The fire alarm shrieked through Vortex Innovations, a relentless wail that drowned Nora Grayson's racing thoughts. She stood frozen in Damien Voss's office doorway, his piercing blue eyes boring into her, the words "Give me one reason I shouldn't fire you" still hanging in the air. Red lights pulsed overhead, casting jagged shadows across his chiseled face. Her mouth opened, but no sound came, her brain was a tangle of panic and tea-soaked regret.
"Move!" Damien barked, shoving past her. His shoulder clipped hers, hard enough to jolt her sideways. She stumbled, catching herself on the doorframe as he strode into the hall, barking orders into a phone. "Get security up here now! Find out what's happening!" His voice was a whipcrack, cutting through the chaos.
Nora's pulse hammered. Fire? On my first day? She bolted after him, flats slapping the polished floor. Employees poured from offices, ties loosened, heels abandoned, rushing for the stairwells. Smoke tickled her nose, faint but real, curling from somewhere below. Damien spun toward her, his glare venomous. "You still here? Get out before you cause more trouble."
"I'm not the one setting off alarms!" she snapped, adrenaline overriding fear. His jaw tightened, but a security guard barreled up, cutting him off.
"Sir, it's a kitchen fire—floor 38. Contained, but evacuation's protocol."
Damien swore under his breath, then waved a hand. "Back to your stations, everyone. False alarm." His eyes flicked to Nora. "Not you. My office. Now."
The crowd dispersed, muttering, leaving Nora alone with him in the corridor. Her stomach churned. Fired. Definitely fired. She trailed him back, the alarm silencing mid-screech, leaving an eerie hum. His office was a fortress—glass walls with a view of Chicago's skyline, a desk the size of her old apartment, and that tea-stained shirt crumpled like a trophy of her failure.
He slammed the door, rounding on her. "Name."
"Nora Grayson," she said, chin up despite the tremor in her legs. "I'm…"
"I don't care who you think you are," he cut in, voice icy. "You're the idiot who drenched me in tea and mouthed off in my elevator. First days don't get second chances here."
"It was an accident!" Her hands balled into fists. "I didn't know you were…"
"The CEO?" He smirked, leaning against his desk, arms crossed. "Ignorance isn't an excuse. You've got five seconds to convince me you're not a liability."
Her mind raced. Five seconds? She'd spent years clawing for this job—top of her class, late nights designing turbine tweaks, every rejection letter a bruise. She wouldn't let this arrogant jerk erase that. "I'm a damn good engineer," she said, voice steady. "My portfolio got me here. Give me a chance to prove it."
He studied her, eyes narrowing. "Prove it? You can't even hold a cup." A beat passed, then he straightened. "Fine. Orientation's starting. Don't make me regret this."
Nora exhaled, barely believing she'd dodged the axe. She turned to go, but he added, "And Grayson? Spill anything else, and you're out. No warnings."
She nodded, fleeing before he changed his mind. The elevator ride down was a blur—her reflection in the glass showed wild curls and flushed cheeks, a mess still clutching an empty mug. Floor 42 buzzed with returning staff, the fire scare already a punchline. She slipped into the orientation room, late again, and sank into a back-row chair.
The new hires chattered—nervous, excited, sipping coffee like nothing had happened. Nora's hands shook as she set her mug down, Damien's words echoing: No warnings. She'd survived, but barely. The door swung open, and a woman in a crisp blazer strode in—HR, clipboard in hand.
"Welcome to Vortex," she chirped. "Let's get started…"
She stopped as Damien stormed in behind her, his presence sucking the air from the room. Whispers flared: "Voss." "He's here?" Nora shrank lower, praying he'd ignore her. He didn't sit, just loomed by the front, arms crossed, scanning the group like a hawk.
The HR woman faltered, then rallied. "Mr. Voss will say a few words." She stepped aside, and he took the floor, his voice a blade.
"You're here because Vortex demands the best," he said, each word clipped. "We innovate. We dominate. Mistakes…" His gaze snapped to Nora, and her heart stopped. "…aren't tolerated. Day one sets the tone. Don't waste my time."
Laughter rippled, some nervous, some smug. Nora's face burned, he was talking about her. The tea. The elevator. She gripped her chair, forcing herself to meet his stare. He smirked, faint but cruel, then turned to a screen, launching into Vortex's mission—wind power, solar grids, global impact. She tried to focus, scribbling notes, but his presence was a weight, pressing her down.
The session dragged, policies, schedules, jargon, but Nora's mind spun. She'd pissed off the CEO. Day one, and she was a target. Her phone buzzed, HR again: Team assignments posted. Check now. She fumbled it out, scrolling the company app. Engineering Team 3, Turbine Division. Solid. Then she saw the supervisor: Damien Voss.
Her stomach dropped. He was her boss? Not just the CEO, but her direct overseer? She glanced up, he was watching her, that smirk back, like he'd planned it. The room cleared out, new hires filing past, but Nora stayed glued to her seat, dread pooling.
He approached, steps deliberate, stopping inches away. "Team 3, huh?" His tone was mock-casual, laced with menace. "I'll be watching you, Grayson. Closely."
She swallowed, defiance flickering. "I'll do my job."
"You'd better," he said, leaning in, voice a low growl. "Because I don't keep dead weight. Step out of line, and you're gone."
He turned to leave, but paused at the door, tossing a final barb over his shoulder. "Oh, and ditch the tea. You clearly can't handle it."
The door slammed, and Nora's breath rushed out. She was in over her head—trapped under a tyrant who hated her guts. Her phone pinged again: Team meeting, 5 PM. Voss's office. She stared at it, pulse racing, as the clock ticked closer to a showdown she wasn't ready for.