Everybody knew the name John MacTavish.

If he wasn't in the news for some reason-or-other, then his name was on nearly every home and business security system in the city.

You'd known of his reputation long before you stepped into his office. The ex-Sargent, honourably discharged from the military after an injury he'd never full recover from, had carried his no-nonsense attitude straight into the corporate world. Using the decent sized settlement the military had given him upon being discharged, John had transitioned from one type of security to another. As CEO of 'MacTavish Tactical Solutions', he was infamous. Ruthlessly selective about the employees he hired for his business and notoriously difficult to work for. It was no wonder the that the press painted him as cheeky, ill-mannered and borderline unbearable.

But desperate times called for desperate measures, and boy, were you desperate.

This wasn't just a job interview to you. It was about survival. Bills had long since piled up on the counter of your shoddy one bedroom apartment in the sketchy part of the city. Savings, of which there wasn't much to begin with, starting to run dry. Every rejection letter from application after application felt like another nail in your coffin. You had been grasping onto your last thread of hope when the opportunity arose. A position as the CEO's personal secretary becoming available. An offer of an interview you couldn't afford to turn down, no matter how impossible John was rumoured to be.

MacTavish Tactical Solutions was more like a fortress of glass and steel rather then an office building. Built from the ground up, it was no surprise that it was modern.

You stood just outside the CEO's door, inhaling deeply to compose yourself before finally plucking up enough courage to knock. A gruff voice calling to you from behind the door,

"Come in!"

Stepping inside, making sure to close the door gently behind you, you found John behind his desk. A towering presence, even sat down. Dressed in a crisp light blue shirt with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hand and wrists bore the evidence of the life he once lived. Scars littering the slightly tanned skin, shadows under his eyes that hadn't quite disappeared yet.

The CEO's gaze was sharp and assessing, making you feel like a bug about to be squashed. A man already calculating whether you'd be a liability before you'd even spoken two words.

"Your late" he spoke, Scottish drawl laced with an edge of impatience.

You checked your watch, the time showing two minutes past the hour. But your lips remained sealed, supposing being argumentative right off the bat may not help your chances of getting employed.

"Tha's two minute too long," Johnny exhaled sharply, tossing your resume back onto his desk. "Ah donnae tolerate tardiness in this company. If yeh work for meh, then you keep up or ge' out. Understand?"