, but they almost seem to glow.
"Who—?" I start to ask, but he anticipates my question and answers before I get the words out.
"James," he tells me his name. "James Peterson."
His eyes flick back to the road. "I'm taking you to Argyle Incorporated. You'll be working for Mr. Argyle."
My mouth falls open. "Argyle Incorporated?" I ask incredulously, sure that I must not have heard him correctly.
Of course, I know the place. It's the building with the biggest high rise in the city, and the owner of the company is insanely rich.
I let out an incredulous laugh. I must have misheard him. He can't be telling me he picked a random girl off the street to be this guy's assistant.
The man nods his head without ever taking his eyes off the road.
A shiver runs up my spine and I feel butterflies of panic take flight in my empty stomach. "Look, Mr. Peterson," I begin, "I'm very grateful for the opportunity, but I'm pretty sure I'm not qualified to be the assistant to the most powerful man in the city."
Mr. Peterson doesn't say anything for a long moment. I'm starting to wonder if maybe he's going to agree with me when he finally speaks.
"I think you're exactly what Stephan needs," his voice is slow and contemplative, and his tone only serves to confuse me more.
Stephan.
Why does hearing that name send a shiver up my spine?
So that's Mr. Argyle's first name.
I'm sure it's readily available out in the public, but I never would have known it. I don't really read papers or stay up on Forbes' list of most successful people.
Silence drips between us for a few minutes as I try to process everything. This whole situation is just too bizarre. It's too good to be true, and I can't help feeling wary.
"You know, I could have taken a cab and gotten there this morning if you'd told me where I was supposed to be reporting to," I offer, thinking once again that it's strange that the head of human resources showed up to personally drive me—a supposed measly personal assistant—to work on my first day.
But of course, what do I know about these big corporations? Maybe this is the standard procedure for new employees.
And see, the fact that I don't even know these things only highlights the truth that I know I'm not qualified for this job.
James barks out a laugh like I've said something hilariously funny.
I just blink at him, still a bit thrown by how bizarre this entire situation is.
My cheeks heat as I explain, "I just meant you didn't have to go to all this trouble just for me. I'm pretty familiar with the city, and I could have found my way to the office without you having to take time out of your day to come get me."
James finally sobers, and I feel his eyes flicking up to settle on me in the rearview mirror.
My eyes meet his peculiar silver ones, which are serious when he says, "Oh, but I did. Mr. Argyle wouldn't have it otherwise."
I blink again at his strange phrasing, my brow furrowing.
