Mia stood in front of Alexander’s desk, pretending not to notice how cold his gaze was.
She’d only been here five minutes, and she already wanted to throw her planner at him.
> “Sit,” he said, not looking up from his laptop.
She sat — carefully — trying not to fidget.
> “Starting today, you’ll handle my appointments, internal memos, and client coordination. Everything passes through you first.”
> “Got it, sir.”
> “Mistakes are unacceptable.”
> “Got it, sir.”
> “And no chatter during working hours.”
Mia blinked. “So… silence, po, all day?”
> “Yes.”
She leaned closer, whispering, “Sir, baka ma-bore kayo sa katahimikan.”
Alexander finally looked up — one brow raised.
> “Miss Ramirez, this is not a comedy bar.”
She smiled anyway. “Noted, Sir Ice Man.”
The pen in his hand froze midair.
> “What did you call me?”
> “Ah—nothing, sir!” she said quickly, looking away, biting her lip to hide her grin.
For the first time, a flicker of something — amusement? annoyance? — crossed his face.
> “Do not call me that again.”
> “Yes, sir,” she said sweetly.
(But deep inside, she was already planning to.)
---
Hours passed. Mia tried to keep up with his pace — his schedule was merciless, his standards worse.
By 6:00 PM, everyone had gone home. Everyone except them.
> “Sir, you haven’t eaten lunch,” Mia said quietly.
> “Noted.”
> “Sir, it’s 6 PM.”
> “Then it’s dinner time.”
She sighed. “You really live up to your nickname, ha. Mr. Ice Man indeed.”
Alexander’s hand paused mid-typing. His eyes met hers — cold, but something soft flickered behind them.
> “People call me that for a reason,” he said.
> “Maybe they just don’t see the real you yet.”
The room went silent.
He stared at her — longer than he meant to.
And for one fleeting second… he almost smiled.