Falling for Mr. CEO

CHAPTER 6- A GLITCH IN THE SYSTEM

ETHAN

I’ve always liked the quiet the office has before everyone else arrives, even if it’s just for a few hours. I was going through some reports when I heard a knock on my door. “Come in,” I said, not looking up immediately.

Ivan stepped in with his usual calm confidence, a tablet tucked under his arm. “I figured you’d be in early.”

I glanced up at him. “You figured right. What’s going on?”

He took the seat across from me and opened his tablet. “We’re kicking off a new internal initiative, “Project Helios”. It’s focused on system integration and cross-department efficiency.”

“Helios,” I repeated. “Sounds dramatic.”

He grinned. “It’s ambitious. The objective is basically to reduce client-handling time by thirty percent. I’ll need one representative from each department, someone who can make decisions without dragging everything back to their team every five minutes.”

“Alright,” I said, leaning back. “You’re the company’s project coordinator. You’ve done this before. What’s the issue?”

He hesitated. “Operations. Dawson was supposed to take that spot, but he’s requested time off. Says it’s personal.”

I raised a brow. “Approved?”

“Pending HR confirmation. But I think it’s legitimate. He’s been dealing with some family stuff.”

I nodded slowly. “So who’s your alternative?”

“I already asked Dawson for a recommendation.” Ivan swiped his tablet to a profile page and handed it to me. “He suggested one of the new hires, Andrea Bennett.”

“The new employee?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “He said she’s one of the most efficient people he’s seen in a while. Quick learner. Works well under pressure. Apparently, she’s been fixing reporting errors that even senior staff missed.”

I didn’t need a picture to know exactly who Andrea Bennett was. The boardroom staff meeting two weeks ago had made sure of that.

I set the tablet down. “She’s only been here two weeks.”

“I know,” Ivan said. “But she’s good. I wouldn’t recommend her if I wasn’t sure.”

I gave a small nod. “Then she’s in. Approve of Dawson’s leave and update HR.”

Ivan smiled. “Great. The kickoff meeting’s scheduled for tomorrow at ten. You’ll be there?”

“Of course.”

“Got it.” Ivan stood, but hesitated at the door. “You’ve met her before, right?”

I looked back at my laptop, forcing my tone flat. “Briefly.”

When he left, I tried to focus again on the reports in front of me. I lasted three minutes before realizing I’d read the same line four times.

By ten the next morning, the conference room was already buzzing. The projector screen in front showed the Project Helios logo, bright orange against black. Ivan stood at the front, tapping through slides while the rest of the team settled in.

I leaned against the far wall, coffee in hand. I wasn’t planning to talk much, this was Ivan’s show. Still, I liked watching how people handled pressure when they thought I wasn’t paying attention.

Andrea walked in a few minutes later, holding her notebook and laptop close to her chest. She looked a little unsure, scanning the room for a seat. Her hair was pulled back neatly, and she had that look of someone who’d double-checked everything twice before coming here.

Ivan noticed her. “Andrea, over here,” he said, waving her toward the empty seat beside him.

He turned to the group. “Alright, let’s get started. Everyone, this is Andrea Bennett from Operations. She’ll be taking over for Dawson.”

There were a few polite nods around the table.

One of the tech guys, Ryan, leaned back in his chair. “Didn’t know we were bringing in rookies,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for people to hear.

Andrea froze slightly, but Ivan didn’t miss a beat. “You’ll be glad we did,” he said. “She’s sharp.”

That shut Ryan up.

Ivan clicked to the next slide. “So here’s the deal; Project Helios is designed to fix what’s broken between departments. Too many handoffs, too many delays. We’re going to streamline all that. Our goal: a single integrated system that cuts processing time down by thirty percent. It’s ambitious, but doable.” He glanced at me. “Ethan, you want to add anything?”

I shook my head. “You’re leading this, Ivan. Just make sure everyone knows this isn’t just another report deadline. It matters.”

That was all I said, but everyone suddenly looked a little more alert. The word ‘matters*’* had a way of doing that.

Ivan continued, assigning tasks and deadlines. I watched Andrea quietly, she looked deeply focused, paying attention to everything. When someone brought up data inconsistencies from Operations, she leaned forward slightly.

“If both systems are trying to override each other during updates,” she said, “it’s not a sync failure, it’s a permissions loop. The new tool can’t distinguish priority sources. If we assign a clear hierarchy between the two, the problem disappears.”

The room went silent for a second.

Ryan raised a brow. “That’s… actually true,” he said. “We’ve been blaming the sync tool for months.”

Ivan smiled. “You heard her. That’s the kind of detail I want. Good job, Andrea.”

Andrea’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she nodded. “Thank you.”

I didn’t say anything, but I found myself watching her again; the way she stayed calm under attention. It was very admirable. Attractive, even.

