THIRTY-SIX

"I'll call you back. Yeah, later," Johnson hung up and turned to Amanda.

"Why did you bring that woman here?"

Amanda replied, "Chill, she had something important to discuss with you, that's why I brought her. Besides, I owe her one, so I couldn't help but do her the favor. And since she said it's something that'll help your business, I figured it wasn't a bad idea to hear her out."

Johnson raised an eyebrow, "What does a stranger want to tell me about my own company?"

Amanda simply shrugged, "I don't know, but it won't hurt to listen."

Johnson replied, "Taylor might think something else is going on, whereas I have no connection with that lady."

Amanda retorted, "Why would you bring that up in the first place? And your private matter has nothing to do with Lyra by the way."

Johnson shook his head,

"I'm going to hear Lyra out, but you shouldn't be bringing strangers into my house."

Amanda rolled her eyes and said, "You're such a pest," before leaving the room.

****

Lyra walked into Johnson's study, her head throbbing with pain. Johnson was sitting behind his desk, scrolling through his computer. She greeted him with a simple "hi", and he gestured for her to take a seat.

Johnson's study was the epitome of a modern-day CEO's workplace. The study was situated on the second floor of his mansion, accessible via a flight of stairs that led up from the ground floor. The stairs were made of polished mahogany wood, with a matching banister on one side. The walls were painted in a pale shade of cream, and the floor was covered in a plush Persian rug that muted the sound of footsteps. The study was a rectangular room with two windows on the far wall that overlooked the front yard of the mansion. The windows were floor-to-ceiling and were draped with sheer white curtains that filtered the sunlight, casting the room in a soft glow.

The focal point of the study was Johnson's oak wood desk. It was a large, imposing piece of furniture that occupied the center of the room. The desk was adorned with an antique lamp, stacks of papers, and a sleek black computer. Behind the desk was a large bookshelf that stretched from one end of the room to the other. The bookshelf was filled with books on business, finance, and politics, and a few family photos. There was also a small bar cart in one corner of the room, stocked with various types of liquor, wine, and mixers.

The room had a high ceiling, and the walls were lined with paintings and sculptures. A large painting of Johnson hung above the bookshelf, depicting him in a suit with a stern expression on his face. The lighting in the room was subdued, with a few spotlights aimed at the paintings and sculptures, casting shadows in the corners of the room.

The study was also equipped with a sound system that played classical music softly in the background. There was a comfortable leather sofa and armchair in one corner of the room, with a coffee table and a few magazines scattered on it. The seating area was positioned to face the windows, providing a view of the front yard and the driveway.

The room was well-ventilated, and the air smelled of freshly brewed coffee and leather. The study was Johnson's sanctuary, a place where he could retreat and focus on his work. It was a reflection of his personality - organized, efficient, and elegant.

As Lyra walked into the room, she took in the surroundings, admiring the polished wood and the artwork that adorned the walls. The room had an air of power and sophistication, and she felt a sense of awe as she sat down in front of Johnson's desk. The soft lighting, the classical music, and the scent of leather and coffee all combined to create an atmosphere of tranquility and calm. It was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the Triony offices, where noise and chaos reigned supreme.

Johnson's study was a room that exuded wealth, power, and refinement. It was a testament to his success, and Lyra couldn't help but feel intimidated by its grandeur. She knew that she had to tread carefully and choose her words wisely, for this was a man who commanded respect and was used to getting his way.

Johnson stood up from his chair and walked towards the small refrigerator in the corner of his study. He opened the door and scanned the shelves for something to offer Lyra. After a moment, he grabbed a glass and a carton of orange juice. He took the glass and placed it on the counter before pouring the orange juice into it.

Lyra watched him intently as he poured, noticing how his arm muscles flexed slightly under the fabric of his shirt. She couldn't help but admire his physique. As he finished pouring, he closed the carton and placed it back into the refrigerator. He turned around and walked towards her, holding out the glass.

"Here you go," he said, offering her the glass of orange juice.

Lyra reached out and took the glass from him, feeling the coolness of the glass against her fingertips. She brought the glass to her lips and took a sip, feeling the tangy sweetness of the juice fill her mouth. She wincing slightly, not used to the sourness of the juice.

Johnson noticed her reaction and frowned slightly. "You seem like you shouldn't have been discharged," he said, observing the bandage on her head.

Lyra touched the bandage lightly and shrugged. "It's just a minor injury. I couldn't afford to stay in the hospital for too long," she explained, feeling a twinge of discomfort as she tilted her head to take another sip of the juice.

Johnson studied her for a moment, taking in the way she held herself, the way she spoke, the way she drank the juice. He couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue and curiosity about her. She seemed like a woman with a purpose, someone who knew what she wanted and was determined to get it.

"Well, what is it that you wanted to discuss with me?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Lyra took a deep breath, feeling a surge of nervousness coursing through her. She knew that what she was about to say could either make or break her chances of getting a job in Johnson's company.

"I wanted to apologize for overhearing your phone conversation the other day," she began, looking at him earnestly. "It wasn't intentional."

Johnson nodded, his eyes searching hers. "Go on," he said, his tone neutral.

Lyra cleared her throat and continued. "I work for Triony," she said, watching his expression carefully.

Johnson's eyes narrowed slightly, and Lyra could see the suspicion flickering in his gaze. "Did the Triony brothers send you here to spy on me for them?" he asked sharply.

Lyra shook her head vehemently. "No, no, that's not the case at all," she said quickly. "In fact, I hate them. I only took the job because it was the best offer I had at the time."

Johnson raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what is it that you want from me?" he asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

Lyra took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her request bearing down on her. "I want a job in your company," she said, her voice steady and firm. "A job that matches my qualifications."

Johnson laughed, the sound deep and rich. "You're definitely a spy," he said, shaking his head in amusement.

Lyra's eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward, placing her hands on his desk. "I'm not a spy," she said firmly. "I'm a woman who knows how to get things done. And I know how to make them lose complete consideration for the government contract that Megamace, DD Fashion, and Triony are currently vying for."