First Day
1105 Words
Aria’s pov***
I checked the time for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes.
8:42 a.m.
Eighteen minutes early.
Perfect.
Or maybe a little obsessive.
I shifted in the plush leather chair of the executive reception area, smoothing an imaginary crease from my blazer before crossing one leg over the other. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, bathing the lobby in soft morning light that bounced off polished marble floors and brushed gold accents. Everything about Sinclair Hospitality Group whispered luxury without ever having to raise its voice.
It was one of the things I’d loved most during my internship over the summer.
Nothing here screamed for attention.
It didn’t have to.
My fingers drifted to the silver face watch wrapped around my wrist, tracing the worn leather strap with my thumb.
Dad’s graduation gift.
“Wear it on your first day,” he’d told me. “Every time you look at it, remember how hard you worked to get here.”
I smiled to myself.
Trust me, Dad.
I remembered.
“Nervous?”
The voice pulled me from my thoughts.
I looked up to find the receptionist smiling warmly from behind the sleek white desk.
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
“Is it that obvious?”
The receptionist chuckled.
“A little.”
Heat crept into my cheeks.
“I was hoping I was hiding it better.”
“You are,” she said with a reassuring smile. “But everyone is nervous on their first official day.”
Official.
The word settled in my chest, bringing with it a strange mix of pride and disbelief.
Just a few months ago, I had been one of dozens of summer interns wandering these halls with a visitor’s badge clipped to my blazer. Now I had an employee ID tucked neatly into my purse and a full-time position waiting for me.
I still couldn’t believe it.
After graduation, I’d applied to more companies than I cared to count. Sinclair Global had always been the long shot. The company everyone dreamed of working for but rarely got into.
Landing a summer internship had already felt like winning the lottery.
Being asked to come back?
That still felt unreal.
“You interned here over the summer, didn’t you?” the receptionist asked.
I nodded.
“I did.”
“I thought I recognized you. You were on the marketing floor.”
“That’s me.”
She smiled.
“I heard good things.”
My shoulders relaxed just enough to breathe.
“I’ll take that as a good sign.”
“Oh, it is.”
She glanced toward the private elevators before returning her attention to me.
“They don’t invite just anyone back.”
Before I could respond, another woman walked behind the reception desk carrying a stack of folders.
She paused when she saw me.
“This must be our new hire.”
The receptionist nodded.
“Aria Monroe.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” the woman said. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
She set the folders down and leaned against the counter.
“So…”
I watched the curious smile spread across her face.
“Have they told you who you’ll be working for?”
I frowned.
“I assumed I’d be going back to the marketing department.”
The two women exchanged a look.
A very brief one.
But I caught it.
“No,” she said carefully.
“You’ll be on the executive floor.”
My eyebrows lifted.
“The executive floor?”
She nodded.
“As Mr. Sinclair’s personal assistant.”
Silence.
The words hung in the air for a second before they fully registered.
“Mr. Sinclair?” I repeated.
“The Lucien Sinclair?”
I blinked.
During my entire internship, I’d never met the CEO.
I’d seen his name on company-wide emails.
Heard employees mention him in meetings.
Passed framed magazine covers featuring him in the lobby.
But the man himself?
Never.
A small knot of nerves tightened in my stomach.
“I didn’t even know he needed a new assistant.”
The woman gave me a sympathetic smile.
“He didn’t.”
I stared at her.
“His assistant is being promoted.”
That made me feel marginally better.
At least I wasn’t replacing someone who had quit.
Still…
I couldn’t ignore the sudden flutter in my stomach.
Working for the CEO of Sinclair Hospitality Group was nothing like answering emails for the marketing team.
This was different.
Life-changing different.
The woman behind the reception desk smiled knowingly.
“I’ll take you upstairs.”
I rose to my feet, smoothing my skirt one last time before slipping the strap of my leather portfolio over my shoulder.
“This way.”
She led me past the reception area toward a set of private elevators tucked behind a frosted glass partition. Unlike the elevators in the main lobby, these required a key card to access.
She swiped hers across the reader.
A soft chime sounded.
The doors slid open.
I stepped inside beside her, and she pressed the button for the executive floor.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The elevator climbed in near silence, interrupted only by the faint hum of the cables overhead.
I caught my reflection in the mirrored wall and resisted the urge to fix my hair for the hundredth time that morning.
The doors opened with another soft chime.
The executive floor was… quieter.
Just a calm efficiency that somehow felt even more intimidating.
“This way,” she said, leading me down a wide corridor lined with glass offices and modern artwork.
We stopped outside a pair of dark walnut doors.
A brushed silver nameplate read:
LUCIEN SINCLAIR
Chief Executive Officer
She turned to face me.
“Wait here one second.”
I nodded.
As she stepped away, her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen before answering.
“Yes, Mr. Sinclair.”
There was a brief pause.
“She’s here.”
Another pause.
“I’ll let her know.”
She lowered the phone and smiled.
“He’s ready for you.”
My stomach fluttered.
She gestured toward the door.
“Knock and go right in.”
Before I could respond, she turned and walked back down the corridor, leaving me standing alone outside the office.
I looked at the closed door.
This was it.
I took one slow breath, tightened my grip on my portfolio, and raised my hand to knock.
Three soft knocks echoed through the quiet hallway.
A deep voice answered from the other side.
“Come in.”
- Writer