When the meeting finally ended, people started gathering their things. Ivan came up to me. “Told you she was good.”

“She’s more than that,” I said before I could stop myself.

He grinned. “Didn’t think you noticed.”

I gave him a look. “I notice everything.”

As I said it, Andrea dropped her notebook. She bent to pick it up, and when she straightened, her eyes met mine, and not by accident this time.

By the time evening rolled around, most of the team had left. The office lights had dimmed automatically to half-brightness, filling the open floor with a warm glow.

I was about to shut down for the night when I heard a knock.

“Come in,” I said, wondering who it could be at this time.

Andrea stepped inside, her laptop open in her hands. “Sorry to disturb you. There’s an issue with the operations dashboard. The integration’s throwing errors again, it keeps duplicating entries, and the finance module won’t update.”

I sighed, standing. “Wasn’t that patch tested already?”

“It was,” she said, sounding frustrated. “But something changed after the last system merge. I’m trying to trace it, but I can’t figure out what’s causing it.”

I checked my watch. It was almost seven. “Ivan’s gone?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He told me to leave it for tomorrow, but if we do, it’ll mess up the rollout schedule.”

That got a small smile out of me. “You don’t like waiting, do you?”

“Not when I can fix it,” she said simply.

I nodded toward the hallway. “Show me.”

We walked back to the operations department. It was empty now, the place felt strange without the noise, just the hum of electronics and the faint buzz of the AC. She moved quickly, pulling up the logs, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Here,” she said, frowning at the lines of code. “The merge starts fine, then something in the authorization resets the data source priorities.”

“Try freezing the secondary stream,” I said.

She did, and the system blinked red again.

“Great,” she muttered. “Now it’s throwing a tantrum.”

I chuckled quietly. “Do you always talk to the system like it’s alive?”

“Sometimes I think it is,” she said, smiling despite herself. “It definitely acts like it has moods.”

“Then it’s fitting you’re in Operations,” I said. “You sound like a therapist for software.”

She turned her head slightly toward me. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

“Depends. Did it sound like one?”

She laughed softly. “Half and half.”

We spent the next thirty minutes troubleshooting, and for the first time in a while, I realized I wasn’t thinking about deadlines or targets. I was just… there; listening to her mumble code logic under her breath, occasionally catching her glancing at me as if checking whether I agreed with her methods.

At one point, she said, “You know, you don’t really look like someone who writes code.”

“I don’t,” I said.

“Exactly,” she said, smiling. “You have that CEO energy, the type that just appears, asks for an update, and disappears again.”

I smirked. “And yet, here I am, helping debug your code.”

She gave me a mock gasp. “So this is rare?”

“Very,” I said. “You should feel honored.”

“Oh, I do,” she said with exaggerated seriousness. “I’ll probably brag about it to HR tomorrow.”

That made me laugh, genuinely. “Please don’t. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Of being scary?”

“Of being efficient,” I corrected, though I couldn’t keep the amusement out of my voice.

She grinned. “Same thing around here.”

When she finally found the glitch, a misplaced permission override, she let out a quiet “Got you,” like she’d just won a game.

The green checkmark appeared, and the tension in her shoulders eased.

“Fixed,” she said, sitting back with a satisfied sigh.

I leaned on the edge of the desk beside her. “You just saved us a full day. Remind me to give Ivan a hard time for wanting to wait.”

“I’ll gladly remind you,” she said, closing her laptop. “He owes me coffee.”

“I’ll make sure he knows that.”

We stood there in silence for a moment. It didn’t feel awkward, just unhurried. I realized I didn’t mind being stuck there with her, and somehow, I sensed she didn’t either.

She looked at her phone. “Wow, it’s nine already.”

I nodded. “Time moves faster when things actually work.”

She smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I should go. The bus routes get weird after nine-thirty.”

“You’re not taking the bus,” I said automatically.

She blinked. “Sorry?”

“My driver’s still downstairs. He can drop you off.”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary. I can—”

“It’s not up for debate,” I said gently.

“Besides, I’m staying a while. You’ll be saving me from hearing him complain about traffic alone.”

That earned me a small, reluctant laugh. “If you put it that way…”

“I usually do,” I said.

She picked up her bag, hesitating for a second. “You always like having the last word, don’t you?”

“Occupational habit,” I said. “Comes with the CEO title.”

She gave me a look; playful, challenging. “You know, you’re less intimidating when you actually talk.”

“And here I thought I was going for mysterious,” I said.

“Oh, no,” she teased. “You’re definitely mysterious. Just… in a slightly annoying way.”

That made me laugh quietly. “Noted.”

When she reached the elevator, she turned back. “Goodnight, Mr. Vance.”

“Ethan,” I corrected without thinking.

She paused, eyes meeting mine. “Goodnight, Ethan.”

I stood there for a while, unable to hide my smile.