Yes Daddy

The New Director

Monday morning started with extra lip gloss and a touch more confidence than usual.

Not because I cared. Of course not. It was just… presentation day. New quarter. Fresh face in management. Nothing more.

Okay, maybe I woke up a little earlier than usual. Maybe I tried on three blouses before picking the white silk one that hugged my waist just right. But that was strategy, not vanity. When you work in a place where impressions are currency, you make sure your account is full.

The office was buzzing again paper rustling, heels clacking, whispers darting between cubicles. I walked in with my coffee like I owned the building, because in many ways, I did. My campaigns kept this place alive.

Clara practically bounced over to me. “He’s here.”

“Who?”

She gave me a look. “Who do you think?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, that.”

That. As if I hadn’t been subconsciously thinking about it all weekend.

“He’s in with the board right now,” she whispered. “They say he’s… intimidating.”

“Good,” I said smoothly. “Maybe it’ll keep everyone from turning the office into a gossip circus.”

But deep down, my pulse quickened. Intimidating was my type of challenge.

I settled at my desk, pretending to be buried in emails while my mind painted a hundred versions of him. Sharp jawline? Probably. Strong voice? Definitely. The kind of man who didn’t ask for attention he commanded it.

By ten, a meeting request popped up on my screen.

> Subject: Project Integration

Attendees: Ethan Ward, Ava Collins

Time: 10:30 AM

Location: Conference Room B

Well, that didn’t take long.

I smirked. “So it begins.”

Clara peeked around my cubicle. “Is that—?”

“Yep.”

She squealed. “You have to tell me everything.”

“I’ll write a report,” I said dryly, standing up to smooth my blouse. My reflection in the monitor winked back at me poised, polished, a woman who didn’t flinch easily.

When I walked into Conference Room B, the air shifted. He was already there back turned, adjusting something on the projector.

Even from behind, he looked like authority in a suit. Tall, broad-shouldered, precise movements. His voice, when he spoke to the tech guy, was low and steady, like silk over steel.

Then he turned around.

And every pre-drawn image in my head shattered.

He wasn’t handsome in the ordinary way he was striking. Sharp cheekbones, hair the color of dark coffee, eyes that didn’t just look at you, they read you. He had a faint smirk, like the world amused him. His tie was loose, his sleeves rolled up, veins flexing across his forearms.

“Miss Collins, I assume?”

The way he said my name Miss Collins wasn’t polite. It was deliberate, slow, like he wanted to taste the syllables first.

“Yes,” I managed, setting down my file. “And you must be Mr. Ward.”

“Ethan’s fine,” he said, extending a hand. His palm was warm, firm. Too firm. I met his gaze without blinking.

“Welcome to the jungle,” I said.

He smiled barely. “So I’ve heard.”

We sat across from each other, the table between us feeling too small. I’d faced CEOs, clients, and critics without losing composure, but there was something about his calm confidence that tested my edges.

He clicked the remote, bringing up my campaign slides. “I’ve gone through your previous projects,” he said, eyes still on the screen. “Impressive numbers.”

“Thank you,” I replied, keeping my tone even.

“But I also noticed something.”

“Something good, I hope.”

His gaze finally met mine again. “Something bold. You take risks most people wouldn’t.”

“Calculated risks,” I corrected.

“Still risks,” he said. “You don’t like rules much, do you?”

“I like results,” I countered.

He smiled again slow, knowing. “We’re going to get along just fine.”

It wasn’t a compliment. It was a warning wrapped in a tease.

The meeting went on mostly professional, occasionally electric. Every time our eyes met, there was a flicker. A silent dare neither of us acknowledged out loud.

At one point, he leaned closer to point at the screen. His cologne subtle, woodsy brushed against my senses. My pulse stuttered, but my voice stayed steady.

“Your projections are aggressive,” he said quietly.

“I like a challenge.”

He looked at me, eyes dark with amusement. “So do I.”

The air thickened. For a second, I forgot we were in a glass-walled room surrounded by coworkers pretending not to stare.

Finally, he leaned back, breaking the spell. “Good work, Miss Collins. I’ll see you at the strategy briefing this afternoon.”

“Of course, Mr. Ward.”

I stood up, gathering my things slowly. My hand brushed his arm accidentally, maybe not. Electricity jolted between us, sharp enough to make my breath hitch.

When I looked up, he was already watching me. “Have a productive morning,” he said smoothly, but there was something in his tone something unspoken, teasing, deliberate.

“You too, boss,” I replied, meeting his gaze one last time before walking out.

Back at my desk, Clara pounced. “So?! What’s he like?”

I took a slow sip of coffee. “Dangerous.”

She blinked. “Dangerous how?”

I smiled. “The kind that doesn’t raise his voice. The kind that makes you want to listen.”

And as I typed up my notes, pretending to be unaffected, I could still feel the echo of his voice in my head.

That calm, controlled tone.

That look that said I see through you, Ava Collins.

And worse? I wasn’t sure I minded it.