***Alarm buzzing***
***Alarm buzzing***
***Alarm buzzing***
The alarm blared to life, its incessant buzzing piercing the darkness like a siren's call. "Ugh, 5:30 already," I muttered, my husky voice laced with frustration and sleepiness. I groggily tossed off the covers, the chill of the morning air biting at my skin as I shuffled to the shower. The warm water revived me slightly, but the weight of the day ahead still lingered. By 7:00 a.m., I stood outside the sleek office building, my tailored suit and composed demeanor a mask for the uncertainty brewing inside.
"Good morning, I'm Emilia Keller," I said politely, my voice now smooth as silk. "I have an appointment with Mrs. Dumain at 7:30 a.m."
The receptionist looked up from her computer, a hint of a smile on her face. "That's right. You're the new executive assistant." She nodded toward the waiting room. "Please, take a seat. Mrs. Dumain will be with you shortly."
I settled into the waiting room wasn't in the original so I removed it
Mrs. Dumain approached with a perplexed expression. "Mrs. Keller, you're early. I like that," Mrs. Dumain said firmly, extending her hand. I took it, offering a warm yet professional smile. "Mrs. Dumain, it's—"
She cut me off. "You're required to start work immediately, Mrs. Keller. I have no time for formalities." Her tone was detached, bordering on brusque. "I'll show you to your office and brief you on our policies and expectations."
I nodded, responding, "I understand."
As we headed to my office, Mrs. Dumain outlined the company's rules. We stepped out of the elevator on the top floor, and she stopped in front of a grand door that seemed more suited to a mansion than an office. I raised an eyebrow, thinking, "This can't be the office of an assistant."
"This is your office," Mrs. Dumain said, pushing open the door. "The CEO's office is to your right. You're not to enter without permission, speak to them unless instructed, or question their decisions. And under no circumstances should you meddle in their personal life." Her gaze bore into mine, as if daring me to ask questions or object.
"Good, I see you have no questions. Relax, I don't bite," Mrs. Dumain said with a faint smile, before turning to leave.
I walked over to my desk and sank into the leather chair, taking in the office's opulent decor. The space was immaculately organized, with each item precision-placed to create a sense of harmony. The glossy marble floor caught my eye, its polished surface reflecting light and showcasing the stone's natural colors. The shine was so intense that I could see my reflection in it. The monochromatic aesthetic of white and black seamlessly integrated with the marble, creating a cohesive and sophisticated atmosphere. I had visited luxurious offices before, but this one was in a league of its own. I couldn't help but wonder what the CEO's office looked like.
"Get a grip, Lia. It's your first day, and you have a lot of work to do," I scolded myself, refocusing on the paperwork.
A few moments later, the door swung open, and a tall, imposing figure strode in. He stood at least 6 feet tall, clad in a sleek black suit that accentuated his chiseled physique. His entire demeanor exuded luxury and confidence. The black shades and face mask obscured his features, but his presence was undeniable. His expensive cologne wafted through the air, teasing my senses. Who was this mysterious man? His aura was commanding, almost intimidating. I was so captivated that I didn't notice him walk past me until he disappeared into the adjacent office.
The ringing phone snapped me back to reality. "Ashley, my coffee. Now!" a commanding voice barked, before abruptly hanging up. I stared at the receiver, confusion etched on my face. "Did he just call me Ashley? What the...?" I muttered, panic setting in. "I'd better get him his coffee before I get fired," I grumbled, hurrying to the canteen.
Navigating the sprawling building proved challenging, but another employee's directions finally led me to the canteen. As I approached the coffee machine, I was overwhelmed by the array of coffee options. Which one did he want? Did he take milk? I stood there, flustered. "Damn him," I muttered under my breath. "Why couldn't he be more specific?" With a hint of frustration, I decided on a flat white coffee.
"Sir, this is the coffee you asked for. " I said while entering his office.He was sited on his chair facing the wall I could only see the back of his chair and his head . I thought my office was big ? Damn this man's office was luxurious. Was this an office? It was more of a luxurious living room.As I stepped into his office, I was immediately struck by the sleek, modern aesthetic that seemed to emanate an aura of power and sophistication. The floor-to-ceiling, see-through glass walls offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, casting a warm glow over the marble floors that stretched out before me like a canvas of creamy white.
My gaze swept across the room, taking in the black and white color scheme that dominated the space. The furniture, the rugs, even the artwork on the walls – everything seemed to have been carefully curated to create a sense of harmony and balance.
My eyes lingered on the mini living room tucked away at the side of the office, where a plush black sofa and a pair of sleek, low-slung chairs were arranged around a minimalist coffee table. It was a cozy, intimate space that seemed out of place in the otherwise formal office.
This office was more spacious than my whole goddamn house. I thought to myself forgetting the task I had come to do.
"Should I repeat myself, Chloe? Put it on the table," his commanding voice cut through my thoughts. "Oh, yes! Sorry, sir," I stuttered.
As I placed the coffee on his desk, he let out a dismissive tsk. "I asked for coffee, Chloe. What kind of garbage is this?" I was taken aback, my irritation simmering. How could he insult my effort without even tasting it?
"Did you not read the paperwork on your table, Margaret?!" he scolded, his finger tapping impatiently on the leather chair. "I don't drink white coffee." Margaret?! Was he deliberately getting my name wrong? Was this some kind of test? How did he even know it was a flat white coffee? And what paperwork was he referring to? All the documents I'd received were work-related.
Calm down, Lia, you've got this. You're accustomed to working with difficult people like this man. I calmed myself and regained my composure. "I'm sorry for my ignorance, si-"
"Save it for next time. You may leave," he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "Okay, sir." I was about to storm out when he added, "Maggy, do me a favor and take that garbage with you."
