crave | 16+

PROLOGUE

4 YEARS AGO

JOSIE

SIX SETS OF EYES stare at me. They're all dark and intimidating. All of them belong to men too so that explains part of it. The silence rings in my ears and my sweaty palms already tell my mind everything I need to know. They all look like serial killers, for crying out loud. I look up again to see the one sitting in the middle with a drunk smile on his lips. As if he can smell the nervousness on me and he finds it amusing. What an ass. 

None of them say anything, they just all sit there staring at me as if I'm a painting at the Louvre. I clear my throat and the one in the middle tilts his head a bit waiting in anticipation like a giddy child. Funny enough, the one to his left seems to have the same reaction. He looks way younger than the other two though. He has blonde-ish dreadlocks and isn't wearing a suit like the rest.

"Are the 3 of you related somehow?" I finally ask, trying to break the ice. The one sitting to the right from the one in the middle doesn't seem to find my question amusing at all.

"Is it because we're all black?" he retorts back and I feel my cheeks ignite with embarrassment almost immediately. The one in the middle brings his hand up to his mouth in a poor attempt to try and hide the smile on his lips.

"N-no sir! I was just wondering," I quickly reply. Faster than my mind would have liked me to. "I'm sorry for assuming, I'm just nervous."

"Professional people know how to act even though they're nervous," the man quacks and I try my best to swallow my tears.

"Malik," the one in the middle sing-songs in a tone that indicates pity, but Malik doesn't seem to back down that easily.

"No, if she can't handle to hear it, she certainly won't be able to work for Mr. Christ. Look at her; she looks like she's afraid of her own shadow," Malik says to the one in the middle and my head simply bounces back to the one in the middle waiting for him to reply to Malik. He doesn't. He stays silent, acting like the cat got his tongue. "Think about it, Elijah. Would you let her be in the same room as Mr. Christ? She'd crack in under 2 minutes," Malik continues.

My rage almost spills out of me. How dare he corner me like this, at some poor attempt of it being a job interview. I look between all 3 of them, wondering if this job really is worth being sat here having to listen to them speaking about me—insulting me—as if I'm not sitting on the other side of the desk. I sigh and pray a quick prayer in my head, before looking straight at Malik readying myself to be escorted out of this huge building.

"I believe nervous was the wrong word to use. I suppose flabbergasted– no, dumbfounded is a better use, yes? I've met rich pricks who believe they can speak to anyone the way they wish to because of their net worth, what car they drive in, how they're able to skip any line in front of the club, or simply the people they sleep with, but never have I met a more arrogant asshole than you," I say all in one breath leaving no room for regret.

Malik's eyes almost bulge out of his sockets and he leans back in his chair almost as if he's reading himself for a strip show. The motion alone almost has me dreaming about  ripping my own hair out. "Ever since I stepped into this very big and very empty office, you've done nothing but annihilate me, because of what? I'm having a human moment, sitting in front of 3 men who apparently can do nothing but gawk at a lady trying to earn some money?"

I stand up grabbing my purse. "Well let me tell the 3 of you something. You can all take the job offer, curl it together and shove it up each other's asses. I don't need this damned job." I turn around and start walking toward the door. All I can hear is my heart beating in my ears. Bile runs up my throat and I almost can't believe I just did that. It isn't until my hand is on the door handle, I hear someone clapping behind me.

I'm almost tempted to turn around and simply flip whoever is clapping at me off, but to not prove Malik right, I sigh and slowly turn myself around knowing my face is probably fuming with anger. To my surprise they're all clapping. Even the one with dreadlocks. I look at them all with confusion obviously laced between my facial expressions.

"I must say, I'd almost lost hope in you. 'Till you opened that big mouth of yours. Congratulations, miss Moore" says the one in the middle: Elijah. "The job is yours. If you still want it, of course."

His smug attitude doesn't go unnoticed. I stand still for what seems like a million years just going through everything that happened over the last few minutes. "I'm sorry," I say in a breathy laugh.

"Take your time," Elijah replies and my eyes spring up to him. He looks to be enjoying this. My fist is basically begging me to let it collide with his face.

"As I was about to say," I continue. "This sadistic Mr. Christ tasked the 3 of you to provoke any interviewers and the one who actually had the self-respect to stand up for themselves got the job?"

They all nod.

I scoff. "He's crazy"—I look around. Then I start walking around simply chewing on the insanity of this interview—"your boss, I mean. I can't wait to see what he looks like. I really hope his tasks match his face." I turn to them. Knowing they are simply the messengers, makes me feel much more comfortable saying basically whatever my heart desires. "Did you guys know there's a rumour that he killed his father and took over this?" I say pointing my hands to the ceiling.

They all really seem to be enjoying this.

"But I'm sure that's something you all know. Jesus Christ–" I stop myself to laugh a little. "His name is quite literally a whole religion. How much do you 3 want to bet he thinks he's a dear God?" I shake my head, walking back to the chair I sat in at the start of this interview. My posture is a bit slumping. Very not professional. "God," I finish off. "Well, I'd love the job. When do you think I'll get to meet the owner of all this?"

For some reason my eyes land on Elijah after I ask my question. He gives a dangerous smirk that makes me sit up straighter.

"You just did," he says leaning back, holding his head in his hand.

I choke on a profanity. "What?" I ask.

He looks down at my job application in front of him, then looks back up at me. "Josephine," he starts, using my full name. I cringe at the sound of it. Only my father calls me that. I even wrote Josie on my application. "I'd like you to meet Malik Christ, my big brother, and Zakaria Christ, my younger brother, both CFO's. My name is Elijah Christ, CEO and founder. Or as you introduced me, the crazy boss who murdered his father and took over all this."

"Oh my G–"

"Kristen will show you to your office. Are you familiar with Microsoft's software?" he interrupts me and all I can do is nod. "Great. We're glad to have you." He nods and as if on cue I raise from the chair and almost run toward the door. I wrap my hand around the handle and the last thing I hear before leaving the office is,

"She's perfect."
It's Zakaria that says this.

. . .
WE BALLING