Dazed
1102 Words
The elevator chimed softly as it came to a halt.
The doors slid open with a quiet whoosh, revealing the pristine, glass-walled corridor beyond.
Irene stood frozen, her heart still hammering from the tension that had filled the small space just moments ago.
The man in front of her—tall, powerful, and exuding an effortless authority—finally lifted his head from his phone.
His gaze flickered toward her, and for the briefest second, something unreadable passed over his face.
Then, his lips curved into the faintest ghost of a smile—so quick, so subtle, that Irene almost doubted she had seen it.
Before she could even process the expression, he looked away, his sharp, calculating eyes masking whatever emotion had briefly surfaced.
He took a single step forward, closing the small gap between them, and then, with an ease that made her breath hitch, he reached out.
His fingers brushed against her arm—just a whisper of contact—as he helped her up to a fully standing position.
The touch was fleeting, but it sent a shiver down her spine.
And then, just as effortlessly, he turned away.
His polished shoes clicked against the marble floor as he stepped out of the elevator, his presence commanding without a single word.
Irene remained rooted to the spot, watching as the man strode ahead. He moved with an air of quiet confidence, the kind that turned heads without demanding attention.
He didn’t need to. The entire building seemed to shift in response to him.
Just as he neared a large, transparent door at the far end of the hall, another man appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
Dressed in a tailored pink suit that somehow looked both bold and elegant, he fell into step behind the first man without hesitation.
Irene barely had time to process the exchange before a new presence loomed in front of her.
A man with thin-rimmed glasses, neatly combed hair, and an air of impatience stood directly in her line of sight, his gaze scrutinizing.
She blinked, realizing too late that she was still standing inside the open elevator, staring.
The man sighed sharply, his fingers snapping in front of her face. “Who the hell are you?”
Irene jolted, snapping out of her daze. “Oh—oh! Good afternoon!” She stumbled over her words, clutching her bag tighter. “I—I’m the new personal assistant to the CEO.”
The man’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but his expression remained unimpressed. “Mr. Blackwood hired a new assistant?” He scoffed under his breath. “Well. That’s a surprise.”
Irene wasn’t sure if she should respond to that or just stay quiet.
“Well, whatever,” the man said before she could decide. He turned briskly on his heel. “Come with me.”
She hurried to follow, her heartbeat still unsettled as they walked deeper into the office space.
The sleek, modern interior was nothing like the places she had worked before.
Employees moved swiftly, their glances flickering toward her as she passed.
Who is she?
She could feel their silent curiosity pressing in from all directions.
And then, disaster struck.
As she stepped forward, her heel wobbled unexpectedly. A quiet snap reached her ears, and then—
Her shoe broke.
Irene could have died from embarrassment.
She barely managed to stay upright, her ankle twisting slightly before she caught herself.
But instead of stopping or drawing more attention to herself, she did the only thing she could think of.
She bent down, discreetly picked up the broken piece, and kept walking as if nothing had happened.
If I act normal, no one will notice.
The man in glasses glanced back at her, one brow raised. If he had seen what happened, he didn’t comment on it.
“Here’s your desk,” he said, gesturing toward a clean, minimalistic workspace near the large glass windows.
“You’ll handle scheduling, documentation, and anything else Mr. Blackwood requires. Got it?”
Irene nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”
The man hummed in vague approval, but then his expression turned slightly more serious.
“I should warn you about a few things,” he said, lowering his voice.
Irene swallowed. “Okay.”
“First,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “never—ever—look Mr. Blackwood directly in the eyes for too long. It makes him uncomfortable.”
She blinked. “Uncomfortable?”
“It’s hard to explain,” the man muttered, crossing his arms. “Just don’t do it unless you want to get fired.”
O-kay.
“Second,” he continued, “your most important duty as his assistant is making sure he gets his coffee.
First thing in the morning, again in the afternoon, and in the evening.”
“Three times a day,” she echoed, nodding.
“And last,” the man’s gaze swept down to her skirt, assessing its length. “Never wear anything too short. No exposed legs in his office. Got it?”
Irene shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. “I understand.”
“Good.” He straightened, then pressed a small button on the desk.
Somewhere in the distance, a soft chime rang.
“Now, let’s go,” he said, already moving toward the white transparent doors—the very same ones the man from the elevator had entered earlier.
Irene’s heart pounded again.
As they approached, another sensor beeped softly. The doors unlocked with a quiet hiss, and the man in glasses pushed them open, stepping inside first.
Irene followed, nerves buzzing under her skin.
And then—
She saw him again.
Seated behind an enormous, pristine desk, the man from the elevator who barely looked up as they entered.
A pair of thin-framed glasses rested on his nose, his attention fixed on a document in front of him. His entire presence was calculated, powerful—undeniably intimidating.
The man in the pink suit stood at the side, watching everything with an unreadable expression.
Irene tried to steady her breathing, but her pulse was erratic.
The man in glasses stopped a few feet away from the desk, giving a slight bow. “Mr. Blackwood. Your new assistant.”
Silence.
A long, dragging pause.
Irene couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.
Slowly, deliberately, the man behind the desk lifted his head.
And then—
Their eyes met.
It lasted only a second.
But in that second, Irene felt the air shift, the weight of his gaze pressing down on her like an invisible force.
Deep, dark eyes that seemed to see everything.
- Writer
