As I tried to muster up the courage to press the button, my ingenious idea seemed far, far more idiotic than it had when I’d woken up in bed this morning. I sighed, my finger hovering in midair mere inches from the doorbell. I should give this up, I thought, resigned. Go home, pour myself some wine, throw a real nice pity party... As I was about to turn around and admit defeat, the door swung open. “Mr. Black is awaiting you,” a solemn man said, his arm tucked behind his back. “He—what?” I stammered. “I didn’t even actually—” “We have been interviewing young women all day,” the man said. Is he an actual, real-life butler? I wondered, amazed. Oh my god. His tone was neutral, but I sensed that he was rolling his eyes inwardly. “Appointment or not, I presume you are here regarding the job opening. Mr. Black would like to speak with you.” I stepped into the mansion, my eyes growing wide as saucers as I took in the foyer. It was like something out of a movie. The house was basically a smaller Versailles on the outside, so I shouldn’t have been surprised, but if even just the front room was this incredible— “Is that a real Blake?”
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