Chapter 2: The Devil's Assistant
1703 Words
Mahendra Group Tower has 80 floors. My new office is on the 79th. One floor below hell.
"He'll see you now, Ms. Anindita."
Kieran Drake's secretary, Mrs. Santoso, looks at me like I'm a stain on her expensive carpet. I smooth my pencil skirt for the tenth time and clutch my new tablet to my chest like a shield.
It's been five years. He won't recognize me. He was drunk. I was nobody. Just a barista in a room of a hundred people.
The doors to his office slide open silently. The office is huge, all glass and steel and intimidation. And there he is.
Kieran Drake.
He's standing by the window, phone to his ear, not even looking at me. He's taller than I remember. Broader. The gray suit fits him like it was painted on. His hair is black, slightly messy, like he's been running his hands through it.
He's more beautiful and more terrifying than I remembered.
"My office. 9 AM sharp. Don't be late." He hangs up and finally turns.
His eyes. God, his eyes. Gray like a storm about to break. Cold. Assessing. They sweep over me, head to toe, and I feel naked again.
Nothing. No flicker of recognition. No sign that he remembers waking up next to me. That he remembers his hands in my hair, his mouth on my neck, the way he groaned my name when...
Stop. Don't think about it.
"Ms. Anindita." His voice is exactly the same. Deep. Rough. Like gravel and expensive whiskey. "You're late."
My stomach drops. "I'm... I'm not. It's 8:59, Mr. Drake."
One black eyebrow rises. "My time is more valuable than yours. When I say 9 AM, I mean 8:50. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
He moves around his desk and sits. He doesn't tell me to sit. So I stand, clutching my tablet, feeling like I'm about to be executed.
"You were hired because your test scores were acceptable and you speak three languages. Don't make me regret this decision." He opens a file. My file. "Single mother. One child. Rio. Four years old. Heart condition."
My blood freezes. He knows about Rio.
"Medical bills must be... significant," he says, not looking up. "This job offers comprehensive family health insurance. Effective immediately."
It's not a kindness. It's a leash. He's telling me he knows exactly why I'm here. That I'm desperate. That he owns me.
"Thank you, sir," I choke out.
"Don't thank me. Earn it." He finally looks up, and those gray eyes pin me to the spot. "Your duties start now. My coffee. Black. No sugar. Hot enough to burn. On my desk in three minutes. Every morning."
He remembers. He has to. Why else would he mention the coffee?
"Yes, Mr. Drake."
I turn to leave on shaky legs.
"Ara."
I freeze at the door. He never called me Ara. It was always 'Ms. Anindita' or 'you, from the pantry'.
Slowly, I turn back. His face is blank. Unreadable.
"Don't fail me," he says quietly. "I don't like failure."
I nod and escape.
In the bathroom, I throw water on my face. He doesn't remember sleeping with me. He can't. If he did, he'd be furious that I disappeared. That I hid his son.
This is worse. He remembers the barista who got him coffee. He's just decided to make her life hell for his amusement.
I can do this. For Rio. I can survive Kieran Drake.
I just didn't know surviving him would mean being this close to him. Smelling him. Hearing that voice. Seeing those eyes every day.
And praying every single day that he never, ever looks at a picture of my son. Because Rio has his eyes. His jaw. His frown when he concentrates.
The elevator dings on the 79th floor. My new desk is right outside his office. A glass cage. He can see me all day. Watch me. Judge me.
Mrs. Santoso drops a stack of files on my desk. "Mr. Drake's schedule. His calls. His life. You manage it now. Don't mess up."
"Right. Got it."
"The coffee. Three minutes. He times you."
No pressure.
I make the coffee with shaking hands. Black. No sugar. Hot enough to burn. Just like five years ago. Just like every morning for two years before I quit.
I place it on his desk without looking at him. "Your coffee, sir."
"You're shaking, Ms. Anindita."
"I'm fine."
"Nervous on your first day? Or is it something else?"
His tone is casual. Too casual. Like he's testing me.
"Just want to do a good job, sir."
"See that you do." He picks up the coffee, takes a sip, and his eyes close for half a second. Like he recognizes the taste. "It's adequate."
Adequate. Not good. Not great. Adequate. From Kieran Drake, that's basically a standing ovation.
I go back to my desk and try to breathe. I can do this. I have to do this. Rio's new cardiologist appointment is next week. The insurance doesn't kick in for 30 days, but the salary alone means I can pay the deposit.
