Looking through her binder

You flip through Jane's packet one last time. The headshots are crisp: shoulder-length brunette hair framing a heart-shaped face, cute nose, hazel eyes that catch the light like polished glass. She's petite, 5'3", slim with curves in all the right places—exactly the kind of body that photographs like a fantasy and moves like a promise. Nineteen, per her bio sheet. Perfect for the role.

She's more than capable, aced her screen tests. That's a perk of the job: no real hiring risks. Everyone who reaches you is qualified. The real test? How far they'll go to break in.

You're not a total asshole—you usually keep requests tied to the role's demands, unless they push further unprompted. But for a lead like this? She'll need to give plenty. Whoever offers the most gets the gig.

After a few minutes poring over her file, you catch Jane's voice outside, chatting with Nicole.

"Don't worry, he'll be with you in a minute."

"Can I get you something?"

Jane's reply is muffled, but it sounds like a no. You call out, "Nicole, send Jane in."

Movement stirs outside. The door handle turns.