Only You

Chapter Two: First Impressions and Ice-Cold Stares

The morning sunlight danced across the towering glass windows of Johnson Corporation, casting elegant patterns on the marble floors. Olivia stepped into the grand lobby, nerves fluttering in her stomach but a hopeful smile on her face.

She wore a cream blouse tucked into a high-waisted pencil skirt, her brown curls brushed neatly over her shoulder. It wasn’t the fanciest outfit in the world, but it made her feel confident and today, she needed that.

The receptionist smiled as she approached.

“You must be Olivia. Mr. Johnson’s new assistant.”

“Yes, that’s me,” Olivia replied, returning the smile. “Where’s my desk?”

A few moments later, she was seated just outside the CEO’s grand corner office, her desk pristine, her notepad ready, her heart racing faster than she cared to admit.

This is it, Liv. Day one. New city. New life.

She took a deep breath.

Ten minutes passed.

Then...

Click… Click… Click…

The unmistakable sound of polished shoes echoed through the hallway. Olivia instinctively looked up.

Karl Johnson had arrived.

Dark tailored suit. Crisp white shirt. Sunglasses still on, even indoors. Arrogance practically oozed from every step as he walked in like he owned the building because, well, he did.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t say “Good morning.”

Didn’t even look at her.

He just passed her desk without a glance and pushed open the glass door to his office.

Slam.

Olivia blinked. “Well… okay then.”

Just as she returned her eyes to her screen, the glass door opened again. Karl leaned halfway out, his voice low and sharp.

“Miss Benson. Coffee. Black. No sugar. No delay.”

Then, just like that, he vanished back inside.

Olivia stared at the door for a beat before muttering, “Nice to meet you, too.”

Olivia took a deep breath as she carefully placed the steaming cup of black coffee on Karl’s massive mahogany desk.

"Your coffee, sir," she said, voice polite but firm.

She turned to leave, but his cold voice stopped her mid-step.

“It’s too bitter.”

She turned around, confused. “But… you said no sugar.”

Karl leaned back in his leather chair, eyes fixed on her with lazy arrogance. “Are you questioning your boss already, Miss Benson?”

“I’m just...” she started, but he cut her off with a raised brow and a sharper tone.

“Listen to the boss. Not your instincts.”

Olivia bit her inner cheek and gave him a stiff smile. “Yes, sir.”

She grabbed the untouched cup and walked to the office lounge, trying not to mutter a curse under her breath.

Second attempt.

She adjusted the temperature, added a dash of milk to soften the bitterness just slightly, and walked back in. “Here,” she said, setting it down.

Karl took one sip and wrinkled his nose. “Too hot. Again.”

She stared at him. “Are you serious?”

He didn’t even blink. “Deadly.”

Third attempt.

Olivia tried once more, adjusting everything to near perfection. She walked back in with a strained smile and placed it down carefully.

This time, before he even sipped, Karl said, “That looks cold.”

Her patience snapped.

“Mr. Johnson,” she said sharply, placing both hands on the desk, “I have paperwork piling on my desk, thirty unread emails, and an overflowing inbox. I can’t spend my whole morning perfecting your royal cup of coffee.”

He blinked once, clearly stunned by her sudden outburst. Then… he smirked.

“I pay your salary, Miss Benson. So, yes, you can. And you will. Unless you want to test how fast I can fire someone.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned on her heel, marched back to the lounge… and got creative.

If he wants something unforgettable… she thought with a wicked grin.

She added just a splash of soy sauce into the cup, stirred it carefully, and walked it back with an innocent smile.

He took one sip then instantly gagged.

“What the...what did you put in this?” he barked, coughing.

“Oh no,” Olivia said, playing dumb. “Didn’t you like it? I thought a man like you might enjoy something a little… bold.”

He slammed the cup on his desk, lips curling. “Are you trying to poison me?”

She rolled her eyes. “If I wanted to poison you, Mr. Johnson, you wouldn’t be breathing right now.”

And with that, she spun around and walked out of his office.

Karl stared at the door after it clicked shut. For a long moment, he sat in silence.

Then he let out a small chuckle and leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin forming on his lips.

“Well, well… interesting.”

Each day that followed, Olivia found herself in a loop that tested her patience and her ability to resist throwing Karl’s expensive pen at his ridiculously perfect face.

“Miss Benson,” he called out one morning without even looking up from his screen.

She paused at his office door, sighing softly. “Yes, Mr. Johnson?”

“You stapled these files incorrectly.”

She walked in, crossed her arms, and looked at the stack of papers. “They’re perfectly aligned.”

