Of All People,It's You

IN TOO DEEP

"What are you doing here... Mr. Garrett?" The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he closes the file in front of him, rises from his chair, and buttons his suit jacket with practiced ease.

"Good afternoon, Miss Ellis."

I blink. "...I don't understand."

My eyes drift past his broad shoulders. Resting neatly on the polished dark wood desk is a sleek silver nameplate:

**GARRETT WILLIAM BOISNOIR**

*President*

My mouth falls open. I look from the nameplate back to him. "...You're Mr. Boisnoir?"

He gives a small, calm nod.

I shake my head in pure disbelief. "But... you're the Project Director."

"I am."

My brain refuses to catch up. This makes absolutely zero sense.

A sharp knock sounds against the double doors. "Come in," he calls out.

Ivy steps inside carrying a silver tray. "Your tea, sir." She places the cup on his desk before turning to me with a warm, beaming smile. "Mr. Boisnoir, this is Miss Diane Ellis, your new Executive Secretary. I'll be completing her handover this afternoon, and she'll officially resume duties on Monday."

Did she just say *Mr. Boisnoir*? I am completely unable to take my eyes off the nameplate. Is this real life?

"I see," he says, his intense green eyes settling on me again. "Congratulations on your appointment, Miss Ellis."

"Th-thank you, sir." I immediately drop my gaze, staring directly at the tips of my shoes.

Ivy smiles between the two of us. "Excuse me, sir."

The heavy door clicks shut behind her, leaving us in total silence. He studies my rigid posture for a brief second before speaking.

"Is putting your head down your preferred method of avoiding recognition?"

Heat rushes violently to my face. "Erm... sorry, sir." I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. "I still don't understand. Are you Mr. Boisnoir's stand-in? If not, why were you interviewing candidates as the Project Director?"

He slips one hand into his trouser pocket. "I am Garrett Boisnoir. Don’t be confused, Miss Ellis. As for the Project Director role, I oversee the company's major projects personally, and the title tends to attract far less attention than 'President.'"

Actually, that makes sense.

His voice remains perfectly smooth. "It also allows candidates and clients to interact with me without adjusting their behaviour because of my position. And I prefer selecting my Executive Secretary myself."

That means... I pause, the realization hitting me. "But... outside the lift... you told me you didn't vote for me."

"I said no such thing."

I look at him, completely bewildered.

"You appear to have a habit of hearing what you expect, rather than what is actually said, Miss Ellis." He pauses, a faint glint in his eye. "I told you the panel reached its decision anonymously. I never stated how I voted."

My mouth opens, then closes. I quickly replay the conversation in my head, word for word. He's right. He never actually said he voted against me.

"...So..." I hesitate, my chest tightening. "Does that mean you selected me?"

"I said *anonymously*," he retorts, a wicked smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Embarrassment creeps up my neck for what feels like the hundredth time since meeting this man. I don't get it. Does he want me here or not?

"I trust you now appreciate the gravity of your offence, Miss Ellis?"

I blink. "What's that, sir?"

"The eight-grand suit." His smirk grows just a fraction wider.

"I am terribly sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions." I bite down hard on my lower lip.

"It's okay, you've already apologized." He sets his cup back onto its saucer with a soft clink. "Though I must admit, it wasn't your most graceful performance. Fortunately, your new salary should make repayment considerably easier."

"Huh?" My eyes grow wide. Is he seriously still on that?

"You said you dislike owing people. I wouldn't want to put you in that position, especially now that we are working together."

I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

"Th-thank you, sir," I stammer. Why on earth am I thanking him for putting me in debt?!

He glances at the clock on the wall. "Ivy will complete your induction. I expect you'll make good use of it and be fully ready to resume on Monday."

I nod quickly. "Yes, sir."

"Miss Ellis."

I glance up. "Yeah?"

"You can take the cup of coffee away."

I reach for the tray to clean up Ivy's drop-off, and then I see it. My twenty-pound note is sitting neatly beside the saucer. I look up at him, completely stunned.

He looks dead into my eyes, maintaining his statue-like, immovable posture. "I don't accept deposits. You can pay the full thing whenever you are ready."

I remain rooted to the spot for another second. A huge, silent scoff bubbles up in my throat. *This petty, arrogant bastard.* This is how you want to play it, huh?

He looks back down at the paperwork on his desk, completely dismissing me.

"...Thank you, sir," escapes my mouth before I can stop it. He gives a faint nod without looking up, and I quietly let myself out.

The heavy door clicks shut behind me, and I finally release the massive breath I've been holding. "What on earth just happened?"

My trembling legs somehow carry me back toward Ivy's office. She looks up from a stack of files and smiles warmly. "There you are. I was wondering if Mr. Boisnoir had already scared you away."

I force out something that vaguely resembles a laugh. "No... not yet." She studies my pale face for half a second. "Would you like some tea, Diane?"

"Actually... could you tell me where the restroom is?"

"Of course." She points down the brightly lit hallway. "Second door on the left."

"Thank you."

The moment I step inside the luxury restroom and lock the door, I grip the edge of the marble sink. "...You've got to be kidding me."

I stare at my reflection and splash freezing water onto my face. "The statue guy... is really Mr. Boisnoir. My boss." I let out a long breath before laughing quietly to myself at the sheer absurdity of it. "What kind of luck do I actually have?"

Out of every company in Manchester, every corporate president. Out of all people, it's *you*, Garrett.

Oh, how I dislike that name. It has brought me nothing but the worst kind of luck since the moment I heard it, and now... now I'm actively in debt to him.

Shit. I just had to open my big mouth this morning and say I'd pay for the suit. What was the point of accepting my apology if he's going to hold a financial leash over me?

I look down at the crumpled twenty-pound note in my hand. My reflection smirks back at me in the mirror. *“I don't take deposits.”* Gosh, he is unbelievably immature.

I lean against the sink and close my eyes, forcing my racing heart to slow down. *Okay. You wanted this job. You need to be in this building….for Dad.*

I nod firmly at my reflection. "I'm in too deep. There's no going back now."

I straighten my blazer, smooth down my ponytail, and give myself one final, determined look in the mirror.

When I return to the office, Ivy is waiting with another stack of neatly organized folders. "There you are," she smiles. "Ready?"

"I think so."

The rest of the afternoon slips by surprisingly fast. Ivy walks me through executive schedules, travel arrangements, confidential documents, meeting protocols, and what feels like a thousand tiny details only an Executive Secretary is expected to juggle. By the time we finish, my notebook is completely full.

"I think that's enough information for one day," Ivy laughs, closing her binder.

"I heavily agree."

She walks me all the way to the executive lifts. "See you on Monday, Miss Ellis."

"Of course... and thank you for everything, Ivy."

"My pleasure."

An hour later, the train drops me off, and my feet naturally carry me right back to where this entire chaotic day started.

The Copper Kettle.