Chapter five:Undercurrents
1218 Words
Zara clutched her staff ID like it was a golden ticket and not the fragile thread holding her life together. Day three at Cole International, and she still hadn’t figured out if this job was a blessing, a setup, or a weird social experiment run by billionaires with too much time.
The elevator dinged and opened on the top floor—the forbidden kingdom. Everyone in the lower departments spoke of it like a myth. Floor 50. Where Xavier Cole reigned with his icy gaze and a team of assistants who looked more like models than office workers.
She took a deep breath.
"Okay, Zara. No spilling drinks. No sass. No dying."
She stepped out.
The marble floors were so polished, she could see her reflection judging her in real-time. Each click of her heels echoed in the silence like a challenge. At the far end of the hall stood Xavier’s office—massive, glass-walled, intimidating.
Tasha’s voice chirped in her ear through the Bluetooth headset. “You’ve got five minutes to bring him the signed contracts from legal or he’ll probably fire you. Or throw you out a window. Hard to tell with him.”
Zara scowled but didn’t respond. She didn’t trust herself to speak while trying not to pass out.
She marched to his office and knocked.
No response.
She tried the door. It was unlocked.
She peeked inside.
He was standing by the window, back turned, talking on his phone in that deep, unbothered voice that could melt ice—or start a war.
“I don’t care what their numbers say,” he said. “If they’re late again, pull the deal. No exceptions.”
He turned as she stepped in, eyes locking with hers. Cold. Calculating. But that flicker again—the one that looked like curiosity dipped in danger.
“Contract,” she said, holding it out like a peace offering.
He took it without breaking eye contact. Then, quietly: “Why are you really here, Zara?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not just some random applicant. You crashed a gala, insulted me in front of fifty investors, and now you’re here... in my office, handing me contracts.”
“I got the job because I’m qualified,” she snapped.
He raised a brow. “You didn’t even apply.”
Her stomach twisted. Crap. He knew.
“I—” she started.
He walked closer, setting the contract aside, arms crossed. “You’re hiding something.”
“And you’re paranoid,” she shot back. “Not everything’s about you, Cole.”
He tilted his head. “It usually is.”
She hated that her pulse jumped when he stepped closer. “Is this where you fire me?”
“No,” he said, voice quiet. “This is where I figure out what game you’re playing.”
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then nodded toward the door.
“Get back to work.”
Dismissed. Just like that.
She walked out, heart racing, and nearly slammed into Tasha who had clearly been eavesdropping nearby with a guilty smile.
“You’re so screwed,” Tasha whispered.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Zara muttered.
---
Zara buried herself in paperwork that afternoon, trying to forget Xavier’s eyes—the way they seemed to see right through her. But her mind kept replaying that moment in his office.
What if he fired her?
Worse, what if he didn’t?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp voice from the hallway. Janice, one of Xavier’s senior assistants, strode in with stilettos that meant business.
“Zara?” she said, without looking up from her tablet. “Mr. Cole wants you in the conference room. Now.”
Great.
She followed Janice down the corridor and into a large glass conference room. Xavier stood at the head of the table with a group of executives.
“Everyone, this is Zara,” he said, his tone unreadable.
“She’s... the new assistant?” one of the executives asked, eyebrows lifted.
“She’s sharp,” Xavier said simply. “And she’ll be helping coordinate the KingTech pitch.”
Zara almost choked. The what now?
“Problem?” he asked, looking at her.
She straightened. “Not at all.”
---
After the meeting, Zara practically collapsed onto the couch in the employee lounge. Tasha dropped beside her.
“Girl. You looked like a deer in a boardroom full of headlights.”
“He put me on a pitch,” Zara said.
“Yeah, because you have guts. Also, because you insulted him and didn’t die.”
Zara laughed weakly. “Is that a qualification now?”
Tasha grinned. “At Cole International? It’s like... top of the list.”
---
Later that night, Zara sat on her tiny bed in her shared flat, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
She should be lying low, not throwing herself into the center of Cole International’s biggest deal. Not bantering with a man who could buy her entire neighborhood and forget he did it.
But she wasn’t backing down.
Not from Xavier Cole. Not from anyone.
---
The next morning, Zara arrived early, dressed in her best attempt at sleek business casual—a thrifted pencil skirt and the one blouse that didn’t scream "I’m new."
She was in the elevator when it stopped unexpectedly on floor 42. A woman stepped in—tall, sleek, dressed in head-to-toe black with sunglasses despite being indoors.
“Going up?” she asked.
Zara nodded.
The woman smirked. “To see Xavier?”
Zara blinked. “You know him?”
“Oh, honey,” the woman purred. “I own him.”
Zara’s jaw dropped. The woman stepped off on the top floor and disappeared into Xavier’s office like she belonged.
Who the hell was that?
---
Zara walked into the office to find Xavier at his desk, staring down at his laptop like it had insulted his family.
“Morning,” she said.
“Sit,” he ordered, not looking up.
She did.
“You met my ex,” he said after a beat.
Zara blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Gabriella. The woman in the elevator.”
Zara processed that. “She said she owns you.”
“She likes to be dramatic.”
“So do you.”
That earned her a look. “Careful, Zara.”
She smirked. “Just saying. Takes one to know one.”
---
By Friday, Zara was buried in documents, mock-up slides, and pitch drafts for the KingTech meeting. Xavier kept calling her in for feedback, questions, corrections.
At one point, she snapped. “You do realize I’m just an assistant, right?”
He leaned against his desk. “You’re more than that.”
Zara’s heart did a weird backflip.
He cleared his throat. “Professionally.”
She bit back a smile. “Of course. Professionally.”
---
As the week ended, something had changed. They weren’t just tolerating each other anymore. They were circling, testing. A cold war of banter and glances.
And Zara had the distinct feeling that she was either winning a very dangerous game...
Or walking straight into a trap.
- Writer
