THE CALL THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
1201 Words
Nylah
Her phone rang as she stepped out of the hot shower, steam still curling around the edges of her bathroom mirror like silk. Wrapped in a towel and her thoughts, she reached blindly for the phone, checking the screen with one eye squinting from shampoo she hadn’t fully rinsed.
Unknown Number.
Her chest tightened.
Could it be…?
She wiped her hand on the towel and swiped to answer.
“Hello?”
A crisp voice responded, professional but overly chipper.
“Good afternoon, Miss Daniels. This is Clara from HR at The Blake Royal.”
She nearly dropped the phone.
Her grip tightened.
“Yes. Hi. Good afternoon.”
“We’re calling regarding your performance in today’s audition for the Royal Hostess campaign.”
Nylah held her breath.
Clara’s voice ticked on.
“We’re pleased to inform you that you've been shortlisted—alongside one other model—for the leading role as the official face of The Blake Royal’s luxury expansion campaign.”
Nylah blinked.
“Wait... I'm shortlisted?”
“Yes, ma’am. Management was very impressed with your presence and delivery. Particularly someone very high up.”
Her stomach flipped. She didn’t have to ask who. She knew exactly which cold, dangerously attractive someone they meant.
Clara continued,
“The campaign will run for six months, with potential for extension. All expenses covered. Your face will appear on every national and international promotion. There will be a final round between you and another candidate to determine who leads the campaign.”
Nylah inhaled slowly, trying not to let her towel fall.
“When is the next round?”
“Tomorrow. 8AM sharp. Boardroom level 11. Dress accordingly.”
“I will be there,” she said, steady as steel.
“Perfect. See you then, Miss Daniels.”
The line went dead.
Nylah stared at her reflection.
She’d done it.
Despite the snakes. Despite Jason. Despite Alicia.
Especially Alicia.
And just as the high of the moment surged through her, she turned her speaker on and played her “Victory Over Bitter Bitches” playlist while dancing barefoot in her towel like no one was watching.
She was going to be the face of a billion-rand brand.
And not even heels with fangs could stop her now.
***
The next morning arrived like a slap of cold water.
Nylah stood in front of the full-length mirror in the prep room of The Blake Royal’s 11th floor boardroom suite, dressed in a sleek black jumpsuit that hugged her curves with quiet authority. Her makeup was minimal — dewy skin, soft brown lids, and a bold red lip. She wasn’t there to beg for attention. She was there to own it.
Outside, the floor buzzed with stylists, lighting crews, and branding managers. A massive screen rotated digital mock-ups of what the luxury campaign would look like — Nylah’s face could be one of them.
Her jaw tightened as Alicia strolled in like the second coming of Cleopatra, all sharp angles and lip gloss.
“Morning,” Alicia said with a smirk that was sugar-laced venom.
Nylah smiled back sweetly.
“Still trying too hard, I see.”
Alicia’s smirk twitched.
Before they could exchange more barbs, the creative director clapped his hands.
“Ladies, it’s time!”
***
Zavian – Behind the Glass
Zavian watched from behind a one-way glass wall in a private viewing room just off the boardroom. His hands were in his pockets, eyes sharp as knives as he watched the camera crew prepare the set.
Nylah entered first.
Goddamn.
That was the only thought that came to him.
She didn’t just walk. She moved like she belonged there. Like she wasn’t intimidated by the spotlight. Like she was the spotlight.
He leaned a little closer to the glass, lips twitching with the ghost of a grin.
Alicia entered next — predictably flamboyant, overplaying every curve and angle. She was technically flawless. But she knew she was being watched.
Nylah? Nylah had forgotten the world.
He didn’t know if it was her confidence or the fact that she wasn’t performing for anyone — least of all him — that made his pulse tighten.
“Sir?” his assistant whispered beside him, glancing at the clipboard. “Should I note your preferred candidate again?”
Zavian’s voice was low, smooth.
“Watch.”
The Shoot Begins
The camera rolled.
Each woman was to perform three tasks: a product promo, a lifestyle pose shoot, and a short scripted line delivery.
Alicia went first.
She purred her lines with over-practiced sensuality, flicked her hair, posed like every high-fashion model in a perfume ad. Technically, she did everything right.
But it was rehearsed. Plastic. Calculated.
Then came Nylah.
Nylah didn’t smile. Not right away.
She stood in front of the camera, eyes calm and unwavering.
“Why should luxury be loud?” she began, the words smooth like silk. “Luxury is confidence. It's knowing you don’t have to chase. It comes to you.”
She stepped forward, picked up the champagne glass from the table prop, turned slightly to the side. She raised it to the camera. She didn’t even blink.
No forced seduction. No showboating.
Just raw magnetism and quiet power.
The room fell silent.
Even the stylist dropped his comb.
Zavian’s pulse ticked.
He turned to his assistant and said flatly,
“That’s your face.”
The assistant nodded, flipping a checkmark on his sheet.
***
After the Shoot
In the dressing area, Alicia stormed off to the mirror, throwing her lip gloss onto the counter hard enough to crack the casing.
She felt it. The shift. The way the crew had reacted. The silence after Nylah’s take. The way even the lights seemed to favour her.
Jason’s words from the night before echoed like acid in her mind: You better work some magic… or she’ll end up winning. Again.
Not this time.
She would not let Nylah win again.
From her corner, Nylah sipped water slowly, her chest rising with every breath.
She wasn’t sure what Zavian thought.
But for once in her life — it didn’t matter.
She had owned the moment.
And nothing Alicia said behind closed doors could take that from her.
***
Nylah was halfway through unlacing her heels when her phone buzzed.
Private Number.
She frowned. Probably HR.
“Hello?”
“Miss Daniels,” came that deep, smooth voice she hadn’t heard since the night of the blind date… and then again this morning.
Zavian.
Her spine straightened as she stood up.
“Yes?”
“I’d like you to come up to my office. Now.”
No ‘please.’ No explanation. Just command. Pure Zavian Blake.
She could almost hear the steel behind the velvet in his voice.
There was a pause. Then—
“Or do you have something more important on your schedule?”
Nylah narrowed her eyes at the phone.
“I suppose I can spare five minutes.”
“Make it ten. My assistant will bring you up.”
Click.
She pulled on her heels with a muttered,
“This man’s ego needs its own elevator.”
But beneath the sarcasm, her heart thrummed with a dangerous rhythm.
- Writer
