Chapter 2: First Day
739 Words
I arrive at 6:45 a.m., heart already racing before the elevator even opens. The executive floor is still quiet—only the soft hum of the aircon and the distant city waking up beyond the glass. My desk sits right outside her office door: sleek black surface, dual monitors already powered on, a single fresh notepad aligned perfectly with the keyboard. I spent half the weekend memorizing every detail from the briefing packet she sent. Coffee machine preheated. Blinds tilted to exactly 45 degrees per her sticky note. Black coffee—no sugar, 85 degrees—already brewing so it’ll be ready the second she walks in.
When the elevator dings at 6:58, I straighten up like a soldier. She steps out in another perfectly tailored black suit, heels clicking with military precision on the marble. The morning light catches her again—sharp jawline, flawless skin, dark hair gleaming like polished obsidian. She moves like she owns gravity itself. I have to remind myself to breathe.
She doesn’t glance my way as she passes, but I call out anyway, keeping my voice bright and steady.
“Good morning, Ma’am Vicky. Your black coffee is on your desk—85 degrees exactly. Board meeting at 8:15, site visit in BGC at 9:45. The car is already reserved downstairs, and I’ve pulled the signing files. Should I bring anything else in?”
She stops just inside her doorway. Doesn’t turn fully, but there’s a tiny pause—long enough for me to notice.
“…You read the entire briefing folder?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Three times last night. I highlighted the key risk points and cross-referenced the competitor benchmarks so you can skim if needed.”
Another beat of silence. In the reflection of the glass partition, I see her turn her head justenough to look at me. Those dark eyes again—piercing, unreadable, beautiful in a way that makes my stomach flip even though I’m trying to stay professional.
“Don’t get cocky,” she says, voice low. “One mistake and you’re gone.”
“Understood, Ma’am. No mistakes today. Promise.”
She disappears into her office. The door closes with a soft, expensive click.
I sink back into my chair, exhaling slowly. My hands are trembling just a little—not from fear exactly, but from the sheer intensity of being near her. Every time she speaks, every time those eyes land on me, it’s like the air gets thinner. She’s terrifying, yes. Cold as the rumors say. But God, the way the light hits her profile when she turns toward the window… it’s distracting in the worst possible way. I’m supposed to be focusing on flawless execution, not memorizing the curve of her lips when she’s thinking.
I shake my head, force myself to open the task list. Emails, calendar sync, competitor report updates—focus, Alex.
Twenty minutes later, I hear the faint clink of her cup being set down inside. I wait the appropriate five minutes before quietly entering to collect it for a refill. The office is as pristine as yesterday. She’s already at her desk, back to the city view, typing rapidly.
I approach carefully, trying not to stare at the elegant line of her shoulders or the way a single strand of hair has escaped her bun and brushes her neck.
When I reach for the empty cup, I notice it: my little post-it from the interview day is still there, tucked neatly under a crystal paperweight like it’s part of the decor.
“Have a great day, Ma’am! 💙 – Alex”
She didn’t throw it away.
I don’t say anything. I just refill the cup—still exactly 85 degrees—set it back on her desk without a word, and slip out.
As the door closes behind me, I catch one last glimpse: her glancing at the fresh coffee, then—at the post-it—for the briefest second.
No smile. No acknowledgment.
But she didn’t remove it.
And somehow, that tiny detail makes the entire freezing office feel just a fraction warmer.
I sit back at my desk, heart still pounding, and whisper to myself.
“Okay, Alex. Survive day one. Don’t stare. Don’t melt. Just… do your job.”
Easier said than done when your boss looks like she stepped out of a high-fashion editorial and rules like she owns the world.
(To be continued…)
- Writer
