Torn (Lords of the City #1) Read Online Free PDF

for that matter, but there was wealth, seen in the Italian marble floors and walls. It was stark, like an abandoned hospital, but its minimalism was what made it striking.
    “How old are you?” I asked Peter, whose red hair was like a flame against the white. His face had the roundness of a boy still in high school, but he carried himself with a prestige I had never achieved.
    “Eighteen,” he answered. “I graduated last year.”
    “What high school?”
    He slowed his pace so that we walked side-by-side. “Not high school. College. I’m in grad school now, working on a PhD.”
    I was impressed. “So you’re like a boy genius. Are you the gatekeeper? Will you be interviewing me?” I didn’t mind working for someone so young. He was obviously well connected if he was eighteen and working on the top floor.
    “You flatter me. No, I won’t be interviewing you. I’m just an intern. My job is to greet people, not hire them.”
    “Why?” I probed. “You’re obviously a smart kid. Shouldn’t you be in a position worthier of your education? Not playing butler.”
    He stopped outside a door and ran his arm across a scanner, unlocking it. How he distinguished it from the other doors was a mystery. They were all identical. No inscriptions set one door apart from another.
    “At Stafford Scientific, everyone starts at the bottom,” Peter explained. “Mr. Stafford believes it builds loyalty.” He ushered me through the door. “Please, wait here. You can help yourself to whatever you need.”
    I stood in a suite with a view of the lake. In the kitchenette, a basket full of peanuts and fruit sat on a counter over the mini-fridge, but I wasn’t hungry. My stomach ached with apprehension. Digital assistants, butlers, and personal suites — it was all over my head, making me long for the simplicity of Thailand, especially the peace of the sea.
    “Thank you,” I said to Peter. “Good thing I’m not afraid of heights,” I joked, pointing towards the window. “I don’t think the birds even fly this high.”
    “You’re perfectly safe,” he assured me before closing the door.
    The screen on the wall in front of the leather couch came to life. “Miss Clare,” the digital assistant said. “During your interview with Mr. Stafford, there are procedures you must follow. The proper way to address him is ‘sir’…”
    “Hang on a minute,” I interrupted, my heart pounding. “I’m being interviewed by Mr. Stafford? He’s the gatekeeper?”
    “Yes. Mr. Stafford will be interviewing you today. I do not understand your gatekeeper reference, but this is his company, so he has the ultimate say on who is allowed to work here. When you stand before him, please address him as ‘sir.’ Are you wearing perfume?”
    “No,” I answered distantly. My hands were sweaty, and my mind raced. I hadn’t prepared for this. I thought I’d be meeting someone from Human Resources, not the lord of the castle. It didn’t make sense.
    “That is fortunate. He does not like perfume. If you are wearing any, I kindly ask that you use the toiletries in the bathroom to wash it off.” She continued to list how I was to behave around Mr. Stafford, but I barely listened. Instead, I was thinking of how I could present my qualifications without sounding like a newbie scientist, inexperienced and naïve.
    “Miss Clare,” Peter said from the door, joining me once again. “You okay?”
    “I think I’m going to be sick.”
    “Would you like me to call the medic?” He seemed genuinely concerned.
    “No. It’s just nerves.”
    “I understand. Mr. Stafford is intense. And strict. But he’s not cruel. There’s nothing to worry about. The interview will be quick. Mine was, at least.”
    “You interviewed with him too?”
    “Everyone does. He has the final word on every new hire and every new promotion, no matter how small or big the position is.”
    It made me feel better. I was still nervous, but I was no longer in danger of a heart