More Than His Assistant

Chapter Five

Gina's POV

The single-word email stared back at me from the screen.

Explain.

A cold fear settled in my stomach. He had seen me with Noah. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but the icy look he’d given me from the meeting room had felt like a verdict.

I walked slowly to his office and knocked on the heavy door.

“Enter.”

Alexander was not at his desk. He stood by the large window, his silhouette dark against the city’s gray afternoon sky.

“Close the door.”

I did as instructed.

“Who was that man?” He asked.His voice was calm, which made it worse.

He finally turned to face me. His expression was blank, but his eyes were sharp, searching my face for a lie.

“Noah Fontaine, he works in the graphic design department.” I said, keeping my voice low.

“I am aware of where he works,” Alexander replied, taking a slow step toward his desk. “I asked who he was to you.”

“We knew each other a long time ago, from a few classes we took together, we ran into each other by chance today. He was just being kind.”

“Kind.” Alexander repeated the word as if it were foreign. He leaned against the front of his desk, crossing his arms.

The movement was casual, but his posture was tense. “You need to understand something, Gina. You are under a microscope.”

“Every move you make, every person you speak to, is being watched. Not just by the vultures with cameras outside, but by people in this building.

“Board members. Rivals. People who would use any piece of information, any perceived weakness, against this company.”

“It was a two-minute conversation about where to find supplies.” I said, frustration making my words louder than I intended.

“To you, it was a conversation. To others, it is a data point. A connection, it is a thread they can pull.” He stood up straight, his gaze hardening.

“You represent Harrington & Cross, there is no separation between your personal interactions and your professional role. Not anymore.”

“That man is now a part of my company’s narrative because you chose to speak to him, do you understand the responsibility you now carry?”

It felt unfair. Noah’s friendly smile had been the only bright spot in a terrible day, and now it was being treated like a crime.

“I understand.” I said quietly, because arguing was pointless.

“Good. You may go.”

The hours dragged on, I watched the clock steadfastly, eagerly wanting to go home. I had promised Gia I would be there to have dinner with her and watch a movie.

At five o’clock, I gathered my things. I was just slipping my arms into my coat when his voice came from behind me.

“Moretti.”

I turned. Alexander was walking toward me, buttoning his own finely tailored overcoat.

“Sir?”

“You’re coming with me.”

The statement was absolute. I shook my head slightly. “I can’t, I have to get home to my sister. I made a promise.”

“Your plans,” he said, stopping in front of me, “are secondary to the requirements of your employment. This is not a social invitation. It is an obligation. Unless you would like to revisit the terms of your probation?”

The threat hung in the air between us. My job was a lifeline, and he held the other end.

I swallowed my protest. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

He led me down to the private garage, where a black sedan was parked. He opened the passenger door for me.

We drove away from the glass towers of midtown, into an older, tree-lined neighborhood of stately brownstones. He pulled up in front of one of the grandest homes, its windows glowing with soft, golden light.

“Is this…?”

“My grandmother’s home.” He exited the car without another word.

As soon as he rang the bell, the door was opened by an elegant woman with sharp blue eyes and silver hair swept into a perfect chignon.

She looked first at Alexander, a slight smile on her lips, then her gaze shifted to me, her eyes were curious and deeply intelligent.

“Alexander, you're late.” Her voice was cultured, but held a genuine warmth.

“My apologies, Grandmother.”

Her smile widened as she looked at me. “And you’ve brought a guest, how wonderful.” She stepped back, holding the door open.

“Come in, dear, before you catch a cold.”

We stepped into a foyer that was both magnificent and welcoming. It smelled of old books, lemon polish, and the faint scent of roses from a large bouquet.

“Grandmother, this is Gina Moretti, my new executive assistant. Gina, this is Eleanor Harrington.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Harrington.” I bowed, suddenly aware of my worn bag and off-the-rack clothes.

“Nonsense. Call me Eleanor, please.” She took my coat, her hands surprisingly gentle.

“Any colleague of Alexander’s is a friend of mine.”

She ushered us into a cozy library where a fire crackled warmly in a marble fireplace. A silver tea set waited on a low table between two large, comfortable sofas.

“Sit here, Gina.” Eleanor said, patting the seat beside her.

“You look as though you could use a proper cup of tea.” She laughed and poured me tea with a steady hand, adding a single sugar cube and a splash of milk without asking, as if she already knew how I took it.

For the next half hour, she asked me easy, thoughtful questions. Not about work or the scandal, but about where I was from, what I liked to read, if I enjoyed the city.

She listened with her full attention, her eyes never leaving mine, making me feel truly seen for the first time since I’d arrived in this new corporate world.

Alexander sat in a wingback chair opposite us, silently observing. He said little, but I could feel his watchful presence. He seemed unsettled, as if his grandmother’s easy acceptance of me was a situation he hadn’t planned for.

Eventually, Eleanor set her fine china cup down on its saucer with a soft clink. She looked from Alexander to me, a mischievous, knowing glint in her wise eyes.

“So,” she began, her tone light while her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Are you two dating?”