CHAPTER FOUR
Selene
I woke up before my alarm even had the chance to go off, the early sunlight streaming in through the flimsy curtains of my bedroom. For once, I wasn't dragging myself out of bed with a groan or frown. Today felt different. Today was the beginning of something new—my first official day at Stones Technology.
With a deep stretch, I reached for my phone on the nightstand, ready to check my messages. Instead of the usual notifications from Maya or a spam email, I saw a text from my dad. Instantly, my mood deflated. *How did he even know about the job?* I wondered, a dull ache settling in my chest. For a moment, I debated whether I should open it or just delete it. But then, out of habit, I swiped it away. I wasn't ready to deal with whatever disappointment or judgment he was going to throw my way. Not today, not on my first day.
It was always like this with my family. No matter what I achieved, I wasn't the golden child—far from it. That was my sister's role, the one they cherished and praised for everything she did. Me? I was the afterthought, the one that never measured up. It had been like this for as long as I could remember, and every time they reached out, I felt like I was standing on shaky ground. Today, I couldn't afford to lose the high spirits I'd woken up with. I wouldn't let them ruin this for me.
Shaking off the dark cloud hanging over me, I swung my legs out of bed and started getting ready. I chose a form fitting black skirt that hugged me just right, paired with a sleek, silky blouse that tucked in neatly. My heels were modest, professional—perfect for a first day at a serious corporate office, or so I thought.
But as I stepped into the lobby of Stones Technology, I immediately realized I had underestimated this place. It was like walking into another world, a world where everyone had received the memo about the unspoken dress code, and I had missed it. The women strolled in tailored designer outfits, effortlessly stylish but not too flashy. The men were dressed in fitted suits that looked like they cost more than my entire wardrobe. And here I was, feeling like I was playing dress-up in comparison.
I hesitated at the entrance, taking in the polished marble floors, the glass walls that gave a pristine, almost intimidating view of the entire city. The whole atmosphere screamed money, power, and status—a far cry from the casual side jobs I'd worked to survive for the past two years.
As I made my way to HR for orientation, I caught glimpses of employees moving in and out of glass-walled offices, phones glued to their ears, dressed like they had stepped straight out of a luxury magazine. My outfit, which I had been so proud of this morning, suddenly felt like a poor imitation of what everyone else seemed to be wearing with such ease.
The HR rep, a middle-aged woman with sleek gray hair and a sharp business suit, greeted me with a clipboard in hand and an efficient, no-nonsense smile. She briefed me on the basics—my salary (not as high as I'd hoped but definitely more than I'd been making in the past two years), my benefits, and my responsibilities. She handed me a packet of paperwork, and without much fanfare, she directed me to the orientation room.
I would be occupying the position of secretary to the CEO, a role that seemed simple enough but, according to the HR lady, came with significant responsibilities. "You'll need to be sharp," she had said, raising an eyebrow. "Mr. Stones expects excellence from his team." Her tone was almost a warning.
Afterward, I was assigned a small desk in the corner, near another secretary's station. The woman in question—tall, blonde, and dressed like she was cosplaying as a sultry librarian—looked me up and down with mild disdain. I caught her rolling her eyes before turning back to her computer.
A few minutes later, she swiveled in her chair to face me, her lips pulling into a forced smile. "I'm Becca Whitford," she said, voice clipped, eyes narrowing just a fraction. Her last name rang with an air of formality, like someone who came from a family that belonged in places like this. "Just so we're clear, the boss is mine. I handle all his needs, so don't get any ideas." Her smile grew tighter. "You'll be assigned the grunt work for now. Filing, coffee runs, scheduling. Stick to that, and we won't have a problem."
I stared at her for a moment in utter disbelief, unsure how to respond. The boss is yours? Did people actually talk like that in real life? Before I could say anything, she had already turned back to her screen, dismissing me as quickly as she had acknowledged me.
So, for the rest of the day—and the next—I was stuck doing the kind of menial tasks I hadn't expected when I signed up for this job. Every time I passed by the CEO's office, a massive, intimidating corner office with glass walls, the windows were darkened. They were those high-tech privacy windows that could be frosted at the push of a button. It was strange, not seeing the CEO in person, but I figured he must've been busy. His assistant, however, wasn't shy about making her presence known.
Becca had quickly proven herself to be the unofficial gatekeeper of the CEO's world, and she had no qualms about lording it over me. She'd bark orders, make sure I knew exactly who was in charge, and took every opportunity to remind me that I was at the bottom of the pecking order. Honestly, I wasn't sure what annoyed me more—her self-importance or the fact that she seemed to revel in giving me every pointless task imaginable.
As for the CEO, I hadn't seen him once. Not a glimpse. Anytime I needed something from the top office, it went through Becca, who treated me like I was invisible unless she needed something done. I started to get the feeling that she might actually be in love with her boss. The way she talked about him, how she practically worshiped the ground he walked on—or the floors of his office, anyway—was nauseating. I was pretty sure if he told her to jump out of the 25-foot-high building, she'd do it without a second thought. The loyalty was unnerving. I don't think loyalty is the right word. Obsession is the word I am going for. So the obsession over a person who might not even care is unnerving but what do I know, she and the CEO might be doing things on the low. Who am I to judge?
By the end of the second day, I was exhausted. I hadn't even had a proper conversation with the CEO, let alone worked directly with him. I'd barely had time to get a feel for the office before Becca had loaded me with filing and scheduling tasks that kept me chained to my desk. Stones Technology felt like a maze, and I was still learning how to navigate it.
But then came the third day. The newly employed were all scheduled to meet in the conference room for a briefing session—a kind of orientation for all the newcomers. We gathered around the massive, oval table, all of us fresh-faced and eager, though I wasn't exactly sure what to expect. The HR team walked us through company policies, rules, and what to do and what not to do, but it all felt like a blur. My mind wandered to everything I still had to learn, all the tasks piling up on my desk.
Just as the meeting was wrapping up, the door swung open. I glanced up, annoyed at whoever was late, but my breath caught in my throat. Striding in, with the same intense, magnetic presence I remembered from that night at the club, was him. The mysterious stranger. The one-night stand I thought I'd never see again. The one I'd convinced myself was just a fleeting moment in a city too big for second chances. But here he was, wearing a perfectly tailored suit, looking just as devastatingly handsome as the last time I'd seen him—if not more so.
"Ah, perfect timing," the HR manager said, standing to introduce him. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Charles Stones, the CEO."
My heart stopped. No, no, no, no...
Charles Stones—the man from that unforgettable night—was my boss.