She Mistook the Billionaire for a Pervert and Slapped Him — Not Knowing He Was Her Interviewer
Emily Parker was running on nerves, hope, and a single cup of cheap instant coffee. Today was supposed to be the day — the day she might finally secure a job that could change everything for her and her little girl.
She arrived at the upscale SkyTower building thirty minutes early, heels clicking on marble floors gleaming like mirrors. Before heading up to the 54th floor for her interview, she stopped by the café in the lobby — partly because she needed caffeine, mostly because she needed to breathe.
She ordered a cappuccino and tried to smooth down the wrinkles of her thrift-store blazer. To blend in here, she would need a miracle.
“Order #52!” the barista called.
That was her.
Emily turned, picked up her drink, and exhaled in relief.
But just as she relaxed, she felt something… odd behind her.
A faint tug at the fabric of her dress.
Her spine stiffened.
She whipped her head around — and saw a tall, sharply dressed man in a navy suit… touching the back of her dress.
Or rather — pressing something on it.
The café noise faded. Adrenaline surged like fire through her veins.
“HEY!” Emily slapped his hand away — and before she could think—
SMACK!
Her palm struck his cheek with a sound that echoed through the entire café.
The room fell silent.
The man jerked back slightly, eyes wide — handsome features frozen in stunned surprise.
Emily, breathing fast, stared at him — and then at what was stuck to her dress. A bright red sticker with bold white letters:
THANK YOU
Oh no.
Her stomach dropped.
“I— I’m so sorry,” she stammered, mortified. “I thought you—”
“That I was harassing you?” His voice was calm. Too calm. “I noticed the sticker earlier and tried to help. Someone must have placed it there as a prank when you weren’t looking.”
Emily’s face burned hotter than the café espresso machine.
The man rubbed his cheek lightly, still looking at her — not angry… just amused.
“Next time,” he said, “maybe ask first. Slap second.”
Emily wanted to disappear on the spot. Preferably under the floor. Or into the coffee grinder.
“I’m really, really sorry,” she blurted, grabbing her drink and nearly sprinting away.
She just slapped a stranger.
A very attractive stranger.
In public.
And now she was late.
Great start to the day, Emily.
By the time she reached the reception desk on the 54th floor, her breathing had not recovered.
“Emily Parker. I have an interview for the Executive Assistant position at 8:30,” she said, trying not to sound like she had just survived a battle.
“Of course,” the receptionist smiled. “Mr. Cole is expecting you.”
Emily nervously sat in the waiting area, clutching her folder like a life raft.
You can do this, she repeated in her mind.
Just forget about the slap. Pretend it never happened.
A moment later, she was called into the office.
She inhaled deeply, turned the handle—
And froze.
Standing there, behind an imposing modern desk, was the man she slapped.
Perfect suit.
Sharp jawline.
Blue eyes that could cut glass.
The red mark on his cheek was still faintly visible.
He looked at her with a slow, devastatingly knowing smile.
“Ms. Parker,” he said smoothly. “We meet again.”
Oh.
No.
No.
No.
No.
Kill me now.
Ethan Cole — billionaire founder of Cole Industries — was her interviewer.
Emily’s soul left her body.
“I— You— That— Oh my gosh,” she babbled like a malfunctioning robot. “Please let me just— crawl out the window. I can’t—”
To her shock, Ethan chuckled. A warm, deep sound that only made her more embarrassed.
“No need to escape,” he said. “Business first. Slapping later.”
Emily shut her eyes. Then forced them open because strong women did not internally combust.
She sat.
He sat.
Her heart refused to act normal.
Ethan scanned her résumé, fingers tapping lightly on the folder.
“You’re a single mother,” he noted gently. “Your daughter is six?”
“Yes,” Emily said, voice steadying. “Lily. She’s my world.”
“And you’ve been working three part-time jobs.”
“Yes.”
“Why apply here?”
“Because I’m tired of surviving,” she said quietly. “I want to build a life my daughter can be proud of. And I can handle anything— I have handled everything. I just… need a chance.”
Ethan observed her for a long moment — not judgmental, just thoughtful.
Then his eyes flicked to the side —
“To be fair,” he added, “I should confess something.”
Emily blinked. “What?”
He smirked.
“I didn’t just remove that sticker.”
He reached into his pocket and held up…
A second sticker.
White circle.
Bold red letters:
NICE TRY
Emily nearly fell out of her chair.
“You— You did that on purpose!?”
He shrugged casually. “I wanted to see how you’d react under stress.”
“That was not stress,” she said, horrified. “That was trauma.”
“You handled it,” he replied. “Aggressively.”
Her jaw dropped. He was teasing her.
And she didn’t know whether to scream or laugh.
“Despite your… enthusiasm,” Ethan continued, “you’re confident, outspoken, and fiercely protective. Traits I value greatly.”
Emily stared. “Are you saying—?”
“I’m offering you the job.” He stood and extended his hand. “Executive Assistant to the CEO. Full benefits. High salary. Flexible hours for your daughter.”
Emily couldn’t breathe for a moment.
This was real.
Her eyes burned with tears she refused to let fall.
“Thank you,” she whispered, shaking his hand.
Ethan didn’t let go quickly.
His voice warmed.
“And Emily?” he said softly.
“Yes?”
“Let’s both agree to no more slapping in the workplace.”
Her cheeks turned the color of strawberries.
“No promises,” she muttered — then slapped a hand over her mouth.
Ethan laughed again — and it was… genuinely beautiful.
As Emily left the building, her phone buzzed.
A text from Lily:
Mommy!! Did you get the job??? 💖
Emily typed back with shaking fingers:
Yes, baby!!! We did it!!!
She spun around once, giddy with joy.
But when she glanced up… she froze again.
Ethan was standing on the second-floor balcony of the atrium — looking right at her.
He gave a small salute and—
Held up his phone.
A message appeared on Emily’s screen:
Next time, I expect a handshake… not a slap 😉 —E.C.
Emily’s stunned shock melted into laughter that bubbled out uncontrollably.
Maybe — just maybe — this was not only a new beginning…
…but the start of something far more unpredictable.
Far more exciting.
Something she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.
Hope.