“I want the staple in the top right corner, not the left,” he said flatly.

Olivia blinked. “Seriously? That’s what this is about?”

Karl looked up finally, an infuriating smirk on his lips. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the file. “You look like someone who needs a hobby.”

“Are you suggesting you’re not enough to keep me entertained?”

Her eyes widened slightly. He didn’t just say that… did he?

“I’m not here to entertain you. I’m here to do my job,” she replied, cheeks faintly pink.

He chuckled softly. “Then do it correctly next time.”

She turned to walk out and mumbled, “Maybe if someone actually told me the rules instead of playing bossy king of the office—”

“I heard that,” he called after her.

“I know,” she called back.

Later that afternoon, Olivia passed his office while holding a tray of documents. Karl called out again, his voice lazy and amused.

“Miss Benson, come in here a moment.”

She stepped inside. “If this is about the stapler again, I might scream.”

Karl raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, eyeing her from behind steepled fingers. “No. I just wanted to know if you’re always this dramatic.”

She gave him a tight smile. “Only when I’m dealing with people who act like royalty in a skyscraper.”

He laughed genuinely, this time. It surprised them both.

“You're the most irritating assistant I’ve ever had,” he said.

“And you’re the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.”

There was a pause. His eyes locked onto hers. Something unspoken flickered between them. Heat. Challenge. A hint of interest.

He finally broke the silence. “You’ll last exactly one more week.”

She tilted her head, smirking. “Wanna bet, Mr. Johnson?”

Karl’s smirk returned, darker this time. “Careful, country girl. I always win my bets.”

Olivia turned and walked away, hips swaying in defiance.

Karl leaned back in his chair again, watching her go with narrowed eyes.

God, she was getting under his skin.

And for the first time in a very long time… he didn’t mind.

The clinking of cutlery and soft hum of conversation filled the cozy little restaurant where Olivia and Mia sat across from each other at a corner table. A basket of warm bread sat untouched between them, and Olivia stirred her lemonade without sipping it, her lips pressed in frustration.

“I swear,” Olivia huffed, brushing her hair behind her ear, “if Karl Johnson tells me one more time how to staple a damn paper, I’m going to lose it.”

Mia laughed softly, clearly entertained. “Told you he’s particular. You’re lucky he hasn’t yelled yet.”

“He doesn’t need to yell,” Olivia muttered. “His arrogant smirk says it all. Like, ‘Look at me, I’m rich, hot, and everyone listens to me because I have a jawline sharp enough to cut glass.’”

Mia burst into laughter. “You're definitely not the first to say that.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “He’s exhausting. One minute, he's acting like a bossy tyrant, the next he's teasing me like a middle schooler with a crush.”

Mia smirked knowingly. “Sounds like someone’s getting to him.”

“Oh, please,” Olivia waved her hand. “That man has the emotional capacity of a rock. Cold, smug, and full of himself. I saw how he looked at himself in the mirror this morning.”

“Maybe he looked at you too,” Mia said with a teasing grin.

Olivia blushed, but tried to brush it off. “It’s not like that. He’s impossible to read. And besides, I saw with my own eyes how one of his… ‘women’ walked into his office and sat on his lap right after my interview.”

Mia gave a long sigh, stirring her tea. “Yeah, that’s Karl. Playboy through and through. He’s had every type of woman chasing him. Models, socialites, even clients.”

Olivia frowned. “That’s disgusting.”

“I won’t argue,” Mia said. “But just hang in there, Liv. You're new in the city. This job pays well, and once you get some experience, you can move on.”

Olivia leaned back, crossing her arms. “I know. But if he calls me Miss Benson one more time in that infuriating tone, I might actually stab a report with my pen.”

Mia laughed again. “Just breathe. And try not to poison his coffee next time, okay?”

Olivia chuckled at that, finally picking up a piece of bread. “No promises.”

They both smiled, though Olivia’s gaze drifted to the restaurant window, mind unintentionally wandering back to a certain infuriating man with sharp suits and sharper eyes.

Even when she hated thinking about him… Karl Johnson somehow always found a way to occupy space in her head.

The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Johnson Enterprise, casting golden streaks across the polished floors. Olivia Benson arrived at her desk with a fake smile, clutching her planner like it was her only lifeline. Her heels clicked softly as she settled in, already bracing herself for the chaos she knew was coming.

Sure enough, the familiar deep voice called out from his office.

“Miss Benson.”

She closed her eyes briefly and muttered under her breath, “And so it begins.”

