Chapter 9
Richard
20 vouchers
The moment the last candidate left the room, I was already halfway down the corridor. I didn’t stop for a handshake or closing remarks, I shouldn’t have even been there. The intern screening was never supposed to be on my agenda–not with a day this packed.
Behind me, my Beta hustled, trying not to drop the stack of folders he’d been juggling all morning. “Sir, the car’s out front. We’ve got seven minutes before the Bramble Finance call.”
I didn’t answer. Just stepped into the sunlight and climbed into the car.
The Beta followed, already flipping pages open across his lap. “I have the briefs you need to sign before the next meeting. Also, the Henderson delegation was pushed for this screening–why attend a mere assistant interview?”
I glanced at him, flipping open a file with practiced disinterest. “Casual observation. I want to personally sign off on everyone on the team. Especially on campaign placements.”
He blinked, clearly unsatisfied. “Casual? You rearranged your whole schedule for something ‘casual‘? We moved the Henderson meeting, and now you’re nearly late for ”
I cut him off with silence, just a look and he sh
shut up immediately.
The car pulled into motion.
Then he glanced out the window, almost too casually. “Oh, that’s Miss Amelia,” he said, clearly trying to poke at something—pressing just enough to see if it would get a reaction.
I didn’t look at first. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew once I did, I wouldn’t look away.
Eventually, I glanced up. She was walking across the courtyard, squinting against the sunlight, a folder hugged to her chest. Her movements were quick and sharp, but there was a lightness to them today. Excitement, confidence, her first day.
I watched her until she disappeared behind the columns.
The Beta looked at me again, careful this time. “This wouldn’t happen to be… about her, would it?”
I didn’t respond.
He pushed further. “But if Princess Jenny were to find out-
“I’m taking an interest in young leadership on the campaign trail,” I cut in smoothly, not even bothering to hide the edge in my voice.
“That’s all.”
His stare was too knowing.
I turned my gaze back to the window. “Last night’s events were a one–time thing?”
That silenced him, good.
Because I couldn’t stop watching until the car turned the corner and Amelia was no longer in view.
Amelia
I hadn’t even taken off my shoes last night before Adam started in on me again.
“You didn’t even text me back. All night?”
“I had an interview. It ran late.”
An interview?”
Yeah, actually. And I got the job.”
He kept talking, but I tuned it out. I didn’t matter. Nothing he could say was going to touch the high I was riding
1/3
3:49 PM P
Chapter 9
This morning, I walked into the intern wing feeling proud. I’d earned this. I was ready to prove myself.
Until I saw Jason.
20 vouchers
“Surprise,” he said with a wink. “Looks like we’re teammates now.”
Apparently, the third pick dropped out last minute, and Jason–the sixth alternate–got the call. Of course he did.
The others were already mingling, trading resumes and name–dropping family members. Everyone seemed to have some kind of experience–communications coordinators, council liaisons, campaign volunteers. One girl had interned in a diplomatic office
overseas.
And then there was me.
No connections. No résumé full of perfect bullet points. Just me, trying not to sweat through my blouse.
Jason, for some reason, had decided he was now everyone’s best friend. All smiles, all charm, like he hadn’t tried to buy his way into my spot and insult me in the same breath two days ago.
He even nodded at me. “No hard feelings, right?”
gave him a flat smile. “Sure. Clean slate.” It bothered me more than I wanted to admit–how easily he pretended yesterday hadn’t happened, how quickly everyone else was falling for it. But I wasn’t going to be the one to start drama among the interns. Not on my first day.
Assignments came next. Our task? Collaborative interview projects–real ones. Assigned pairs, real responsibilities.
The coordinator read off names:
“Jason and Leah.”
“Mark and Trina.”
Then she looked down at the clipboard, frowned a little, and said, “Amelia, I’ll have something for you to start with.”
She handed me a thick stack of paper. Transcripts. “Just proofreading for now, but we’ll loop you in once more interviews roll in.”
“Of course,” I said, smiling while swallowing my disappointment.
1
I wasn’t looped in. I was sidelined.
Everyone else got to sit in on interviews, take notes, build questions. I got red pen duty and a seat in the corner. It didn’t take long to realize why. They didn’t think I was capable. Maybe because I was wolfless. Maybe because I didn’t show up with a polished, nepotistic pedigree.
Either way, they didn’t say it out loud. They just smiled politely while handing me their busywork.
Eventually, the project shifted focus–we were prepping for a high–profile interview with King Richard himself, and interns were asked to help with the event setup.
That was how I ended up placing name placards at the press table while Richard stood just twenty feet away, answering questions with a poise I couldn’t stop staring at
I’d seen interviews before, but I’d never seen this. The behind–the–scenes version. There was no teleprompter, no notes. Reporters asked hard questions and he answered them like he’d known they were coming before they opened their mouths.
Every quote was crisp. Every deflection surgical
I should have been arranging chairs.
Instead, I pulled out my notebook and started writing. Notes, observations, question formats, patterns. It was during a short break between segments–reporters buzzing quietly, Richard off to the side refilling his water. I was scribbling furiously when I heard someone clear their throat behind me
“You misspelled ‘infrastructure,” the voice said.
2/3
3:49 PM P P
Chapter 9
I froze, of course it was him.
I turned slowly, already knowing who it would be.
Richard was standing just behind my shoulder, his eyes flicking over my notebook.
“Your analysis isn’t bad,” he said casually. “But look into the South Ridge amendments. Similar topic. Disastrous execution.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I will.”
He didn’t smile. Just nodded and walked away.
I sat there stunned for a full thirty seconds before forcing myself back to work.
20 vouchers
That afternoon, the interns were treated to a team lunch–Richard joining. The supervisor called it a celebration of “a successful campaign kick–off.”
We all filed into a long private dining room. I ended up seated right next to Richard. I hadn’t planned it–I wouldn’t have dared. And it was eating away at me. We hadn’t said a single word to each other that wasn’t strictly business since the morning after the ball, and now we were shoulder to shoulder, pretending nothing had ever happened. I could feel the tension in every inch of my body, but I wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence.
The supervisor raised a glass. “To fresh minds and fierce loyalty.”
A waiter poured white wine into each of our glasses. I hesitated. I hadn’t touched alcohol since that night. My hand was halfway to the glass when I saw his.
Richard reached out and slid my glass gently away. Not harsh, not obvious. Just… decisive.
“Alcohol has no place in professional settings,” he said, voice neutral but clear. “We’ve seen how some get… restless when intoxicated.”
A few people blinked. Someone chuckled awkwardly. Jason furrowed his brow.
But I knew what he meant, and I knew exactly who he said it for.
AD
