In love with my secretary

--- Episode 1: The Interview The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of a tiny apartment in the heart of New York City. It was supposed to be the most important day of Summer Brenda’s life. Her alarm clock blinked 8:07 AM in bold red numbers—two hours later than she’d set it. “OH MY GOD!” Summer shrieked, bolting upright. Panic surged through her chest. Her interview at Morreti Empire, the largest conglomerate on the East Coast, was scheduled for 9:00 AM. With traffic and the subway, she’d be lucky to make it by ten. She scrambled out of bed, tripping over a stack of books and landing face-first on the floor. Her tabby cat, Mochi, yawned from the windowsill, unimpressed. “Not now, Mochi. Mama’s got a CEO to impress.” In a flurry of movement, Summer brushed her teeth, attempted to tame her curly hair into a bun, and pulled on a white blouse and beige skirt. She looked like a business casual disaster, but there was no time to redo it. Grabbing her tote bag and heels, she dashed out barefoot, heels in hand. --- Meanwhile, at the top of the Morreti Empire skyscraper, Anthony Morreti sipped his espresso and scrolled through his morning briefings. He was a man of order—strict schedules, polished manners, and an impenetrable poker face. At thirty-three, he was the youngest CEO in the company's history and had the emotional availability of a brick wall. “Your 9 AM secretary interviews start in an hour,” his assistant, Elena, said as she entered his office. “I’m aware,” Anthony replied without looking up. “They’ve already started arriving downstairs.” He gave a curt nod. “Make sure whoever I hire knows the meaning of silence. I don’t want chatter. I want efficiency.” “Of course.” Elena hesitated. “And maybe someone who doesn’t quit in the first week?” Anthony raised an eyebrow. “If they can’t handle the pressure, they don’t belong here.” --- Back on the street, Summer was running like her life depended on it. And in some ways, it did. She’d been unemployed for three months since her last job imploded—courtesy of a sleazy boss and a “downsizing” excuse. She darted across Fifth Avenue, nearly colliding with a taxi. “Sorry!” she yelled, hopping onto the sidewalk. As she rounded the corner to the towering glass building that was Morreti Empire, she spotted a sleek black Maserati rolling toward the crosswalk. She stepped into the street. The car screeched to a halt. Summer froze, her eyes widening as she found herself inches from the gleaming hood. The window lowered. “You trying to get yourself killed?” a deep voice asked, laced with irritation. She turned to meet his gaze. Him. The man behind the wheel was devastatingly handsome, with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and piercing grey eyes. He looked like he’d stepped out of a GQ magazine and directly into her worst nightmare. “I—I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry!” “You should pay more attention,” he muttered and hit the gas, rolling away. Summer’s heart was still hammering as she stumbled into the lobby of Morreti Empire. Of all the ways to make an impression, almost getting run over was not on her checklist. She slipped into the elevator, trying to smooth her blouse and catch her breath. When the doors opened on the 27th floor, she walked into a waiting room full of poised, high-heeled, and overly perfect women. They were all here for the same job. She gulped. A receptionist gave her a polite smile. “Miss Brenda?” Summer blinked. “Yes?” “You’re the last candidate. They’re ready for you.” Great. No pressure. --- Anthony sat behind a massive mahogany desk, fingers steepled as he watched Summer walk in. His expression betrayed nothing, but internally, something flickered. It was her—the woman from the street. Hair frizzed from the wind, cheeks flushed, and panting slightly. She looked utterly unqualified. And yet, he couldn’t look away. “Miss Brenda,” he said coolly. “You’re late.” Summer winced. “I—I know. There was… traffic. A lot of it.” “I nearly ran you over.” She blinked. “Wait. That was you?” He arched an eyebrow. “Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?” Summer didn’t answer. Her mouth was suddenly too dry. Anthony leaned back in his chair. “Why do you want to work here?” Summer inhaled. She couldn’t blow this. “Because I’m ready to work hard. I have administrative experience, I’m quick to learn, and I don’t back down from a challenge.” “You think this is a challenge?” She met his gaze. “Isn’t every job that’s worth it?” His jaw tightened. He glanced at Elena, who was watching with thinly veiled surprise. “You realize,” Anthony said, “this job comes with long hours, demanding schedules, and very little patience for error.” Summer nodded. “I understand.” “No personal calls. No excuses. No crying in the bathroom.” “Noted.” There was a long silence. Anthony studied her, searching for weakness. Instead, he saw fire. Tired and flustered as she was, she held herself with a kind of stubborn dignity that intrigued him. “You’re hired.” Summer blinked. “I—what?” “You start tomorrow.” Elena looked like she might choke on air. “Thank you, Mr. Morreti,” Summer said, trying to keep her voice steady. As she turned to leave, Anthony added, “One more thing.” She stopped, glancing back. “Try not to die on your way to work.” Her lips twitched. “I’ll do my best.” --- Summer didn’t remember how she made it to the sidewalk. She was hired. Hired by Anthony Morreti—CEO, grump extraordinaire, and man who nearly flattened her with his Maserati. It felt like a fever dream. She let out a shaky laugh. “I got the job, Mochi!” she whispered to no one. A passing stranger gave her a strange look, but she didn’t care. She was employed again. Inside the building, Anthony stared out his office window. “She’s not qualified,” Elena said quietly behind him. “I know.” “Then why—?” “She’s different.” Elena folded her arms. “Different can be dangerous.” Anthony turned back, expression unreadable. “Let’s see if she can survive me.” --- Later that evening, Summer sat cross-legged on her couch, a cup of tea in one hand, resume in the other. She stared at the name “Morreti Empire” printed on the top line of her offer. “What have I gotten myself into?” she murmured. Mochi meowed in response. She glanced at her reflection in the window—hair wild, shirt wrinkled, eyes still wide from the day’s events. “I can do this,” she said aloud. “I have to.” What she didn’t know was that the man she now worked for had never kept a secretary longer than three months. That he had a reputation for being impossible, cold, and cruel. That rumors whispered about his temper, his silence, and how no woman ever lasted long in that position. What she also didn’t know—couldn’t possibly know—was that for the first time in a very long time, Anthony Morreti was curious. And that curiosity was dangerous. --- To be continued… ---