Standing up, she straightened her blouse and made her way into Karl’s office.

He didn’t even look up from his laptop when he spoke. “Coffee. You know how I like it.”

Olivia let out a dramatic sigh. “Bitter and bossy. Got it.”

Karl smirked at his screen, clearly hearing her sass, but said nothing.

She made her way to the office lounge, the scent of roasted beans filling the space. As she stirred the cup carefully, no soy sauce this time she muttered, “One day he’ll make his own damn coffee and the world will rejoice.”

With the perfect mix of bitterness and zero sarcasm (in the coffee, not her mood), Olivia walked back into his office and placed the cup on his desk.

“There. No poison this time. Enjoy.”

“Good,” Karl said smoothly, finally looking up at her with that unreadable smirk. “We have a client meeting this afternoon. I want you to come with me.”

Olivia blinked. “Me?”

“Unless you’ve already got plans to ruin someone else’s morning?”

She gave a stiff nod, ignoring the way her heart fluttered at the way he looked at her calm, confident, and smug.

“I’ll be ready,” she said curtly and turned to leave.

“Miss Benson,” he said again, stopping her at the door.

She paused, hand on the handle. “Yes?”

He leaned back in his leather chair, swirling the coffee in his cup before lifting his gaze lazily to meet hers.

“When we’re with the clients later… try not to look like you’re one sarcastic comment away from stabbing someone.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, and she narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a wicked grin. “That face you make when you’re annoyed—it’s adorable, but also terrifying.”

Olivia rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Then maybe don’t annoy me before meetings.”

He chuckled. “Noted.”

With a dramatic huff, she turned and walked out of the office, her cheeks burning not just from annoyance, but from something else. Something warmer. Something she didn’t want to name.

Karl watched the door close behind her, a small smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Definitely interesting,” he murmured to himself.

At exactly noon, Karl stepped out of his office, dressed in a crisp black suit that matched his slick, no-nonsense aura. Olivia stood up from her desk the moment he called her name.

“Let’s go.”

She followed him in silence, clutching her notepad and tablet. When they reached the underground parking lot, Karl clicked his key and the sleek black Mercedes lit up with a soft chirp.

He opened the passenger door and tilted his head. “Get in.”

Olivia blinked, then casually walked past the open door and slid into the backseat.

Karl’s brow twitched. He shut the passenger door and got behind the wheel, muttering under his breath, “Stubborn woman.”

From the backseat, she narrowed her eyes at him through the rearview mirror. “I heard that.”

“Good.” He glanced back at her with a small smirk. “You were meant to.”

“Professional distance,” she said dryly, crossing her legs. “I’m your assistant, not your date.”

“And here I thought you were avoiding temptation,” he teased, his voice rich with amusement.

Olivia rolled her eyes. “Trust me, Mr. Johnson, if I wanted to be tempted, you’d know.”

Karl chuckled, the sound low and amused as he pulled the car out of the parking garage. “I’m beginning to believe that working with you might actually cure my boredom.”

“Glad I could be your new form of entertainment,” she muttered, looking out the window.

The silence between them was thick with unspoken tension, until Karl spoke again.

“You do realize the front seat is more comfortable, right?”

“I’m comfortable back here, thanks.”

He smirked again but said nothing more, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove through the city.

They arrived at the upscale restaurant a few minutes early. Karl stepped out first, and Olivia followed. Despite the earlier bickering, he held the door open for her.

“Try to behave,” he said smoothly as they walked inside.

“I always behave,” she replied sweetly, “when people aren’t jerks.”

Karl laughed under his breath and guided her to a private dining room, where two middle-aged clients were already seated. The men stood and extended their hands.

“Mr. Johnson, good to see you again!”

“And this must be your… assistant?” one of them asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Olivia with a little too much interest.

Karl’s eyes darkened instantly.

“Yes. My assistant,” he said in a firm tone that made Olivia blink. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Olivia gave him a sideways glance but stayed professional, offering a polite smile to the clients and taking notes while Karl led the conversation effortlessly, charming yet commanding.

But once or twice, her eyes flicked to him, his jawline, the way he spoke, the confidence in every movement.

Maybe… just maybe, he wasn’t only a spoiled, arrogant jerk.

Maybe.

After an hour of formal discussion, laughter, handshakes, and wine that Olivia barely sipped, the deal was sealed. Karl had impressed the clients with his charm and business vision. Olivia, meanwhile, had juggled note-taking, answering a couple of their questions, and keeping herself from glaring at Karl every time he subtly brushed his leg against hers under the table.

