No Names After Midnight

Chapter 4 - The test

Saturday comes around much faster than I expected.

My first week at Star Industries has been a blur of meetings, research, emails and an unhealthy amount of coffee.

Honestly, I'm surprised I survived it.

But no matter how busy I've been, one thing keeps finding its way back into my thoughts.

Lories Dungeons.

My very first task from Alex Underwood himself.

He called me into his office and specifically told me to arrange a meeting with them for two o'clock. Yet when I called, they seemed to already know him.

Not professionally, either.

The usual.

Those words have been stuck in my head all week.

Then, when Alex saw that I'd arranged it for eight that evening, he suddenly claimed the task had been assigned to me by mistake.

How?

He was the one who gave it to me.

Personally.

So either Alex Underwood somehow forgot what came out of his own mouth, or there's something about Lories Dungeons he doesn't want me knowing.

And judging by how uncomfortable he looked when we spoke about it...

I'm going with the second option.

Still, I have bigger things to worry about.

Like keeping my job.

I'm still on probation, and every tiny mistake makes me wonder if I'll be assistant number six to disappear from Star Industries.

Well, technically the other five quit.

But still.

I'm determined not to become number six.

I'm curled up on my sofa with my laptop balanced across my legs when a notification appears in the corner of the screen.

New email.

I almost ignore it.

It's Saturday.

For once, I don't want to think about work.

Then I notice the sender.

Alex Underwood.

Of course.

I open it.

Dear Alice,

I hope your weekend is going well. Unfortunately, a last-minute meeting has arisen, and I require you to be present today at 3:00 p.m. in my office.

I trust you won't let me down, particularly while you are still within your probationary period.

Kind regards,

Alex Underwood

I stare at the screen.

Then at the time.

2:00 p.m.

My stomach drops.

"Fuck."

I jump from the sofa.

"f**k, f**k, f**k!"

One hour.

I have one hour.

The drive normally takes ten minutes, but on a Saturday afternoon, traffic can be horrendous. If I'm unlucky, I could easily be sitting in the car for the best part of an hour.

And I'm not even dressed.

I look down at myself.

Oversized hoodie.

Grey sweatpants.

Crocs.

Perfect attire for assisting one of New York's youngest billionaires.

I briefly consider changing.

Then I look at the clock again.

Absolutely not.

"He knew what he was doing," I mutter.

There is no way Alex expects someone to see an email exactly one hour before a Saturday meeting and somehow appear looking perfectly professional.

This is impossible.

Which means he's testing me.

Fine.

If he wants to play games, he can play them.

But I'm not giving him the satisfaction of watching me fail.

I grab my handbag, keys and iPad from the table and race out of the apartment.

Professional dignity can wait.

Today, Alice Richmond is going to Star Industries dressed like she's heading to buy snacks at midnight.

Fantastic.

⸻

Traffic is worse than I feared.

By the time I finally pull into the Star Industries parking lot, I'm fifteen minutes late.

Fifteen.

Minutes.

Late.

I don't even bother checking myself in the mirror.

There is nothing I can do to save this outfit anyway.

I practically sprint through the building.

The place feels strange on a Saturday.

Empty.

Silent.

Without hundreds of employees moving through the corridors, the enormous building suddenly feels even bigger.

I reach the elevator, repeatedly press the button as though that will somehow make it move faster, and finally make it to the eleventh floor.

Sixteen minutes late.

Brilliant.

I push through Alex's office doors.

He's sitting behind his desk.

Alone.

No meeting.

No executives.

No paperwork spread across the table.

Nothing.

He's simply sitting there.

Looking at his watch.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

His gaze slowly rises to mine.

"Alice."

My heart sinks.

"There you are."

He glances at his watch again.

"Sixteen minutes late."

My chest tightens.

This is it.

I'm getting fired.

After one week.

I can already feel tears threatening behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Underwood." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "I only saw your email an hour ago. I came as quickly as I could. Please don't fire me, sir."

Silence.

Complete, horrible silence.

Alex stares at me.

Something changes in his expression.

For a second, I could swear colour rises into his cheeks.

Is he—

Blushing?

No.

Absolutely not.

Alex Underwood does not blush.

His eyes travel slowly down my body.

Not in a way that feels inappropriate.

More like he's trying very hard to process what he's looking at.

The hoodie.

The sweatpants.

The Crocs.

One corner of his mouth lifts.

"I can see that."

His gaze returns to mine.

"Given your... outfit choice."

I look down.

Right.

My dignity.

Gone forever.

He removes his glasses slightly, resting them lower on his nose as he studies me.

"Relax, Alice. You're not being fired."

Air rushes from my lungs.

"Oh."

"I asked you here because I wanted to see how committed you are to this position."

I stare at him.

"Sorry?"

"A test, if you want to call it that."

A test.

He dragged me across the city on my day off for a test?

"Most people wouldn't sacrifice their Saturday with such little notice."

I feel heat begin to crawl up my neck.

Not embarrassment this time.

Anger.

This man—

This arrogant, rich—

"Since you're here," Alex continues casually, "would you mind getting me a coffee from the café across the street?"

My jaw almost drops.

Coffee.

He called me into work on a Saturday.

Gave me one hour's notice.

Threatened my probation.

Watched me panic over being late.

For coffee?

Are you f*****g kidding me?

I swear I can physically feel my blood pressure rising.

Calm down, Alice.

You need this job.

Do not tell the billionaire to shove his triple espresso somewhere the sun doesn't shine.

Alex watches me carefully.

Almost too carefully.

