His Assistant, His Obsession

His Assistant, His Obsession

Chapter Two — Deborah’s POV

If someone had told me a month ago that I’d be working for Daniel Eze, the youngest billionaire in Lagos, I would’ve laughed.

People like him existed in magazines, not in the same building where I took the bus to every morning.

But here I was, standing in his office — a room that felt too big, too cold, too perfect.

The glass walls sparkled. The city stretched below, alive and busy, while I tried to remember how to breathe.

He didn’t look at me again after giving instructions. He just sat at his desk, expression unreadable, eyes fixed on his computer screen — as if I were invisible.

Still, something about his presence filled every corner of the room.

They said he was ruthless.

They said he never smiled.

But when I first met his gaze in the hallway, I’d seen something else — a flicker of sadness buried under the ice.

“Start organizing the investor files,” he’d said.

I nodded and quietly got to work, even though my hands trembled slightly.

The files were heavy — reports, charts, foreign exchange data — all in perfect order, just like the man himself.

I tried to focus, but my mind kept drifting to him.

His voice. Deep. Calm. Dangerous.

His suit. Flawless.

His cologne. Subtle, but expensive enough to make my knees weak.

Focus, Deborah, I scolded myself.

You didn’t come here to stare at your boss.

I had dreams — to finish university, to support my parents, to prove that I could stand on my own.

This job was supposed to be a stepping stone.

Not… this.

A soft vibration pulled me from my thoughts.

His phone, buzzing again.

He reached for it so quickly, his jaw tightening, that I almost pretended not to notice.

“Sir, should I—”

“No.” His tone was sharp enough to cut glass. Then softer, almost guilty, “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

I nodded, lowering my eyes, but curiosity burned in my chest.

Who was messaging him? Why did a man like Daniel Eze — powerful, respected, admired — look haunted for just a second?

By lunchtime, he still hadn’t said another word to me. But I caught him glancing at me once — just once — when he thought I wasn’t looking.

And that single look sent a strange warmth down my spine.

There was something in his eyes that terrified me.

Because behind that coldness, I saw a man who didn’t want to care —

and somehow, I knew I was going to make him care anyway.