By the time they left the restaurant, the city lights had come alive. The soft orange hue of the evening gave way to deeper shades of night. Karl glanced at his watch.

“Seven already,” he muttered, walking with Olivia toward the parking lot.

She walked beside him in silence, her heels clicking softly against the pavement.

When they reached his car, he paused and turned to her. “I’ll take you home.”

Olivia blinked at him, surprised. His tone wasn’t demanding. It wasn’t arrogant. It was… almost casual.

She raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, but I don’t need your help. I’ll take the bus.”

Karl stared at her for a beat. “The bus?” His lips twitched into something between disbelief and mockery.

She crossed her arms. “Yes, the bus. Like a normal human being.”

He scoffed, his jaw tightening as he opened the car door. “Suit yourself, country girl.”

Then, with that infuriating smirk, he slid into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and revved the engine. A moment later, the black car sped off, leaving behind a soft trail of exhaust and Olivia, standing alone under the dull flickering light of the bus stop.

She sighed.

“Ugh. Arrogant jerk,” she muttered, hugging her bag to her chest.

The wind blew a strand of her hair into her face, and she brushed it away, staring down the road for the bus. Part of her felt proud for refusing his offer. She didn’t want him to think she needed him. But another part of her—one she didn’t want to admit existed—felt oddly disappointed that he didn’t insist.

Meanwhile, in his car, Karl drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

“She’d rather take the damn bus,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head with a bitter laugh. “She’s really something.”

But as the city lights flashed past his window, he couldn’t stop thinking about her expression, defiant, stubborn, but not rude. Just… strong.

Not like the women he was used to.

Not like the ones who begged to ride in his car or his bed.

He grinned to himself and muttered, “Interesting.”

That night, the bass from the club speakers shook the ground. Neon lights flickered against the dark windows, bodies danced under the strobes, and laughter mingled with the clinking of glasses and low moans from the VIP lounge.

Karl leaned back on the leather sofa, his arm draped over a stunning brunette in a tight red dress. Her fingers traced slow circles over his chest as she whispered into his ear, her voice honeyed with seduction.

He didn’t respond.

His eyes were half-lidded, gaze distant despite the chaos and sensuality surrounding him. A glass of whiskey rested in his hand, barely touched.

The woman noticed his silence and pouted. “Karl… you’re quiet tonight.”

He smirked lazily, trying to shrug it off. “Just tired. Business meeting ran long.”

She slid onto his lap, pressing her body against him, her perfume thick in the air. “Maybe I can help you relax,” she whispered, lips brushing his jaw.

Normally, he’d already be halfway out the door to a suite upstairs.

But tonight… his mind wasn’t on her.

It was on someone else.

Olivia.

The fire in her eyes when she glared at him. The sharpness of her tongue when she talked back. The way she refused to sit in his passenger seat. And how she stood under that old bus stop light like she belonged in a different world.

“What is wrong with me?” he muttered to himself.

“Hm?” the woman asked.

Karl gave her a vague smile and set down his drink. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

He pulled her closer and kissed her quick, detached, almost mechanical. She didn’t notice. But he did.

There was no thrill.

No satisfaction.

No hunger.

Minutes later, he stood up abruptly and adjusted his blazer.

“I’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” he said coolly.

The woman blinked in surprise. “You’re leaving? Already?”

He tossed a few bills onto the table, not bothering to reply. The music pulsed louder as he made his way out of the club, ignoring the stares that followed him.

Outside, the night air was sharp. He lit a cigarette, leaning against his car.

But the taste was bitter.

And no matter how much smoke he exhaled, he couldn’t get her out of his head.

“Country girl,” he muttered, shaking his head. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

Karl stepped out of the elevator and walked down the private hallway to his penthouse. His tie hung loose around his neck, jacket slung over one shoulder, a tired sigh slipping past his lips.

But he paused.

A woman stood at his door—tall, elegant, familiar.

A tight black dress hugged her curves, and her red lips curled into a seductive smile.

“Sabrina?” he muttered, arching a brow.

“I missed you,” she said smoothly, running a manicured finger along the neckline of her dress. “Figured I’d surprise you.”

He unlocked the door with a blank look. “You waited here?”

“For you,” she said, stepping closer, her perfume already filling the space between them. “It’s been a while.”

Karl’s jaw tightened. “Not tonight.”

But when she leaned up to whisper in his ear, her breath hot, her hand sliding down his chest, something inside him cracked.

No… not something. Someone.

Olivia.

The memory of her annoyed face this morning. Her bold glare. The way she refused his offer like he wasn’t worth her time.

