“Watch where you’re going, girl!”

The loud voice hit me at the same time as the businessman did. He crashed into my shoulder and kept walking, disappearing into the crowd in an instant.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind ripped the umbrella from my hand. My grip had been loosened by the jostle of the businessman, and the wind finished the job.

It had been the only thing saving my long blonde hair from the heavy rain, and now my umbrella moved as though on a mission to get away from me.

I tried pushing through the crowd, but the bustling group of people were far too intent on walking quickly past me. The only option I had was to stand and watch the umbrella bob higher and lower until it found itself smashed under a passing city bus in the rush-hour traffic.

I kind of knew how it felt at that moment.

But I wouldn’t give up. I never had before, and I certainly wouldn’t on such an important day. Continuing walking, I tried to get around a couple old ladies who were moving slowly along, oblivious to the weather as they chatted joyfully.

The joy that came from maintaining their grips on their umbrellas, I assumed.

Finally rounding them, I realized I was close to my destination. I could tell by the large awning covering the sidewalk and the expensive Mercedes cars lined up out front. My online research had come in handy, even if the timetable for the subway had been completely useless.

I wanted to stop and admire the view, especially the words barely visible at the distant top of the building: Pristine Group. The red and blue letters were on packaging, aircraft, websites and anything else you could imagine throughout the world, and here I was staring at them from in front of the building they called home.

Shit, I thought to myself, glancing at the cheap watch on my wrist. 7:41 a.m. I was late as hell.

The first impression I was about to make wasn’t going to be a good one. Late on the first day, looking like I had been dragged through a swimming pool on my way in.

It wasn’t at all how I had imagined this moment. Not even close.

Forcing my chin up, I walked toward the huge glass doors with as much confidence as I could fake. I kept looking straight ahead, ignoring the cackling homeless woman insulting my looks from where she was huddled under the edge of the awning.

Entering the lobby was like entering a new world.

It was even more stunning and opulent than I had imagined. The pictures of it on the internet did it so little justice that I had to wonder if I had been researching the right place.

But I didn’t have time to enjoy it. My new goal was to get to the HR office where I was supposed to spend the morning filling out forms, and that meant getting through the high levels of security.

The polished floors presented a great threat to my stability as I balanced on my heels, but I eventually made it to the security desk. “Hi,” I said, trying for a happy, excited voice but somehow landing on that of a little girl.

Without looking up, the security guard grunted something at me.

I leaned over the counter to hear him better. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You’re getting water on my computer!”

He rose quickly from his chair, covering the monitor with his arms as though it might explode. I leaned back as fast as I could, almost over-balancing so that I ended up on my ass.

You’re doing well, a mocking voice told me from the back of my mind.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It’s just that it’s been raining and – “

His glare stopped me in the middle of my speech.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m Nicole Blythe. Middle name Elizabeth.”

“Don’t need your middle name,” he said, aiming a frown at me as he sat down again.

After a few taps on his keyboard, he looked up again. “Says here you were expected between 7:15 and 7:30. It’s 7:42, so you’ve been removed from the list.”

“The list?” I could feel the panic rising even before he finished talking. “What list?”

If I was kicked off this once-in-a-lifetime internship, I wasn’t sure what I would do. Surely, being late to something once in my life wouldn’t have such dramatic consequences for my career. Would it?

“The list for a temporary pass. Without it, you can’t go upstairs. Without being on the list, you can’t get the pass.”

He was obviously getting some kind of enjoyment out of this, but I was too scared to care. My father had worked tirelessly to help me get this internship despite the fact that I hadn’t gone to Harvard, and I was about to ruin it for him before it all started.

How would I ever tell him?

“There has to be something I can do. Can I talk to the person in HR? I can’t remember their name but I have it here.”

I reached into my bag and dug around, searching desperately for my phone. “There’s no point,” the guard was saying, but I ignored him.

I couldn’t imagine this being the end, but it seemed like there was no other outcome.