Like he's waiting to see what I'll do.

Maybe this is part of his stupid little test too.

Maybe he wants me to lose my temper.

Maybe this is exactly why five assistants quit in four weeks.

Fine.

He wants commitment?

I'll show him commitment.

I straighten my shoulders and force every trace of anger from my face.

"Yes, of course, sir."

His eyebrow lifts.

Something flickers at the corner of his mouth.

A smile?

No.

More like he's trying not to smile.

What is wrong with this man?

"There's a coffee shop directly across the street," he says.

"I noticed."

His lips twitch again.

I turn before he can see the expression on my face.

Sorry, Mr Underwood.

You're not getting rid of me that easily.

⸻

The bell above the café door rings as I step inside.

At least the place is warm.

And smells incredible.

I approach the counter.

"Hi. Can I get a triple espresso, please?"

"Of course."

I look up properly at the barista.

Oh.

Okay.

Hello.

He's probably somewhere around my age, maybe a little older, with messy blond hair, broad shoulders and an annoyingly nice smile.

Why does everyone in this part of New York look like they walked out of a magazine?

"That'll just be a few minutes," he says.

"Thanks."

I step aside.

Under different circumstances, maybe I'd flirt.

Maybe.

But considering I'm wearing Crocs, running on pure rage and currently purchasing coffee for the world's most irritating billionaire, today probably isn't the day.

Get your mind out of the gutter, Alice.

My number is called a few minutes later.

I collect the coffee and turn towards the door.

"A bit rushed today?"

I glance back.

The blond barista is smiling at me.

"You have no idea."

He laughs.

I push through the door and start walking back towards Star Industries.

"Miss!"

I stop.

Footsteps rush behind me.

The barista.

"Sorry." He holds something out. "You dropped this."

My breath catches.

A photograph.

I immediately take it from his hand.

"Oh my God."

My chest tightens.

It must have slipped from my purse when I paid.

"Thank you."

My voice comes out quieter than I intended.

The picture is slightly worn around the edges from how often I've carried it.

My parents stand together in the photograph, my mother laughing while my dad has one arm wrapped around her waist.

It's my favourite picture of them.

Taken before the accident.

Before everything changed.

Before they were taken from me.

I run my thumb gently along the edge.

Losing it would have destroyed me.

"Seriously," I tell him. "Thank you. You have no idea how important this is."

His smile softens.

"No problem. Glad I caught you."

I carefully slide the photograph back into my purse, this time making absolutely sure the zip is closed.

Then I look at the coffee in my other hand.

Right.

The tyrant upstairs.

"Thanks again."

"Anytime."

I hurry back across the road.

⸻

When I return to Alex's office, something feels different immediately.

The atmosphere has changed.

Before, Alex had been sitting behind his desk looking almost amused by the entire situation.

Now he isn't.

He's standing beside the windows with his back partially turned towards me, one hand gripping his phone.

His shoulders are tense.

Very tense.

I slow my steps.

"Your coffee."

He turns.

His expression stops me.

Whatever humour had been there before is completely gone.

His jaw is tight.

His eyes are darker than usual.

Angry.

No.

Not just angry.

Furious.

I place the cup carefully on his desk.

"Triple espresso."

Nothing.

He barely looks at it.

Okay.

Something definitely happened while I was gone.

I hesitate.

"Is everything okay?"

His eyes snap towards mine.

For several seconds, he says absolutely nothing.

The silence stretches between us.

Maybe I shouldn't have asked.

Actually, I definitely shouldn't have asked.

I'm his assistant, not his therapist.

"Sorry," I say quickly. "None of my business."

I turn towards the door.

"Alice."

I stop.

Slowly, I look back.

Alex is still staring at me.

But his expression has changed again.

Less anger.

Something else.

Something I can't read.

His eyes drop briefly towards my handbag.

Then back to my face.

"Who was that man?"

I blink.

"What man?"

"The one outside the café."

My eyebrows pull together.

"The barista?"

"Yes."

I stare at him.

How does he even know I spoke to the barista?

Then my eyes drift towards the enormous windows behind him.

The café is directly across the street.

He saw us.

Interesting.

"He was just returning something I dropped."

Alex's jaw tightens.

"What?"

"A photograph."

I don't know why I answer.

Maybe because the intensity in his expression has caught me completely off guard.

"A photograph of who?"

Now I really stare at him.

Why does he care?

I clutch the strap of my handbag.

"My parents."

Something in Alex's face changes instantly.

The tension in his jaw disappears.

His expression softens.

Only slightly.

But enough for me to notice.

"Oh."

His eyes stay on mine.

"I see."

I wait for him to say something else.

He doesn't.

Instead, he walks towards his desk, picks up the espresso and takes a sip as though this conversation never happened.

I stand there completely confused.

"Is that everything?"

He nods.

"For now."

Right.

Of course.

I head towards the elevator.

The doors slide open.

"Alice?"

Again?

I turn.

Alex is watching me over the rim of his coffee cup.

"Thank you for coming in today."

For once, there's no sarcasm in his voice.

No challenge.

No teasing.

Just sincerity.

I hesitate.

"You're welcome."

The elevator doors close between us.

I stare at my reflection in the polished metal.

What the hell was that?

One minute he's deliberately dragging me into work on my day off just to test me.

The next, he's watching me through a window and questioning me about another man.

And then there was the look on his face when I mentioned my parents.

There is something about Alex Underwood that I cannot figure out.

Something hidden beneath the expensive suits, arrogant remarks and impossible expectations.

And the more time I spend around him...

The more I want to know what it is.