Chapter 3
967 Words
I was still getting used to Adrian’s mood swings—the way he alternated between “stone statue” and “annoyingly observant”—when the elevator doors slid open and a man stepped into the office.
Everything about him screamed power. The silver hair slicked back. The navy suit tailored within an inch of its life. The Rolex that probably cost more than my entire village in Enugu. Even the way he walked, like the floor should be grateful for his footsteps.
Adrian stood immediately, face hardening. “Father.”
Father. Of course.
The man’s gaze flicked to me. Sharp, assessing, dismissive all in one glance. “And this is?”
“Assistant,” Adrian said simply.
I jumped up, fumbling with my notebook. “Chinelo Okafor, sir. Nice to meet you.”
His handshake never came. He just nodded once, then turned back to his son. “Board meeting in ten. You’re not prepared.”
Adrian’s jaw flexed. “I’m always prepared.”
“No, you’re always reckless,” Mr. Hayes shot back. His voice was calm, but it cut deeper than a shout. “Your ideas are too risky. The board is nervous.”
Adrian’s eyes flicked to me, then back to his father. “I’ll handle it.”
“You’d better,” his father said. Then, with a glance at me: “Don’t get too comfortable, Miss Okafor. My son’s assistants rarely last.”
And just like that, he strode out, leaving the air colder than before.
I blinked. Did this family come with a manual? Because I was clearly unqualified.
Adrian muttered something under his breath, running a hand through his perfect hair. For the first time, he looked… human. Frustrated. Almost tired.
Then his eyes snapped back to me. “Notebook. Now.”
I shoved it into his hand.
He flipped it open, scanning the notes I’d scribbled all morning. His brows rose. “You reorganized my schedule?”
“Yes,” I said cautiously. “Your system was… messy.”
His head shot up. “Messy?”
I lifted my chin. “Chaotic. Inefficient. And honestly, half your calendar looked like it was designed by someone with ADHD.”
For a second, I thought I’d gone too far. Then his lips twitched into that not-smile again. “You’ve got nerve.”
“Better than having none,” I muttered.
The corner of his mouth curved, but he quickly shut it down. “You’re coming to the meeting.”
“What? Why?”
“Because apparently you think you know my schedule better than me.”
Panic shot through me. Board meeting? With billionaires? I was still learning which subway lines connected to my shoebox apartment.
But there was no arguing with Adrian Hayes. He was already striding toward the door.
The boardroom was a cathedral of glass and money. Twelve men and women sat around a polished table, all in expensive suits, all staring at Adrian like he was the sacrificial lamb.
I slid into a seat at the edge, clutching my pen like it was holy water.
Adrian launched into his pitch something about expanding into Africa, new tech infrastructure, major investment. He spoke with confidence, but I could see it: the flicker of doubt when his father interrupted, the tension in his jaw when another board member questioned his numbers.
The sharks were circling.
I scribbled notes furiously, my brain piecing together patterns. They weren’t just skeptical they were baiting him, waiting for him to slip.
And then it happened.
One of the older men leaned back, smirking. “With respect, Adrian, your numbers don’t add up. You’re projecting growth without accounting for unstable markets.”
Adrian’s shoulders stiffened. He opened his mouth, but before I could stop myself, words tumbled out of mine.
“That’s not true.”
The room went silent. Every head turned toward me.
My stomach dropped. Oh God, Chinelo, shut up.
But my mouth had other plans.
“You’re looking at the wrong model,” I said, forcing my voice not to shake. “If you factor in the mobile penetration rates across Sub-Saharan Africa and the adoption curve for fintech solutions, the growth is not only possible—it’s inevitable. You just don’t understand the market because you’ve never lived there.”
The boardroom froze.
Adrian’s father’s eyes narrowed. Adrian’s lips parted slightly, shock flashing across his face.
And me? I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
The board member cleared his throat. “And you are…?”
“Assistant,” I said weakly.
A beat of silence. Then Adrian leaned back, smirking like a cat who’d found cream.
“She’s right,” he said smoothly. “Check the numbers again. You’ll see the projections hold.”
Murmurs rippled across the table.
For once, Adrian had the upper hand. Because of me.
When the meeting finally ended, the board members filed out, some still glancing at me curiously.
The second the door shut, I turned on him. “Why didn’t you stop me? I could’ve gotten fired on day two!”
His eyes glittered with amusement. “Because you were brilliant.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You saw what they didn’t. You weren’t afraid to say it.” He stepped closer, voice low. “You just saved my ass in there, Miss Okafor.”
Heat shot up my neck. “You’re welcome. But next time, warn me before throwing me into billionaire shark tanks.”
His lips curved into that dangerous almost-smile again. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing.
Because the truth was, I was starting to see cracks in Adrian Hayes’s armor. And if I wasn’t careful… I might just fall through them.
- Writer
