Chapter Five
1088 Words
I didn’t even get to fully process my surroundings before I was called.
“Cruz.”
I turned immediately.
A man stood a few steps away from me.
Mid-forties. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes. The kind of man who looked like he could fire someone just by remembering their name incorrectly.
“Yes… that’s me,” I said cautiously.
He gave a quick scan of me.
Not rude.
Just… evaluating.
Then he nodded.
“Follow me.”
No introduction. No explanation. No “welcome to Voss Industries.”
Just movement.
Perfect.
I sighed under my breath.
“First day and I’m already being collected like a delivery package.”
We walked through the floor.
And I immediately noticed something.
This level of Voss Industries was different.
The lower floors had noise—typing, phones ringing, normal chaos.
But here?
Quiet.
Controlled.
Like even breathing had guidelines.
People glanced up as we passed, then quickly looked away.
Not curiosity.
Respect.
Or fear.
Either way, I didn’t like it.
“So,” I said, trying to keep up with him, “am I in trouble already or is this the ‘welcome to your doom’ tour?”
He glanced at me briefly.
Then—
he laughed.
A short, surprised laugh.
That caught me off guard.
“Oh no,” he said, still amused. “If you were in trouble already, you wouldn’t be walking.”
I blinked.
“…that’s comforting and terrifying at the same time.”
He chuckled again.
“I’ll take that as progress.”
Okay.
He had personality.
Unexpected.
We turned a corner.
Glass walls. Private offices. Security badges on everything.
I tightened my grip on my folder.
“So what exactly is my role again?” I asked. “Because I read the email, but it felt like it was written to confuse me on purpose.”
He glanced at me again.
“Executive assistant.”
I paused.
“…to who?”
He stopped walking.
Looked at me properly this time.
And smiled faintly.
“To Mr. Voss.”
I nodded.
“Okay. And Mr. Voss is…?”
The silence that followed was almost comedic.
Then he laughed again.
This one longer.
“Oh,” he said. “You really didn’t know, did you?”
I frowned.
“…know what?”
He just shook his head slightly, still smiling.
“You’ll see.”
I did not like that answer.
Not even a little.
We stopped in front of large black double doors.
No nameplate.
No decoration.
Just power.
He pushed one open.
“Go in,” he said.
I hesitated.
“…you’re not coming with me?”
He shook his head.
“Nope.”
Pause.
“Good luck.”
Then he smiled like I was about to experience something interesting.
And left.
Just like that.
I stood there for a moment.
“…why did that feel like a warning,” I muttered.
Then I pushed the door open.
The room was massive.
Too massive.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showing the entire city like it belonged to this room.
A desk that looked more expensive than my entire life savings.
And sitting behind it
him?
The man from the elevator?
Still.
Calm.
Composed.
Same black suit.
Same unreadable expression.
Same quiet presence that made everything else feel smaller.
My brain paused.
Then rebooted.
No.
No way.
That guy?
That random “morning” guy?
The CEO?
“Ah s**t”
The silence in my head got loud.
He looked up.
His eyes met mine.
And I swear—
there was a flicker.
Recognition.
Very slight.
Then gone.
He leaned back slightly.
“Come in,” he said.
I did.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like sudden movements might get me fired.
Behind me, the door closed.
Now it was just us.
I forced my brain to function.
“Hi,” I said quickly. “I’m Elena Cruz. Your new executive assistant.”
Pause.
“…executive assistant,” I repeated, because it suddenly felt important to say it correctly.
Why did I feel like I needed to impress him?
I don’t know.
He nodded once.
“Adrian Voss.”
Of course.
Of course that was his name.
Of course the elevator guy wasn’t just some random rich employee.
Of course my life had comedic timing.
Silence stretched.
He studied me for a moment.
Not uncomfortable.
Just observant.
Then he slid a file toward me.
“Your role starts immediately,” he said.
I blinked.
“…immediately?”
“Yes.”
I opened it.
Pages.
So many pages.
My soul left my body briefly.
“This is your schedule,” he continued. “Meetings, reports, communication handling. Anything I require goes through you.”
I looked up.
“…anything?”
“Yes.”
That word again.
Dangerous word.
I nodded slowly.
“Okay,” I said carefully. “That sounds… manageable. Probably.”
Why did I say probably?
I flipped a page.
Then another.
Then frowned.
“This is… very detailed,” I said.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
I cleared my throat.
“So,” I said, trying to sound normal, “how long has this position been empty?”
He leaned slightly forward.
“Three weeks.”
“That’s it?” I blinked.
“Yes.”
“…and I was chosen out of…?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Just looked at me.
Then said:
“You were selected.”
That wasn’t an explanation.
That was a conclusion.
I did not like that either.
I exhaled slowly.
“Okay,” I said, trying to ground myself. “So… what’s the first thing I should handle?”
He tapped the file lightly.
“Learn how the company operates. Everything else follows.”
Simple.
Direct.
Final.
I nodded.
“Got it.”
Then hesitated.
“…and just to confirm,” I added carefully, “you’re the boss boss?”
A pause.
A very small shift in his expression.
Not quite a smile.
Almost.
“Yes,” he said.
Oh.
So I had been casually insulting my CEO in an elevator.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
I closed the file slowly.
Trying to act normal.
Trying and failing internally.
Because my brain kept replaying:
“I heard the boss here is intense.”
I had said that.
To his face.
Without knowing.
I exhaled.
“…right,” I said softly.
Then added with forced confidence:
“Great. I love intense workplaces.”
Silence.
He watched me for a second longer.
Then said:
“You’ll adjust.”
Not a question.
A statement.
And somehow…
I believed him.
Which was worse.
- Writer
