HIS ASSISTANT, HIS TERMS

TOO YOUNG

Clara’s POV

My desk was neat but busy. Files stacked with care, emails blinking impatiently at me, reminders and drafts piling up. Adrian’s schedule looped in my head like a film I couldn't pause: meetings shifted, calls confirmed, documents revised. Working for him means nothing ever truly finishes; it only moves.

I gathered the reports he asked for and stood. He wanted them before lunch, which in his mind meant they'd already been late. I smoothed my blazer and walked toward his office.

I convinced myself I was only taking the report to him because he asked for it and not because I wanted to know who that woman was.

The top floor was calm as always. Quiet. Controlled. It was always just him and me.

I didn't think they had noticed the door wasn't fully closed.

I slowed without meaning to.

Her voice reached me first. Warm. Familiar. Comfortable in a way no one ever was with him.

“Adrian, you can’t keep brushing this off,” she said gently. “Grandmother has been asking about you again.”

“I know,” he replied calmly. “She always does.”

“She's worried,” the woman continued. “About you. About how alone you keep yourself.”

“I’m not alone.”

“You always say that,” she answered softly. “When we were younger, grandmother assumed you’d settle down eventually. That this work thing was just a phase.”

“That phase built everything we own.”

“Yet it isolates you,” she said without judgment. “You’re over forty now and still unmarried. Still unreachable. That’s what she sees.”

Silence followed.

I should leave. I know that. But my feet stayed rooted.

“She wants to see you happy,” the woman added. “She loves you. She wants to see proof you’re not going to lock yourself in work forever.”

“I'm not going to pretend to grandmother,” he said.

She smiled. “You don't have to, growing up, you’ve always listened to grandmother, even when you pretended not to.”

Another pause.

“There are ways to calm her without forcing yourself into marriage,” she said thoughtfully. “Something simple, efficient and believable.”

Adrian exhaled slowly. “Go on.”

My fingers tighten around the folder.

“You have someone steady in your life,” she said. “Someone who knows your habits, your schedule, your expectations. Someone who would fit naturally into your life.”

Her voice shifted gently, almost conspiratorial. “Your assistant, the one sitting right outside your office.”

His reaction was instant. “She’s too young.”

The woman didn’t flinch. “She’s capable. She already understands you better than most people ever will. That counts for something.”

“That’s not the point.”

“You always say that,” she said fondly. “The point isn’t feelings. It’s believability. People already assume things when someone is always there.”

“I don’t care what people assume.”

“No,” she said softly. “But grandmother would.”

Silence hanged heavy.

I stepped back quietly before I’m noticed, clutching my folder like it could anchor me.

After a moment, I returned to my desk, trying to focus. But my thoughts kept drifting back to the words I shouldn’t have heard. Believable. Assistant. Too young.

I was still staring at my screen when the office door opened.

The woman stepped out, smiling directly at me.

“We should have coffee sometime,” she says casually. “Just us girls.”

I tilted my head, sarcastically. “I barely have time. That man would be the death of me.”

She laughed softly. “I suspected as much.”

Before I could say more, Adrian appeared behind her. Calm, controlled, as always.

“Clara,” he said immediately. We’re done for the day. I’m heading home. Make sure everything is locked up before you leave.”

I blinked, stunned, as he turned toward the woman.

Without another word, Adrian and her walked down the hallway together, leaving me frozen at my desk.

I gathered my folders slowly, my mind buzzing, heart still racing. My phone buzzed. Emails still await. Work hadn’t stopped for me, but the day had.

I glanced toward the top floor door as if the sound of it closing could tell me what had just happened. It didn’t.

I grabbed my bag and stood, walking toward the elevator, but I knew I wouldn’t stop thinking about it for a long time. About the conversation I overheard, about the coffee invite, about the possibility of something more, even if I knew Adrian would never entertain such.

The office felt smaller now. The air heavier. And for the first time all day, I wondered what I'd do if I was presented with that opportunity. Would I take it, or would I keep running?