Boardroom and Heartbeats

Cracks in the Armor

The day at Steele Innovations had barely started, but Lena already felt the weight of it pressing down on her shoulders. As Amelia handed her the thick stack of reports, the magnitude of the task ahead seemed insurmountable. The text swam in front of her eyes as she hurried back to her desk, her thoughts running in overdrive.

She sat down, spread the papers out across her workspace, and immediately dove in. Pages of statistics and projections glared back at her, and while she had a decent grasp of corporate lingo from her years as a journalist, this level of depth and specificity was a new battlefield.

“You can do this,” she muttered to herself, her pen flying over a notepad as she began piecing the reports together into something coherent. Each margin filled up with shorthand notes—red flags here, promising trends there.

The minutes ticked by, then an hour. Lena barely noticed when her coffee grew cold, too focused on highlighting discrepancies and summarizing key findings. Her dedication paid off—when she finished the last page, she had a clear summary and a handful of pointed questions that might provoke interesting responses during the meeting.

She didn’t know what Donovan Steele’s reaction would be, but she had no intention of showing up unprepared.

A Test in the Boardroom

As Lena followed Donovan into the boardroom an hour later, her nerves churned. The space was intimidating, and not just because of its sleek, modern design. The dozen people seated around the table radiated wealth and influence, their eyes sharp and calculating as they flicked to Donovan—and then to her.

“Ms. Moreau, my assistant,” Donovan said by way of introduction, his tone clipped but firm.

Lena nodded at the board members, feeling their appraising stares like a weight on her chest. Her mind raced through every fact and figure she’d just memorized, bracing herself for the moment she’d need to speak.

The meeting began briskly, with Donovan outlining the company’s recent achievements in his precise, no-nonsense manner. Lena marveled at the way he commanded the room—his voice was calm but firm, his words perfectly chosen to cut through any objections before they could even be raised.

But when the discussion turned to the quarterly growth projections, one of the board members—a silver-haired man with a perpetual frown—cleared his throat.

“Mr. Steele,” he began, “I noticed that client retention numbers have plateaued this quarter. Could this be an indication of weakening customer loyalty, particularly in the face of our competitors’ recent AI developments?”

Donovan’s gaze flicked to Lena, his expression unreadable. “Ms. Moreau, the floor is yours.”

The room went silent, all eyes turning to her. Lena’s pulse thundered in her ears, but she forced herself to sit up straight and meet the board member’s gaze.

“Our retention rates have held steady despite industry fluctuations,” she began, her voice steady. “However, there’s a potential dip projected for the next quarter if development timelines are delayed. This risk can be mitigated by accelerating key phases of the AI rollout and reinforcing customer confidence through targeted marketing campaigns.”

The silver-haired man raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. Another board member—a woman in a striking emerald blazer—leaned forward.

“And you’re confident these adjustments can be made without straining our resources?”

“Yes,” Lena said, her confidence growing. “The data indicates that while the adjustments will require additional short-term investments, the long-term ROI is projected to outweigh the costs.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the silver-haired board member nodded. “Impressive analysis.”

Donovan’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

The meeting continued, and by the end, Lena felt a strange mixture of relief and exhilaration. She’d held her own in a room full of titans—and Donovan had let her.

Back at Her Desk

Returning to her desk, Lena barely had time to process the meeting before Elliot appeared, leaning against the edge of her workspace.

“Congratulations,” he said, his grin as easy as ever. “You just survived your first board meeting with Donovan Steele. That’s no small feat.”

“Survived is the right word,” Lena replied, leaning back in her chair. “I feel like I just ran a mental marathon.”

Elliot chuckled. “Welcome to the club. Donovan doesn’t usually let new assistants anywhere near the boardroom. You must have impressed him.”

“Or he’s testing me,” Lena said, her brows furrowing. “Trying to see if I’ll crack under pressure.”

“Maybe,” Elliot said, his tone growing more serious. “But here’s a little advice: don’t let his tests get to you. Donovan’s... complicated. He’s not the kind of guy who lets people in easily.”

Lena tilted her head. “Why’s that?”

Elliot hesitated, as if debating whether to say more. Finally, he sighed. “Donovan’s brilliant, but he’s also a perfectionist. He’s built this company from the ground up, and he takes that responsibility seriously. Too seriously, sometimes. He doesn’t trust easily—probably because he’s been burned before.”

Lena frowned, her journalistic instincts kicking in. “Burned how?”

Elliot opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen and felt her stomach flip.

“Donovan needs me in his office,” she said, already standing.

Elliot nodded, stepping back. “Good luck.”

The Gala Invitation

When Lena stepped into Donovan’s office, he was standing by the windows, his back to her.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, clutching her tablet.

Donovan turned, his expression calm but focused. “Clear your evening.”

Her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“There’s a gala tonight,” he said, striding toward his desk. “It’s a charity event. I’ll need you there to take notes and handle follow-ups with potential investors.”

Lena opened her mouth to protest but quickly shut it. She couldn’t afford to argue—not when she was still trying to prove herself.

“Understood,” she said. “What time should I meet you there?”

“You’ll come with me,” Donovan replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “My driver will pick you up at seven. Dress appropriately.”

Before Lena could respond, he turned back to his computer, dismissing her without another word.

As she left the office, her thoughts raced. A gala? With Donovan Steele? She hadn’t signed up for this.

But as she stood in front of her closet that evening, staring at the limited selection of dresses she owned, Lena felt a spark of determination.

If Donovan was willing to bring her into his world outside the office, this was her chance to get closer to him—and closer to the truth.