Seducing the Ice-Cold CEO

Chapter 13

Leah

I didn’t want to hover, but I also didn’t want to give Ivy the impression that she could coast her way through this internship like some pampered princess. If she thought she could match candy all day on her phone while collecting credit for working under me, she had another thing coming.

“Let’s start with something simple.” So I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small flash drive I had already prepared earlier. “This is your first official assignment,” I said flatly.

She blinked at me like I had just handed her a loaded weapon. Slowly, she reached out and took the flash drive from my fingers. “What’s it about?” she asked as she plugged it into her silver laptop.

“Transcription,” I replied, arms crossed loosely. “It’s an interview I conducted recently. All you have to do is transcribe it word for word and send me the document before the end of the day.”

Her fingers paused over the keyboard. “All of it?”

“Yes, Ivy. All of it.” I didn’t bother softening my tone. “It’s not complicated. Just play, pause, and type. If you’re not sure about a word, rewind and play again. That’s it.”

She nodded wordlessly, already starting to look like I’d asked her to climb Everest. Still, I stayed put, arms crossed, watching her until she double-clicked the audio file and the familiar opening seconds began to play.

It was the recording from that day I had convinced Dante to grant me a last minute interview after Esther had stolen my chance. His voice crackled through the laptop speakers, smooth and rich, and despite myself, I felt a tiny jolt in my chest at hearing it again.

But it wasn’t me who reacted most. I watched Ivy’s shoulders stiffen like a board, her fingers going still. She didn’t look at me but there was something in the rigid way she held herself that made me narrow my eyes slightly. She kept her gaze trained on the screen, as if daring herself not to look up.

I let the silence stretch a few more seconds before saying, “Alright then. I’ll leave you to it. I’m expecting a clean transcript by the end of the day.”

I’d barely turned when her voice piped up again, nervous and oddly strained. “Wait—um, I don’t understand.”

I paused, blinking at her. “What don’t you understand?”

“The task, I guess…”

I stared at her. “You… don’t understand how to transcribe an audio file?”

She shrank slightly under my gaze. “I mean, yeah, I guess not.”

A flicker of annoyance crawled up my spine. Was she for real? I must’ve looked too irritated, because she flinched again. I reined it in, smoothing my face before responding. “It’s not rocket science, Ivy. Just type what you hear. Every word. That’s it.”

To encourage her, God knows why I felt the need, I added, “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

I turned on my heel and walked away before she could protest again, because if I stood there a second longer, I’d say something I’d regret. What kind of adult didn’t know how to transcribe a basic interview? Was I being punked?

By the time I reached my desk again, my jaw was clenched. I sat down heavily, trying to shake the frustration off. May caught my eye from across her desk, and I gave her a look that said don’t even ask. She just raised an eyebrow in sympathy and returned to her screen.

Mr. Burke really saddled me with a gem this time. I shook my head and forced my focus back on the task I actually cared about; editing the second print edition of my interview with Dante.

That first article had done more than just go viral, it had flown off shelves like wildfire. Readers had eaten it up, and my inbox had been flooded for days. There was something about Dante, and that mix of brilliance and coldness that made him a mystery people couldn’t get enough of. I didn't blame them.

I pulled up the draft I had started and skimmed the first few paragraphs, my fingers twitching with the need to rewrite. There were many things I hadn’t included the first time, small details such as the subtle shift in Dante’s posture when I’d asked a question that caught him off guard, and the fondness in his voice when he’d praised a late friend.

I hadn’t wanted to go too soft in the first version so I’d played it cool and kept my tone polished. But this time, I wanted to go deeper. I wanted readers to feel that strange electricity I had felt sitting across from him. My fingers flew across the keyboard as I started revising. I painted in the finer strokes now, layering in the tension, and sharpening the quotes I’d glossed over the first time.

By the time I really got into the groove of editing the piece, the rest of the world had melted away. I didn’t want distractions from anyone in the office so I slipped on my noise cancelling headphones, cranked the volume up until the music dulled my thoughts and buried myself in the article.

The pressure on this version was twice as brutal as the first one; Dante had to approve it and Mr. Burke had to be satisfied with it. It was a balancing act that required precision. Every word I chose had to pass two filters; Dante’s subtle distaste for sensationalism and Burke’s unrelenting hunger for bold, gripping narrative. And I had to deliver both.

So I lost myself in it. I tweaked sentence after sentence, moved entire paragraphs, rearranged the sequence of moments to build a more natural emotional arc. Hours passed like minutes. Somewhere in the middle of that headspace, I caught Ivy in my peripheral vision. She was standing by her desk, lips moving, trying to get my attention. Then she gave me a small wave. I didn’t take my headphones off. My train of thought was at full speed, and if I let it derail for even a moment, I’d lose my momentum. So I gave her a short wave in return, more out of reflex than politeness, and dropped my gaze back to the screen.

When I finally looked up again, it was 6:15 p.m. I sat back, stretching slightly in my seat, then let out a long breath. The article was done. It had taken me the whole day, but I’d finally wrestled the piece into something I was proud of.

I glanced across the office as I shook out my arm, and noticed Ivy’s desk was empty. I frowned. Her bag was gone as well as her laptop. I couldn’t stop the small, disbelieving laugh that escaped me. She was gone already? Our company’s work day officially came to an end at 6:00 p.m., but many often stayed behind to work overtime. I could see her fellow interns only just beginning to turn off their computers, but mine was already gone. I felt robbed of words as I glanced at her desk again. This didn’t speak well of her dedication to her work at all.

I’d last seen her waving like what, an hour ago? I had thought she was just stretching her legs. Had she even turned in the work I had assigned to her?

My jaw tightened. Unbelievable. I yanked my headphones off, still halfway reeling from the realization, when the last person I wanted to deal with right now strolled into my line of vision; Esther.

She had a new intern in tow, a petite girl with immaculate posture, a too-white smile, and a notepad tucked under her arm like a badge of honor. Esther, of course, was taking her sweet time introducing her to every soul in the room, her voice dripping with pride as she rattled off the girl’s credentials.

“And this is Ruth,” she said brightly. “She graduated top of her class and is already published in two student journals! Not to mention, her uncle’s on the board of a national business magazine.”

Ruth gave a graceful, confident smile to each person she met, nodding like she was used to being admired. I watched the whole performance with narrowed eyes, sipping slowly from my water bottle.

Esther’s eyes flicked over to me, and I sensed she had been waiting for this moment.

“And where’s your intern, Leah?” she asked, trying and failing to sound casual.

Before I could even open my mouth, Ruth piped up helpfully, “If it’s Ivy Fairchild, she already left a while ago.”

I ignored her, closing the cap of my bottle.

Esther raised her brows, but her voice stayed light. “Really? That early?”

A few nearby colleagues chuckled softly. One of them, Trish, grinned at Ruth and said, “Oh leave Leah alone, Esther. Not all of us got someone as impressive as Ruth. You’re lucky.”

“Oh, I know,” Esther said, the picture of graciousness. “It’s always a blessing to have someone who takes their responsibilities seriously. You can usually tell a lot about the mentor from their intern, don’t you think?”

As she said these words, her eyes were fixed on mine, gleaming with challenge. I gave her a thin smile and slipped my headphones back on without a word. I had better things to do, and Ivy would be hearing from me very soon.

I pulled up my email, attached the freshly edited article file, and began to draft the message to Dante.