Chapter 7
1036 Words
I stepped into Julian Grey's office and immediately understood why people found him intimidating.
The office itself was impressive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, sunlight reflecting off glass and steel in every direction. The space was large enough to make most apartments look small.
Everything about it felt expensive.
Deliberate.
The kind of place that reminded you exactly who occupied it.
But none of that was what caught my attention.
It was him.
Julian Grey stood near the windows, one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers.
I had seen him earlier in the boardroom.
Seeing him now was different.
Distance had hidden too much.
He was taller than I had realized, broad shoulders stretching beneath a perfectly tailored black suit. The afternoon light sharpened the angles of his face, emphasizing features that looked almost unfairly sculpted. His green eyes lifted to mine, framed by dark lashes that somehow made his gaze harder to ignore rather than softer.
Dark hair framed his face neatly, falling toward his temples.
The closer I looked, the more difficult it became to focus on anything else.
Which was unfortunate.
Because I was supposed to be having a professional meeting.
Not standing there wondering how one person managed to look like the result of several unrealistic expectations combined into a single human being.
For a second, my thoughts scattered.
Which was ridiculous.
He was my employer.
Not the answer to every questionable decision a woman could make.
"Adrian."
His voice broke through my thoughts.
"That will be all."
"Yes, sir."
The assistant inclined his head and left the office.
The door clicked shut behind him.
The sound seemed louder than it should have.
I suddenly became aware that I was standing alone with the owner of Aurelius Group.
Not a department head.
Not an executive.
The owner.
The man whose decisions affected thousands of employees.
The man whose signature could alter entire departments.
And for reasons I still didn't understand, that man wanted me in his office.
"Miss Elena Vale."
I straightened automatically.
"Yes, sir."
"Welcome to Headquarters."
"Thank you, sir."
His gaze remained on me.
Not intrusive.
Just attentive enough to make me aware of every movement I made.
Most people looked at you.
Julian Grey looked as though he was assessing something.
I wasn't entirely sure that was better.
"You work in administration."
"Yes."
"I've reviewed your file."
My stomach tightened slightly.
There were thousands of employees in Aurelius Group.
Thousands.
The owner of the company did not review administrative files.
At least, I had never imagined he did.
A small part of me wondered what exactly he had seen in mine.
"You'll be working as my secretary."
For a moment, I was certain I had misheard him.
"I'm sorry?"
"My secretary."
The words were delivered with the same calm certainty someone might use while discussing tomorrow's weather.
I stared.
"Sir, I don't have experience as an executive secretary."
"You'll learn."
I blinked.
That couldn't possibly be the entire explanation.
"With respect, there are people far more qualified than I am."
"I disagree."
The response came so quickly that I almost forgot my next argument.
Almost.
"I work in administration," I said carefully.
"I'm aware."
"I've never supported an executive."
His expression remained unchanged.
"You will support me."
The certainty in his voice made it sound less like a prediction and more like a fact.
Like the decision had already been made somewhere beyond my reach.
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Then tried again.
"Mr. Grey, I don't understand."
"Which part?"
All of it.
Every single part.
The transfer.
The apartment.
This office.
This conversation.
Him.
Instead, I said, "Why me?"
The question settled between us.
For the first time since entering the room, something shifted behind his eyes.
Not enough to identify.
Just enough to notice.
"If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Grey... why me?"
His gaze held mine.
Long enough that I began wondering if I had crossed a line.
Then he spoke.
"You ask that as though there were many options."
I stared.
That wasn't an answer.
If anything, it raised more questions.
Many options?
What exactly was that supposed to mean?
Before I could ask another one, he continued.
"Your salary will be adjusted."
I frowned.
"Adjusted?"
"Tripled."
My brain stopped working for a second.
"Tripled?"
"Yes."
I suddenly understood why people agreed to things they shouldn't.
Money was persuasive.
An alarming amount of money was even more persuasive.
"And transportation will be provided."
I narrowed my eyes.
"A company vehicle?"
"A chauffeur."
Of course.
Why stop at tripling my salary when you could continue destroying my ability to think rationally?
My mind immediately returned to the apartment I'd been shown.
The apartment that looked more like something from a luxury magazine than a place an ordinary employee would ever live.
Nothing about this felt normal.
I looked at him again.
Really looked at him.
The billionaire owner of one of the most powerful companies in the country.
A man who could hire anyone he wanted.
Yet somehow he had chosen me.
The thought refused to leave.
I should have been celebrating.
Instead, I felt unsettled.
Because none of this explained why.
"I'll need time to adjust," I said finally.
"You'll have it."
I nodded.
"Alright."
The word sounded smaller than the decision it carried.
Julian picked up a file from his desk.
The conversation was apparently over.
Just like that.
I stood there for another second, waiting for something else.
An explanation.
A clarification.
Anything.
None came.
I turned toward the door.
"Miss Vale."
I stopped and looked back.
His attention had returned to the file in front of him.
"Yes, sir?"
"Don't be late tomorrow."
A strange flutter ran through my stomach.
Not because of the words.
Because of the certainty behind them.
As though there had never been a possibility that I would refuse.
I left his office with a new position.
A salary I still couldn't process.
A chauffeur.
An apartment that didn't feel real.
And one question that refused to leave me alone.
Why had Julian Grey chosen me?
Because whatever the answer was...
I was beginning to suspect it had nothing to do with my résumé.
- Writer
