HIS PERSONAL ASSISTANT

chapter ten

Alicia swallowed, forcing her heartbeat to steady as the three interviewers flipped through her documents. The fluorescent lights hummed softly above, far too bright for how vulnerable she suddenly felt.

The woman in the center—Ms. Clara, according to her name tag—looked up first.

“Miss West,” she began, adjusting her glasses, “tell us a little about yourself.”

The classic opening question.

The one Camille had drilled into her head a hundred times.

Alicia inhaled slowly.

“My name is Alicia West,” she said, keeping her voice polite but firm. “I’m twenty-two years old, and I have experience in administrative duties from my previous job at Lanes Mall. I’m hardworking, organized, and I adapt quickly. I’m also committed to learning and improving wherever I work.”

Clara nodded slowly, expression unreadable.

“And why do you want to work here?” the man on the left asked without looking at her, flipping through her CV like he was searching for something to criticize.

Alicia’s fingers tightened slightly around her file.

Because I need the money. Because my brother needs me. Because I’m running out of time and hope.

But she couldn’t say any of that.

“This company is known for excellence,” she replied instead. “I want to contribute to a workplace where there is structure, growth, and high standards. I want to be part of something that challenges me.”

The second woman scribbled something on her notepad. Alicia couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

The man finally looked up. His eyes scanned her deliberately, the way some people scanned shelves for a product they weren’t sure they wanted.

“You don’t have a university degree,” he said bluntly.

A small flicker of embarrassment burned in her chest, but she kept her face neutral.

“No, sir,” she replied. “I started school but had to stop due to financial reasons. But I don’t allow that to stop me. I’ve taken several online courses, and I’m willing to pursue more if the company requires it.”

He hummed, like her answer barely passed.

Clara leaned forward. “Being a P.A. requires organization, calmness under pressure, and the ability to handle last-minute directives. Do you believe you can manage that?”

“Yes,” Alicia answered without hesitation. “I’ve handled difficult customers, resolved store conflicts, and managed scheduling during peak seasons. I stay calm even when things are overwhelming.”

Clara held her gaze for a moment, searching.

Alicia didn’t look away.

The woman scribbling finally asked, “If someone raises their voice at you, how do you respond?”

Alicia blinked. “Professionally,” she said. “I don’t escalate situations. I listen, I communicate clearly, and I maintain composure.”

“Hmm.”

More scribbling.

The interview continued—questions about responsibilities, about time management, about how she’d handle confidential information. Through each question, she felt a little more confident, like she was piecing together a version of herself that was strong enough to sit in this expensive chair.

But then the man asked:

“Why should we pick you over candidates who are more qualified?”

Her breath hitched.

That one… she hadn’t been prepared for.

For a moment, the room felt too quiet.

Then she said softly, “Because I won’t take this opportunity for granted.”

All three interviewers paused.

Alicia continued, voice steadier this time:

“I might not have the highest qualifications, but I have drive. I have discipline. And I have a reason to wake up every day and push myself harder than yesterday. If you hire me, I will prove your trust wasn’t misplaced.”

Her chest rose and fell slowly after she finished, her pulse thunderous in her ears.

For a fleeting second, Clara’s stern expression softened.

“We’ll get back to you once the shortlist is finalized,” she said.

That was the sign it was over.

Alicia stood, bowed her head politely, and thanked them before walking out of the room—legs shaky, palms damp, but somehow… proud.

The corridor felt colder now, the waiting seats emptier. Her feet took her toward the elevator almost automatically.

Inside the elevator, she finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

It was done.

Whether she had impressed them or failed miserably… she had no idea.

But at least she hadn’t frozen.

At least she hadn’t fainted.

At least she’d fought.

Down, down, down the elevator went, her reflection on the metallic doors staring back at her—a girl trying her absolute best in a world that never gave her enough space to breathe.

When the doors slid open at the ground floor, she stepped out into the massive lobby once more.

She could leave.

She could go home and wait.

But she stood there a little longer, staring up at the building’s towering structure.

This place was a universe she didn’t belong to.

And yet… she had walked in anyway.

Upstairs, on the top executive floor, Brian O’Connell was still in his office—leaning back in his chair, reviewing documents that carried names he hadn’t paid attention to yet.

One of them… was hers.

But Alicia didn’t know that.

Not yet.

She took one last deep breath and turned to leave the building.

And in that quiet moment, when she stepped out of the revolving doors and into the morning sunlight—

Fate quietly shifted.

Brian’s POV

I had been staring at the same line of text for the past five minutes.

Not because it was complicated.

Because my mind kept drifting back to a particular file I had reviewed earlier this morning.

**Alicia West.**

Her CV was… simple.

Too simple for the position she applied for.

No degree.

Minimal work experience.

Neat, but unimpressive credentials.

By all logic, her file should have gone into the discard pile.

And yet—

I found myself picking it up **again**.

I leaned back in my chair, tapping a finger lightly on the folder. Something about it refused to leave my head.

She didn’t have the best qualifications, but her cover letter…

It was honest. Clear.

Hungry.

Most people wrote what they thought I wanted to hear.

She wrote what she *meant*.

That alone made her stand out like ink on white paper.

