Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others-Chapter 35: The Job Offer

"This is absurd! The dress is torn anyway!" I snapped, my voice rising in frustration.

How can he want me to pay with interest when the dress is no longer a dress but a rag?!

Niklaus’s gaze flickered to the slit in my dress, darkening slightly. Something about that look made my skin prickle.

"It was delivered to you in perfect condition. Any damage is your responsibility," he said evenly, but there was an unmistakable sharpness to his tone.

You’re a monster. A cold, calculated, heartless—

"You’re a cruel businessman," I muttered, crossing my arms, trying to shield myself from the weight of his gaze.

His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. "And you’re not going to the US. If you try, I’ll sue you."

The words didn’t register at first. My mind lagged a few seconds behind, as if trying to decode some foreign language.

Wait. What?

My stomach plummeted. My fingers went numb.

"You’re joking, right?" I asked, but the tremble in my voice betrayed me.

"Hardly," he replied, his tone deadly serious. "The dress you wore cost thirty grand, with a 5% weekly interest until the debt is cleared."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

No. No, that can’t be right.

"N-No way. It was six grand, Mr. Hathaway. I heard it directly from Jared!"

Niklaus’s expression hardened like carved stone. "You remember his name?"

Oh. Shit.

I blinked rapidly, scrambling to cover my slip. "Not exactly, but—that’s not the point! You’re trying to scam me!"

He scoffed, eyes gleaming with something wicked. "That’s a massive insult to a legitimate businessman like me."

"Legitimate?" I shot back, my voice rising. "Then why are you making fraudulent deals?"

He leaned in, close enough that I could smell the crisp notes of his cologne—dark spice and something utterly intoxicating. His voice was measured, but icy. "Yesterday, before I could finalize the payment, Mr. Lawrence informed me that the 80% discount on the dress had been withdrawn. The offer had expired."

Liar. Liar. Liar.

"You paid before we left," I bit out, my hands curling into fists. "And who even gives an 80% discount? What kind of business are you running?"

Niklaus smirked, completely unfazed. "Regardless, you received the dress, didn’t you?"

I slumped in my seat, staring blankly ahead.

Thirty thousand dollars. With interest.

My head spun. I couldn’t even wrap my mind around that number.

"But you can take your time," he added smoothly, his voice dripping with mock reassurance.

I straightened, grasping at any last shred of control. "We didn’t sign a contract, so—"

"Oh, but there are tags and receipts," he interrupted, his grin razor-sharp. "Give up, Hermia."

I let out a frustrated sigh, my shoulders slumping. "How am I going to fix this mess?"

Niklaus said nothing, but his gaze lingered on me, unreadable. Like he was waiting. Or calculating.

Then he spoke. "I learned you just graduated," he said, almost casually, as if testing the waters.

My heart stilled.

I turned my head sharply. "Did you have me looked up?"

He didn’t even hesitate. "Do you want a job?"

I blinked, taken aback. "Why are you doing all this?" I asked, my voice smaller than I intended. It trembled with the weight of my emotions.

His answer was simple. Devastating.

"Because I can’t let you go."

The words hit like a physical blow.

He couldn’t let me go.

Me. A nobody to him.

Yet my family could—they cast me out like yesterday’s trash.

I tried to stay composed, but it happened before I could stop it. The tears started small—silent sniffles, a muttered excuse about dust or lack of fresh air. But then the dam broke.

I sobbed uncontrollably, my chest heaving as all the fear, the exhaustion, the anger I had buried for so long came rushing out.

Niklaus sat stiffly, clearly unprepared for this. His hands hovered awkwardly, like he wanted to do something—comfort me, maybe—but didn’t know how.

Through my hiccupping cries, the words spilled out, each one more frantic than the last. "I’m hated. I’m broke. I’m tired." My voice cracked. "I’m scared and angry. I’m alone. And now..." I clenched my fists, shaking with fury. "Now you’re here, scamming me too!"

The accusation rang so loudly that even Steffon, who was focused on driving, stifled a chuckle.

Niklaus bit the inside of his lip.

And suddenly—just as abruptly as it started—my crying stopped.

I wiped my face with my sleeve, my mind switching gears in an instant. "Can we bargain the interest amount?" I asked, my voice still thick from sobbing.

"No," Niklaus replied immediately.

I hiccupped, narrowing my eyes. "I could sue you."

He leaned back, completely unbothered, and let out a soft laugh. "Yes, you could. But you won’t."

I stared at him, affronted. "And why not?"

His smirk was maddening. "Because even if you did, you’d fail miserably. You’d end up owing even more, with increased payments required immediately. I have the best lawyers money can buy."

I glared at him, my lower lip trembling. "You’re so ruthless," I muttered.

His expression softened—just slightly. "And you fight well." His voice was quieter now, lower. "I like that about you."

The air between us thickened. I swallowed hard.

Then, he shattered the silence. "I’ll give you a job."

I blinked at him, confused. "I’ve never worked before," I admitted. "I just graduated."

"That’s irrelevant," he replied smoothly. "I’m taking a chance on you. Giving you an opportunity—one that will help you pay me back."

My stomach clenched. So... I wasn’t leaving.

I turned my gaze toward the window, finally realizing that we were still driving.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice wary.

"He’s been driving in circles," Niklaus said, casting a glance at Steffon in the front seat.

I frowned. "Burning fuel?! That’s wasteful!"

Niklaus smirked, clearly amused. "That’s not an issue you need to concern yourself with. Now, where are you going?"

I hesitated before answering. "Weetway Housing."

Niklaus glanced at Steffon, who nodded and adjusted our route.

"Weetway Housing it is," Niklaus murmured.

A silence settled between us.

Then, he spoke again. "What do you plan on doing?"

I turned my head, arching a brow at him. "What job are you offering?"

’As close to me as possible,’ I could almost feel him thinking. His gaze darkened slightly.

But instead of saying that, he pressed his lips together and said, "We’ll continue this conversation on Monday morning—when you show up at the office."

I exhaled slowly. My mind was already racing.

This wasn’t over. Not even close.