He growled under his breath.

He needed to get her out of his head.

He turned back to Sabrina, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly. “Come inside.”

As soon as the door closed, their lips met, hard, hungry, familiar. Sabrina moaned into the kiss, pulling his shirt loose while he pressed her back against the wall.

The apartment dimmed behind them, city lights glowing faintly through the glass windows. Their bodies moved together, shedding layers of clothing as they stumbled toward the bedroom.

She was beautiful, willing, everything he used to crave.

But as her lips moved along his neck, Karl’s mind betrayed him. He kept seeing her.

That annoying girl with the southern accent.

That maddening smirk when she rolled her eyes.

That soft sigh when she thought no one was watching.

He cursed under his breath and gripped the back of Sabrina’s neck, trying to pull himself into the moment. Trying to feel anything.

But even as their bodies tangled on the sheets, the name echoing in the back of his mind wasn’t the woman in his bed.

It was Olivia.

Karl stepped into the building looking as sharp and untouchable as ever in a tailored navy suit, sunglasses still hiding the faint shadows under his eyes. The night had done nothing to clear his head not even Sabrina.

And now, as he entered the floor, there she was.

Olivia.

Wearing that modest blouse tucked into a simple skirt. Hair tied in a lazy ponytail. Smiling at the receptionist like she didn’t just take over his thoughts the entire night.

He took off his sunglasses and called out, “Olivia. My office. Now.”

She blinked in surprise, then got up from her desk. “Yes, Mr. Johnson,” she said flatly, following him inside and closing the door.

He turned to face her, resting one hand in his pocket. “I need you to do a few things today.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

“First,” he began, walking around his desk and tossing a thick folder onto it, “alphabetize all the contracts in this file—by first name.”

She stared at him. “By first name?”

He smirked. “Yes. And then scan them one by one, email them to me, and—oh—print hard copies too. Triple copies.”

She folded her arms. “Seriously?”

He leaned back in his chair, watching her. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“I have actual work to do,” she said through clenched teeth. “You know, emails? Schedules? Things that matter?”

Karl shrugged. “This matters. I’m the boss, remember?”

She gave him a sarcastic smile. “Should I iron your socks next?”

He chuckled. “Now there’s an idea.”

Olivia stepped forward, pointing at him. “You know what? Just because you sign my paycheck doesn’t mean I’m your personal slave.”

He stood, towering slightly over her. “But I do sign it. So maybe try acting like you work here.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You act like you own me.”

“I own this company,” he said with a smirk. “So… close enough.”

Olivia scoffed and turned to walk out. “I’m not afraid of you, Karl.”

“Oh, I know,” he called after her. “That’s what makes this fun.”

As the door shut behind her, Karl leaned back again, lips curling into a smirk.

She was fire.

And he was getting addicted.

Olivia sat at her desk, headphones in, eyes focused on her laptop as she reviewed the new supplier documents. For once, she thought she might actually get something done until…

“Olivia!”

She winced. Took a deep breath. Counted to three.

Pulling out one earbud, she stood and walked toward Karl’s office. “Yes, Mr. Johnson?”

He didn’t even look up from his phone. “Can you get me the monthly sales report from March?”

She frowned. “That’s not in my department.”

He looked up then, smug grin spreading across his face. “You’re my assistant. That means everything is your department.”

She blinked slowly. “Fine.”

Just as she turned—

“Wait.”

She froze and turned around again. “What now?”

He leaned back in his leather chair. “You sigh too much. It’s unprofessional.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “Maybe because someone keeps calling me every five minutes just to play games.”

Karl tilted his head. “Do you consider helping your boss a game?”

“No. I consider asking me to refill your water every time you take two sips a game.”

He smiled wider. “You noticed how much I drink? That’s cute.”

She rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told.” He crossed his arms. “You know, Olivia, you look... ten percent more adorable when you're mad.”

“And you look like you own a mirror that lies to you every morning,” she snapped.

He laughed, actually laughed, and Olivia hated how annoyingly charming it sounded.

As she stormed back to her desk, she muttered, “I swear, one of these days I’m gonna spike your water with chili sauce.”

From inside the office, Karl’s voice called again.

“Olivia!”

She slammed her hands on her desk and stood. “What now?”

There was a pause.

Then, calm and arrogant: “I just like saying your name.”

Her mouth fell open. She stared at his door, half ready to kick it open and toss a stapler at his head.

He was driving her insane and he knew it.

But somewhere deep in that chaos…

He was starting to feel addicted to her fire.