A Secretary For Mr CEO

Emma's POV: If nerves had a scent, mine would be drowning in expensive perfume and fear. I stood frozen in the middle of Steele Enterprises’ glass-and-marble lobby, trying not to fidget, trying not to look like I didn’t belong, even though every part of me screamed that I didn’t. I clutched my fake résumé like a lifeline, heels clicking against the floor as I moved toward the elevators. My heart pounded louder than my steps. This was it. The moment I’d been planning for over a year. I was about to come face-to-face with the man who tore my life apart. Dominic Steele. The name itself made my throat tighten. Cold-blooded, brilliant, untouchable. He’d walked out of a deal six years ago richer than a king, while my father, my honest, loving father, watched everything he’d built burn to ash. I was eighteen when it happened. I grew up overnight. Took care of my brother. Buried my father. Buried my dreams. And now? Now I was here to burn Dominic Steele back. The elevator doors slid open to the top floor, and I walked out like I belonged. Like I wasn’t a fraud with trembling fingers and a file of forged experience. The receptionist barely glanced at me. “Emma Grey?” “Yes,” I said, voice calm despite the chaos in my chest. “Mr. Steele will see you now. He doesn’t like interviews. You’ve got five minutes. If that.” I nodded once and pushed open the door. There he was. Standing by the window like a god, hands in his pockets, suit cut to perfection. He didn’t turn around, didn’t speak right away. Just stared out at the skyline like he ruled the city and maybe he did. "Good morning, sir," I said, cutting him from his thoughts. “Sit,” he said without looking. No greeting, no handshake. "Just like that?" I asked myself. Not like I wasn't bold enough to say it out but I couldn’t afford to lose this job. I would have applied for a higher position with my degree but revenge has me in this corner. Knowing how desperate I was, I quietly sat down on the chair right opposite Mr Steele's desk. When he finally turned, my breath caught. His stormy eyes met mine with unwavering focus. My pulse quickened, but I held steady. He didn’t smile. Didn’t even blink. He walked towards his desk, each step with so much aura and elegance. I could hear my heart thumping loudly in my chest. His tall, muscular build was well-framed in his tailored suit. “You’re overqualified,” he said flatly as he reviewed my résumé. “I don’t like liars.” I met his eyes. “And yet I’m here.” He studied me for a second, his stormy gaze piercing my soul. “Why?” “Because I can handle chaos and I love a job that proposes one,” I said, chin high. “And from what I hear, you’re fluent in it.” That made something flicker in his gaze. A half-second smirk. Gone before it landed. “Brave,” he said. “Or stupid.” I smiled, just barely. “I’m both on Mondays.” Silence stretched between us like a wire pulled tight. He didn’t break it. “You start tomorrow,” he said. I blinked. “That’s it?” “Don’t disappoint me, Miss Grey.” I stood slowly, forcing my legs not to wobble. “I won’t.” As I turned to leave, I felt it, his eyes on my back. Watching, calculating. The game had begun. Infiltrate, find proof, and take Dominic Steele down. Dominic's POV: She wasn’t what I expected. When I saw her résumé, I almost tossed it. It was too polished, too perfect, and overqualified for a secretary. No one as smart wants this job unless they’re running from something… or running toward something. And yet, I told Cynthia to send her up. It's either my personal instinct or boredom. There was something about this Emma Grey. She walked in like she belonged, but I saw the c***k behind her smile. The tension in her shoulders. The kind of woman who’s trying very, very hard not to fall apart. That kind of woman either makes a mess or becomes unforgettably useful. I watched her from the window before turning. People always reveal more when they think no one’s looking. She didn’t fidget. Didn’t sweat. She looked me in the eye. She spoke with control. But she was lying. Still, I hired her. Because something about Emma Grey doesn’t add up. Her credentials were just text. The kind of career history with no personal details, no real errors, just enough substance to look legitimate, but too smooth to trust. And the look in her eyes… That wasn’t desperation for a paycheck. That was personal. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that people with personal motives are the most dangerous. They get careless, emotional, and predictable. And I always win against the predictable. So I let her think she got lucky. Let her make my coffee. Let her into my office, my routine, my world. I want to know what she’s really after before she gets the chance to act on it. Because I’ve been hunted before. And if Emma Grey is here to dig, she better hope she doesn’t hit the wrong nerve. I buried the last person who tried.