I'll just avoid him. Be invisible. Be the perfect, forgettable assistant.
"Ms. Anindita. My office."
So much for invisible.
I walk in. He doesn't look up from his laptop. "Cancel my 3 PM. Reschedule the board meeting to Thursday. And get me the Henderson file."
"Yes, sir."
"Ara."
I stop again. Why does he keep using my name? It feels intimate. Wrong.
"Yes, Mr. Drake?"
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
Asshole.
By 6 PM, I'm exhausted. My brain is fried from his barked orders and impossible demands. But I did it. I survived day one.
I pack up my bag. Rio's babysitter is texting me that he's asking for me.
"Leaving already, Ms. Anindita?"
I jump. He's standing in his doorway, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. I can see the muscle in his forearms. I can see a faint scar on his left wrist. Did I do that? Five years ago?
"It's 6 PM, sir."
"And?"
"My... my son. I have to pick him up."
Something flashes in his gray eyes. Too fast to read. "Right. The son."
He says it like 'the problem'. Like Rio is an inconvenience.
"Good night, Mr. Drake."
I don't wait for a response. I just leave.
In the taxi home, I finally let myself cry. Just for a minute. Then I wipe my eyes and paste a smile on for Rio.
I survived Kieran Drake for one day. I only have to do it for the rest of my life.
I nod and escape.
In the bathroom, I throw water on my face. He doesn't remember sleeping with me. He can't. If he did, he'd be furious that I disappeared. That I hid his son.
This is worse. He remembers the barista who got him coffee. He's just decided to make her life hell for his amusement.
I can do this. For Rio. I can survive Kieran Drake.
I just didn't know surviving him would mean being this close to him. Smelling him. Hearing that voice. Seeing those eyes every day.
And praying every single day that he never, ever looks at a picture of my son. Because Rio has his eyes. His jaw. His frown when he concentrates.
The elevator dings on the 79th floor. My new desk is right outside his office. A glass cage. He can see me all day. Watch me. Judge me.
Mrs. Santoso drops a stack of files on my desk. "Mr. Drake's schedule. His calls. His life. You manage it now. Don't mess up."
"Right. Got it."
"The coffee. Three minutes. He times you."
No pressure.
I make the coffee with shaking hands. Black. No sugar. Hot enough to burn. Just like five years ago. Just like every morning for two years before I quit.
I place it on his desk without looking at him. "Your coffee, sir."
"You're shaking, Ms. Anindita."
"I'm fine."
"Nervous on your first day? Or is it something else?"
His tone is casual. Too casual. Like he's testing me.
"Just want to do a good job, sir."
"See that you do." He picks up the coffee, takes a sip, and his eyes close for half a second. Like he recognizes the taste. "It's adequate."
Adequate. Not good. Not great. Adequate. From Kieran Drake, that's basically a standing ovation.
I go back to my desk and try to breathe. I can do this. I have to do this. Rio's new cardiologist appointment is next week. The insurance doesn't kick in for 30 days, but the salary alone means I can pay the deposit.
I'll just avoid him. Be invisible. Be the perfect, forgettable assistant.
"Ms. Anindita. My office."
So much for invisible.
I walk in. He doesn't look up from his laptop. "Cancel my 3 PM. Reschedule the board meeting to Thursday. And get me the Henderson file."
"Yes, sir."
"Ara."
I stop again. Why does he keep using my name? It feels intimate. Wrong.
"Yes, Mr. Drake?"
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
Asshole.
By 6 PM, I'm exhausted. My brain is fried from his barked orders and impossible demands. But I did it. I survived day one.
I pack up my bag. Rio's babysitter is texting me that he's asking for me.
"Leaving already, Ms. Anindita?"
I jump. He's standing in his doorway, jacket off, sleeves rolled up. I can see the muscle in his forearms. I can see a faint scar on his left wrist. Did I do that? Five years ago?
"It's 6 PM, sir."
"And?"
"My... my son. I have to pick him up."
Something flashes in his gray eyes. Too fast to read. "Right. The son."
He says it like 'the problem'. Like Rio is an inconvenience.
"Good night, Mr. Drake."
I don't wait for a response. I just leave.
In the taxi home, I finally let myself cry. Just for a minute. Then I wipe my eyes and paste a smile on for Rio.
I survived Kieran Drake for one day. I only have to do it for the rest of my life.
End of Chapter 2
- Writer