Finding the phone at the bottom of my bag, I clutched it in my wet fingertips and mentally kicked myself for turning it off earlier that morning. I should have switched it to silent. Now I had to stand there and wait for it to boot up.

The security guard was obviously about to tell me to leave, but I wasn’t going to go easily. I might not have gone to the “right” college, but I had worked my ass off at the college I graduated from with a 4.0 GPA. That work wasn’t going to go to waste. Not if I could help it.

“Miss Blythe.”

I froze. That voice was one I knew well. Deep and booming, it seemed to carry throughout the giant lobby without any effort on the part of the speaker.

My mind was racing at the sound, and I closed my eyes. If only a hole would suddenly appear and swallow me up – quickly, before I had time to think about it. Or, even better, maybe I could wake up to the sound of my alarm.

Maybe this was all a nightmare, and I was still fast asleep. I wasn’t late, I was just dreaming of the worst possible situation.

But when I allowed my head to turn, I could see Devon Carell walking towards me.

The Devon Carell. The man who spent as much time on the financial TV shows as he did running one of the biggest businesses in the world, Pristine Group. I knew his opinions on just about everything from years of watching every show he was on, and now he was saying my name.

“Mr. Carell,” I gushed, nearly slipping as I turned quickly to face him.

“You’re late, Miss Blythe.”

His tone was nothing like I had heard before. There was a definite note of anger, and no beaming smile to be seen.

He still looked good, though. God, did he look good. His shoulders seemed even wider in person, spreading as though he was a football player or a boxer. They blended perfectly into arms that threatened to break open the sleeves of his perfectly fitting suit, and I knew he was hiding impressive abs underneath his dark blue shirt.

That charity calendar he had starred in was still one of my favorite possessions.

“I know, Mr. Carell, sir. I’m so sorry. I missed the first train on the subway and the second one was running late. And then it was raining and my umbrella, well, it got smashed by a bus, and – “

Devon held his hand up, obviously not interested in my ranting like a crazy person. “The internship you’re supposed to be starting has the most applicants of any in the country, and we only hire one person per year. Are you telling me we’ve hired someone who doesn’t think to leave home early enough to get here on time?”

I felt my cheeks redden, and this time it wasn’t from looking at his deep blue eyes. Suddenly, I could see why he had a reputation for not taking any crap from anyone. “I know, sir,” I said, struggling to hold eye contact in my embarrassment. “I did leave early, but not early enough.”

He looked me up and down, probably trying to decide how to get me out of his building with the least water damage. Suddenly, the idea of losing this internship before I had even started hit me hard. I wanted to crumble into a heap on the floor, but instead I tried to rally.

“Look, Mr. Carell, I promise if you give me a chance, I’ll prove I’m good enough. You obviously saw a reason to hire me, so I’ll show you why. Just one chance, please?”

The expression on his face suggested he didn’t like begging, but I didn’t have a choice. My father had been so excited when I told him I had won the single place on this internship for 2017, and I wasn’t going to let him down.

“Fine,” Devon finally said. “But you’re going to have to earn it.”

He paused, his face creasing in serious thought. He looked so intense in that moment with one big hand sliding through his thick, black hair, the other calmly resting in the pocket of his slacks. No wonder he was on TV so often – he had the looks for it. No question about that.

Finally, he spoke. Just in time, too – I was ready to beg again. “We’ve got a big meeting today at 12:30, and the caterers pulled out. You’ll need to organize food and celebratory drinks for it, and you’ve got until 11:00. If you do it, I might give you another chance.”

“Thank you so much,” I said, smiling as widely as I could. “Where should I work from?”

It sounded like a stupid question even as I said it, but I realized that far too late.

Devon had already started walking back toward the elevators when I asked, and he called back without breaking stride. “The benches around here are pretty comfortable.”

I looked around, noticing the white, cushioned benches dotted around the lobby for the first time. You can do this, I told myself.