I flipped the file open again, scanning her handwritten signature at the bottom of her application form.

Her handwriting was neat. Controlled. Determined.

Determined people… I liked those.

Still, HR had interviewed close to forty candidates today. Most of them had degrees, polished references, years of experience.

I shouldn’t be thinking about this one.

And yet—I was.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as I stood. I needed coffee. Real coffee. Not the weak nonsense my assistant brought earlier.

I grabbed the file anyway. I wasn’t done with it.

When I stepped out into the hallway, the floor was unusually quiet—most executives were in meetings, and my team knew not to disturb me during early hours.

My footsteps echoed softly.

Then—

I stopped walking.

Because someone was walking toward me from the opposite direction.

A young woman.

White shirt. Black skirt.

Visitor pass hanging from her chest.

Her hair was pulled into a neat low ponytail, and she walked carefully, like she was afraid to take up space.

She wasn’t from this floor.

HR interviews were much lower.

She looked slightly lost… and slightly breathless, like she had just escaped something.

When she looked up—

Our eyes met.

And I swear—she froze.

Just completely… froze.

Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag, her lips parted slightly, eyes widening like I had just stepped out of the pages of a book instead of an office.

Her stare was too raw to be rehearsed.

And strangely—

My pulse kicked.

For the briefest second, we just stood there, watching each other.

I didn’t know her.

At least, not really.

But I recognized her name.

And God help me, I wanted to know the girl who belonged to that file.

I cleared my throat lightly. “Are you lost?”

Her lips opened—then closed—then opened again.

She blinked rapidly, cheeks turning a shade pinker.

“N-No,” she said, though her voice betrayed the lie. “I-I mean—maybe. I just finished my interview with HR, and I was trying to find the elevator, but I took a wrong—uh—turn.”

Nervous.

Flustered.

Too honest for her own good.

Something warm tugged at the corner of my mouth.

“The elevator is the other way,” I said, nodding behind her.

“Oh,” she whispered, spinning too fast and nearly bumping into a wall.

I almost reached out a hand—almost—but stopped myself.

She quickly composed herself, clutching her bag. “Thank you, sir.”

Sir.

Good. She didn’t know who I was.

“Have a good day,” I said.

“You too,” she murmured, already rushing away like she couldn’t trust her legs to stay in my presence.

I watched her go—small steps, careful steps, but determined.

Then I glanced at the file in my hand.

Alicia West.

I smirked under my breath.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

I headed back to my office, file gripped tighter than before.

---

### **Alicia’s POV**

I’m stupid.

I’m so stupid.

Why didn’t I look where I was going?

Why did I walk onto the wrong floor?

Why did I freeze like a statue in front of that man?

God, he looked important.

Not just important—

**intimidatingly** important.

Tall.

Broad shoulders.

Perfectly tailored suit.

And the kind of face that made my brain short-circuit.

His eyes had been so sharp and direct I felt like he could see through every layer of me.

And I had stuttered.

Like an i***t.

I finally found the right elevator and stepped in, slumping against the corner as the doors closed.

My heart was still beating like I’d run up ten flights of stairs.

Whoever he was, I hoped I would never see him again.

My dignity wouldn’t survive it.

When the elevator reached the lobby, I stepped out, feeling the tension slowly drain from my shoulders.

My hands were still shaky.

I pushed open the revolving door and stepped outside into fresh, cool air—

Just as my phone rang.

I almost dropped it.

Camille.

Of course.

I answered. “Hey—”

“PENGUIN. Talk to me. Did you faint? Cry? Vomit? Tell me everything.”

I exhaled shakily. “Camille… something happened.”

“Oh my God. Did you punch someone?”

“No!”

“Then what? You’re stressing me!”

“I got lost. And then… I think I ran into someone important. Really important.”

“Define important.”

“Like… expensive-looking. The kind of man whose suit costs more than my kidney.”

Camille gasped. “You saw the CEO?”

“No!” I said quickly. “I don’t know. Maybe he was a manager or something. But Camille… I stuttered.”

“Oof.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat dramatically, “you can cringe about that later. Right now—did they like you? How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “They were hard to read.”

Before she could respond—

My phone beeped.

A second call was coming in.

Unknown number.

My stomach flipped.

“Camille… someone’s calling me.”

“Answer it!”

I swallowed and switched to the incoming call.

“Hello?” I said, trying to hide the tremble in my voice.

“Good morning,” a calm voice said. “Am I speaking with Miss Alicia West?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“This is Ms. Clara from B&D’s Human Resources.”

My breath caught.

“We would like to inform you that you have been shortlisted for the **second interview**, scheduled for tomorrow at 10 a.m. Kindly confirm your availability.”

Second interview.

Second.

Interview.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

“Yes,” I managed. “Yes, ma’am. I’m available. Thank you—thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Please come prepared. Have a good day.”

The call ended.

I stared at my phone.

Then—

I screamed.

Right in the middle of the sidewalk.

People stared. I didn’t care.

I called Camille back immediately.

“I GOT THE SECOND INTERVIEW!”

She screamed so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear.

Then, breathless:

“Alicia… you’re so getting that job.”

I wanted to believe her.

For the first time in a long time

I almost did.