CHAPTER ONE — A VERY BAD FIRST IMPRESSION
CHAPTER ONE — A VERY BAD FIRST IMPRESSION
Yoko Tran-Siripong decided, at exactly 8:47 a.m., that Bangkok secretly hated her.
The BTS train stalled between stations.
Her brand-new heel snapped on Sathorn Road.
And the iced coffee she bought for courage leaked inside her bag like a personal betrayal.
Today was supposed to be important.
First day. New job. New start.
Instead, she arrived at Malhotra Luxury Group slightly limping, mildly caffeinated, and already emotionally exhausted.
“Executive Assistant to the CEO,” her contract had proudly declared.
Yoko had repeated that line to her parents all week like a victory chant.
Now, standing in the glossy marble lobby of one of Bangkok’s most intimidating companies, she wasn’t sure if it was a promotion or a trap.
She practiced her introduction in the elevator mirror.
“Good morning, Madam Malhotra. It’s an honor—”
Too stiff.
“Hi, I’m Yoko, your new assistant—”
Too casual.
She sighed. “Just don’t embarrass yourself.”
The elevator dinged like a warning bell.
The top floor looked less like an office and more like a luxury hotel designed by someone allergic to warmth.
A receptionist glanced at her.
“Name?”
“Yoko Tran-Siripong. New executive assistant.”
The woman gave her a polite but doubtful smile.
“Wait there.”
Yoko sat, straightened her skirt, and tried not to sweat through her blouse.
Then she heard it.
A voice from behind the glass doors — calm, sharp, unmistakably irritated.
“I don’t pay people to think slowly.”
Yoko swallowed.
So that was Faye Malhotra.
The Iron Orchid of Bangkok.
The doors opened.
And out she walked.
Faye Malhotra was even more intimidating in person.
Tall. Immaculate. Dressed in a black suit that probably cost more than Yoko’s entire wardrobe. Her expression suggested she had never once been impressed by anything in her life.
Her gaze landed on Yoko.
“You’re the new assistant.”
Not a question.
“Yes, Madam Malhotra,” Yoko replied, standing quickly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Faye looked her over with open skepticism.
“You’re late.”
Yoko blinked. “I’m actually five minutes early.”
“Not early enough.”
Oh.
Great.
“Follow me,” Faye said, already walking away.
Inside the massive office, she handed Yoko a tablet.
“My schedule. Fix it.”
Yoko hesitated. “Fix… it?”
“It’s inefficient. Messy. Irritating.” Faye sat without looking at her. “You have one hour.”
Yoko stared at the chaotic calendar.
“Understood.”
She sat at the small desk outside the office and got to work, muttering under her breath.
“Not even a hello. Lovely woman.”
At 10:00 a.m. sharp, she returned.
“Done.”
Faye took the tablet, scrolling in silence.
Yoko waited, hopeful.
Finally: “It’s acceptable.”
“Acceptable?”
“Barely.”
Yoko forced a professional smile.
“Happy to improve it further.”
“Good. You’ll need to.”
Right.
Definitely a trap.
The true disaster happened at 11:23.
Yoko returned from buying coffee — one black americano for the boss, one iced Thai tea for herself.
The elevator doors opened.
She stepped out.
And walked straight into Faye Malhotra.
Cups collided.
Liquid flew.
The iced Thai tea landed directly on Faye’s white blouse.
The office went silent.
Faye looked down at the stain like it had personally offended her ancestors.
Yoko froze. “I— I can explain—”
“This should be fascinating,” Faye said coldly.
“Gravity?” Yoko offered weakly.
Wrong answer.
Faye took a slow breath. “You’ve been here three hours and already managed property damage.”
“I’ll pay for it—”
“You’ll be more careful,” Faye corrected. “Or you won’t be here long.”
Yoko’s cheeks burned.
“Yes, Madam Malhotra.”
As she hurried away, she whispered to herself:
“I already hate this job.”
Behind her, Faye watched the clumsy assistant retreat and thought:
This girl is going to be a problem.