This was unbelievable. This man was unbelievable. In a single day, he'd already pushed me to my limits. I dashed out of his office with the coffee, seething. I couldn't afford to stand next to him any longer. I would have surely lashed out in rage, and that wouldn't have been good for me. I really needed this job and couldn't afford to lose this opportunity.
"And done," I exclaimed softly as I finished the last piece of paperwork on my desk that night. I'd channeled my frustration into my work and had forgotten about the earlier encounter. I was finally free to go home.
I had packed my stuff and was ready to head home when my brows creased as all the thoughts of what had happened today flooded back into my head. Seems like the paperwork couldn't take out all the rage in me. I drove my car to the nearest club because I needed to cool off. Alcohol was my getaway when it came to situations like this. I wasn't an addict; I just needed 2 to 3 glasses to unwind.
I pushed open the sleek, silver-handled door and stepped into the bar, immediately enveloped by the warm, golden glow that seemed to wrap itself around me. The air was thick with the smell of good whiskey, rich leather, and the faintest hint of smoke.
The bar itself was enormous, stretching out before me like a vast, polished expanse of black granite. Rows of gleaming bottles seemed to stretch up to the ceiling, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the walls. The space was cavernous, with high ceilings and dimly lit corners that seemed to swallow the light whole.
The music drifted through the air, a smooth jazz melody that seemed to contradict the furious pounding of my heart. My rage simmered just below the surface, a potent mix of anger and frustration that threatened to boil over at any moment. The melodic saxophone and gentle piano seemed to mock me, their soothing rhythms a stark contrast to the turmoil seething inside me.
I made my way to the stool at the end of the bar, my eyes scanning the room with a mix of disdain and desperation. I needed a drink, and I needed it now.
"I need a glass of whiskey - the strongest you've got," I ordered the bartender, my voice firm and urgent. "Coming right up, miss," he replied, his tone smooth and efficient as he swiftly got to work.
"Who does he think he is?" I muttered, irritation simmering as I gulped down the whiskey. "Calling me names all day, treating me like a servant, not an EA. He didn't even bother looking at me when speaking. What a rude, mannerless man."
I scoffed, "He's probably one of those rich kids who inherited his fortune. How could someone like him run a company?" I continued, my frustration pouring out with each word. "He's arrogant, rude, self-centered, and clueless about appreciation."
As I sipped my whiskey, I felt the weight of several gazes on me, their eyes locked onto mine with an unmistakable hunger. They looked at me with a captivated intensity, their faces reflecting a desire that seemed to simmer just below the surface. It was clear: they wanted me, and they weren't shy about showing it.Their interest was palpable, but I wasn't having it. I had bigger things on my plate, and a random hook-up with a stranger wasn't even a blip on my radar. I met their gazes with a cool, detached air, my expression a clear warning: don't even think about it.
I was about to drink the third glass of whiskey when a male voice echoed in my ears, "I think that is enough drinking for today." My brows creased as I looked down and saw a male hand on the glass of whiskey in my hand. Who was this person to tell me what to do? I thought, glaring at him.
I blinked twice, making sure it wasn't the whiskey I'd drunk making me imagine things. Who was this man? He was handsome – handsome was an understatement. He was breathtakingly handsome, with a face that seemed almost angelic: high cheekbones, a pointed nose, and pink lips. But despite his ethereal features, there was something dark emanating from him, an aura that seemed to swirl around him like a shadow.
I'd seen my fair share of gorgeous men before supermodels, celebrities, the works. But there was something about this man that set him apart. Maybe it was the way he seemed to command attention without even trying, or the way his eyes seemed to bore into my soul. Whatever it was, I found myself inexplicably drawn to him.
And yet, there was something oddly familiar about him, too. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I felt like I'd seen him before. It was a strange, unsettling feeling, and it only added to the enigma that was this mysterious, handsome stranger.
"It must surely be the whiskey I wouldn't have forgotten such a face if I met him before "I shrugged it off as I thought to myself.
"Could you please take off your hand from my glass?" I frowned, my gaze darting from his hand wrapped around the glass to his face, my eyes narrowing in annoyance.
He leaned in, his elbow on the bar rail, and smirked. "Why would you be drinking on a Monday night? Don't you have work tomorrow? Your boss might fire you if you have a hangover at work or even worse skip work." His eyes locked onto mine, piercing and intense.
"My boss," I mumbled, annoyance seeping into my voice. "Fuck him and his damn company." I scoffed, rolling my eyes.
"Is that so?" He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. Why did his voice sound so familiar? The whiskey was really messing with my head, I thought, trying to shake off the fogginess.
"Let him go to hell and maybe buy an attitude while he's at it," I snapped, still fuming. "I've never seen such a rude and arrogant person in my life – such an ugly soul. Maybe that's why he wears a mask and shades; he's probably as ugly as his soul." I scoffed, my rage boiling over.
I was so caught up in venting about my boss that I hadn't noticed the amusement on the man's face. "That's a lot for a single person, don't you think?" he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
"Sir, they are here," a man dressed in all black said, interrupting our conversation. The man next to me stood, and his expression darkened, his face transforming into something more ominous. He looked scary, dangerous – like trouble.
"Go home and get some rest, you have work tomorrow," he said, cutting into my thoughts. As he turned to leave, I murmured, "You didn't even tell me your name?"
He turned back, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "You're soon going to know. Now be a good girl and go home." With that, he vanished into the crowd.
"What does he mean? 'I'll soon know'?" I frowned, confusion and curiosity swirling in my mind.