Page 2 of Seduced By Contract

How, if they're applying for the same position as me, can they afford to dress so well? I'm poor, but I know a lot about how celebrities live. Dreaming is free.

It's because I can't afford to buy it that I know the cost of the bag the third candidate sitting to the right has on her lap.

If they're rich, what are they doing here?

The ad didn't say anything about the salary amount, although, judging by the research I did in women's chat rooms for those who have the same career I'm applying for, it must be high. I read that big companies never reveal the salary amount until you reach the final stage of the interview, which means today I'll find out if my financial problems will be partially solved or if I'll continue down the road of despair.

No, it's going to be fine. I believe in God, and He knows that the decisions I've made since Brooklyn was hospitalized are not for my benefit.

Having no false modesty, I'm not worried about my appearance. That's not why I'm anxious. I know I’m not lacking in that department, or they wouldn't have selected me, but I'm very worried about the fact that I lied on my application about speaking more than one language. I don't, but I applied anyway. I can't even understand why you'd need to be bilingual for this kind of job, as theoretically, there shouldn't be any client interaction.

On top of thislittle issuewith a second language, there's also the matter of how I found out about this job. I lied again. It wasn't a recommendation from a former employee but rather a business card that fell out of the pocket of a client whose house I cleaned.

I'm not a habitual liar, but I'm desperate. This is my last chance. Nothing I’ve tried before has been enough to prevent that horrible woman from wanting to tear our family apart.

Of course, unless the money here is equivalent to a lottery prize, it won't be enough. I'll have to keep one of my other two jobs, but at least I'll have part of the weekend free.

Looking around this opulent environment, I believe that they can't possibly pay low salaries. In the first screening, they said that only the elite of the elite visit SIN, and that's what gave me the courage to make such a drastic decision.

Inside, the law of silence must prevail—what happens in SIN stays in SIN. One day, I plan to go back to school and have a career, and then everything else will be in the past.

Furthermore, it's not manual labor like my day jobs. My back still aches from staying so late at one of my clients' houses yesterday, going up and down stairs.

I stand at the entrance to the room, feeling the eyes of the other candidates on me. I can't control my insecurity, and I give myself a once-over.

My clothes have always been cheap, all bought at department stores, and even then, only when they're on sale for over seventy percent off. Nowadays, not even that, as there's no money left.

Aside from the black dress I'm wearing, I can't even remember the last time I bought something new. I don't need new clothes, since I don't go anywhere other than work and home. I only bought this one because I wanted to look professional, given the role I'm applying for. Just in case there's anymisunderstandingon the interviewer's part.

I have much more serious things to worry about than clothes, but when I made it to the final stage of selection for this position, I remembered a phrase my stepmother always repeats: the world thrives on appearances.

People won't pity you, and they won't give you a second glance if they think you need money. I have confirmation of this right now. The secretary behind a dark wooden desk sizes me up, and for a moment, I'm certain she'll discover that my image of a confident woman is a fraud.

I mean, I don't suffer from self-esteem issues. My five feet seven inches, long brown hair, and green eyes catch attention. I know men tend to turn their heads to look when I walk down the street, but it takes me no more than ten seconds to understand that I don't belong here.

Not even as a candidate.

Don't be a coward, Madison. This isn't about you.

There's no way the salary is small, so I'll face whatever comes my way.

I nervously drum my nails on the shoulder strap of my bag, trying to estimate how many more lies I'll have to tell besides the one about being bilingual.

As many as necessary,the voice in my head warns me again.

I feel a little ashamed of claiming to speak more than one language, but I'll do everything in my power to earn more money.

The secretary gets up from behind the desk and walks toward me. My stomach churns, and a trickle of cold sweat runs down my spine.

She's going to say I'm not right for this. Everyone here is blonde and much slimmer.

Moreover, I feel like she can sense my desperation and need.

I also know from the way she looks at me that she understands that the clothes I wear don't match those of the other candidates.

Screw it. I came here because I was called, and I won't back down in any way.

I raise my chin, refusing to be intimidated.

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