Raymond Copeland strolled into the glass-walled building of Copeland & Co., his steps calm, his face unreadable but mildly amused.
His tall frame moved with confidence, his designer shoes making soft clicks on the polished floor. A crisp navy suit hugged his athletic figure, and a faint cologne followed behind him—a scent that spoke of wealth and quiet dominance.
Behind that calm expression, however, his mind replayed the strange but oddly entertaining encounter he'd had at the gas station earlier that morning.
That girl.
That hilarious, bold girl who had barged ahead of him at the pump, flashed him a teasing grin, and convinced him with sheer charm to let her go first.
She had called herself Venus.
"She's got fire," he murmured under his breath, allowing a rare smile to stretch across his lips.
"Good morning, Mr. Copeland," came a voice—crisp and rehearsed.
He didn't need to look to know it was Rose, his longtime personal assistant. A slim woman in her late-thirties, Rose wore her blonde hair in a tight bun, her makeup always pristine.
She was efficient, sharp, and unfortunately, more emotionally invested in him than he liked.
"Morning, Rose," he said with a nod, slipping into his sleek, modern office.
She followed, clutching a digital tablet, already rattling off the day's schedule. "You have an interview with the shortlisted candidates in thirty minutes. I've arranged coffee, and the conference room is ready."
Raymond sank into his leather chair, looking at her with a raised brow. "How many candidates?"
"Six." Rose tapped the screen. "All qualified."
"Let me see their resumes."
Rose hesitated, then handed over the tablet.
Raymond skimmed through each profile, uninterested—until he saw one passport photo that made him sit up.
There she was. Venus.
Same wide eyes, that unmistakable smirk caught even in a still image.
He blinked. What were the odds?
He read through her resume—solid academic background, lots of job hopping, no clear pattern, but her skills in communication, persuasion, and negotiation practically jumped off the page.
"Cancel the interviews," he said simply.
Rose froze. "Excuse me?"
"Hire this one. Venus... Venus Phillips."
"But—"
He looked up at her, calm but firm. "She's what we need. Bold, unpredictable, and real. Make her an offer."
Rose's jaw tightened. Her eyes darkened, but she knew better than to argue openly.
"Yes, sir," she said, lips thin.
She turned on her heel and stormed toward the waiting room.
The other five candidates sat upright in their seats, some nervously rehearsing answers, others pretending to be calm.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Rose said stiffly, "the interview has been cancelled."
A murmur of confusion broke out.
One young man blinked. "Cancelled? Why?"
"No explanation was provided. Thank you for your time."
An older woman scoffed. "I flew in from Houston for this!"
Rose offered no apology, just a thin smile, and turned away.
Back in his office, Raymond stared out the window.
His mind returned again to Venus. She had no idea what kind of door she'd walked through today.
Meanwhile, on the other side of Atlanta, Venus Phillips stood outside her beat-up car, one hand on her hip, the other holding her phone.
"Grandma, my car is officially trash," she sighed, her voice laced with humor even in the chaos.
From the other end, her grandmother's soothing voice replied, "You should've let me call that mechanic two weeks ago."
"I was trying to save money. That five hundred could buy a whole wardrobe at the thrift store."
Her grandmother chuckled. "Just get a cab. I'm praying for you."
"Thanks, Grandma. If I don't get this job, I'm starting a podcast about failed interviews."
Venus stared at the steering wheel, frustration etched across her face. She turned the key one more time, but the engine only coughed weakly before going completely silent.
"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, slamming her palm lightly against the dashboard.
She pulled her phone out of her purse and opened her ride app. Her eyes darted to the time.
8:42 AM.
Her interview was in less than twenty minutes.
As the app loaded, she muttered, "If this thing doesn't work now, I'll personally throw this phone into the Chattahoochee."
Finally, the map popped up. She tapped the "Book Ride" button and watched the spinning wheel.
"Come on, come on..." she said under her breath.
The driver details appeared: "Caleb in a black Toyota Corolla. 5 minutes away."
"Thank you, Caleb," Venus sighed in relief.
She exhaled deeply, then leaned toward her side mirror. Her reflection stared back—big brown eyes, full lips, and her naturally curly hair puffed from the humidity. She adjusted the collar of her blouse and pulled it into place.
"You got this, V," she whispered to herself, brushing a curl behind her ear.
She gave herself a wink, then grinned.
A moment later, her phone buzzed. A message from Caleb: "Arriving now."
Venus grabbed her purse, stepped out, and locked the car. Just as she turned around, a black Corolla rolled up smoothly in front of her.
The window came down, and a friendly face looked out. "Venus?"
"That's me," she smiled, opening the back door. "You're a lifesaver, Caleb. I owe you one."
Caleb chuckled. "Hop in. Let's get you where you need to go."
"We got this, girl," she told her reflection. "Let's go show them what Venus Phillips can do."
Back at Copeland & Co., Raymond checked his watch. Another meeting was waiting.
"I have to step out," he told Rose. "Forward all calls. I'll be back later."
Rose didn't meet his eyes. "Of course."
As he exited through the private back door, the glass doors at the front of the building whooshed open.
Venus stepped in.
Wearing a cream blouse tucked into a squeeze pencil skirt, but her curls now neatly pinned, she looked every bit like she belonged—even though her heart was thumping.
She didn't know yet that the man she had casually joked with this morning...
was the very man who had just made her the newest employee of Copeland & Co.