How did I go from tearing apart the entire Nebula Land ride to getting a job offer with the most elite employees in all of Dreamland? This has to be some kind of payback for wasting everyone’s time with my submission.
“How?”
The vein on his forehead makes an appearance. “Do you always feel the need to ask so many questions?”
“Do you always feel the need to be evasive and curt in everything you do?”
He proves my point by remaining silent. I’m tempted to knock his head around like a busted vending machine until I get some answers.
He taps the top of the file. “Your Nebula Land submission was rather bold. Not many people dare to critique a billion-dollar investment.”
“I submitted it while I was drunk!” I blurt out.
He blinks at me. The only noise I hear is the rush of blood pounding in my ears.
Oh God. Why did I admit that?! I rub a sweaty palm down my face.
His lip curls. The look on his face makes me want to curl into a fetal position. “Will this be a habit while you’re on the clock?”
I shake my head so fast, I’m hit with a wave of dizziness. “Oh no! I rarely drink. It was a stupid idea to help me unwind—”
He lifts his hand. “Save me the monologue. I don’t care.”
Now it’s my turn to blink. Rowan might be a man of few words but they serve their purpose at making me feel like an idiot without actually calling me an idiot. It must be his superpower.
I smile to ease the tension between us. “But I’m guessing you liked my idea or else you wouldn’t be offering me a job.”
“My general feelings on the matter are irrelevant. I make decisions based on facts and years of fine-tuned expertise.”
The air escapes my lungs like a deflating balloon. Seriously, was this man not held enough as a baby? There’s no other explanation for his coldness.
That’s not fair. You’ve heard the stories about his mother…
I choke on the weird feeling squeezing my neck. “You want me to work as a Creator permanently?”
“Nothing here is permanent. Your job is contingent on your performance, so as long as it meets my standards, then you can consider yourself employed.”
Oh my God. This was definitely not a part of Claire’s plan. Self-doubt trickles in, erasing my happiness. I was supposed to submit a proposal and earn a stripe of courage, not be hired as a full-time Creator. I might be creative but I’m not that creative.
Dreamland Creators are legendary. They’ve made history for their inventions and were even invited to the White House a few years back. I haven’t earned the right to serve as part of the team. Plus, I don’t fit the typical Creator formula. They’re people who graduated from expensive universities and attended specialty internships across the globe—a mix of architects, artists, engineers, writers, and more. I’m a woman with a community college degree who works at a kid’s salon. I couldn’t work on a team filled with the best talent around the world.
There’s no way I could do this. “I’m sorry. I can’t accept your offer.”
His eyes narrow. “I didn’t ask a yes or no question.”
My jaw drops.
He slides the contract toward my side of the desk. “You can take your time and review the paperwork but you’re not leaving this office without signing the contract.”
I stare at my hands, wondering if they would fit around Rowan’s tree trunk of a neck. “This is the twenty-first century. You might be my boss but I won’t let you tell me what to do.”
“That in itself is a contradiction.”