Episode 3: We shouldn't Cross
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Back at Zayden Corporation, Mira returned to her desk with a strange mix of pride and confusion.
He had praised her… in his own cryptic way.
And that spark?
It wasn’t her imagination.
She powered on her tablet and reviewed the next task. But before she could settle in, Leah appeared again, holding a paper bag.
“Lunch. He asked me to bring it for you.”
Mira blinked. “For me?”
Leah shrugged. “Don’t overthink it. He does weird things when he’s impressed. Just take the win.”
Inside the bag: a sandwich, a smoothie, and a sticky note.
You didn’t eat breakfast. Don’t make it a habit.
It wasn’t signed.
But she knew.
Zayden.
Who was this man? Sharp-edged one moment, silently considerate the next?
By 2 p.m., she found herself beside him again—this time in the sleek, glass-walled boardroom.
A team of executives pitched a new campaign. Mira stayed quiet.
Until Zayden turned to her unexpectedly.
“Mira. Thoughts?”
She startled, then cleared her throat.
“It’s… polished. But forgettable. It sounds like every other campaign out there. If we’re selling luxury, we shouldn’t sound desperate for attention.”
Silence.
Then, to her shock, Zayden nodded.
“Scrap it. Start again.”
The team shifted uncomfortably as they filed out.
Mira turned to him. “You didn’t have to embarrass them.”
“I didn’t hire you to flatter people. I hired you to tell the truth.”
“You didn’t hire me,” she pointed out.
He gave a half-smile.
“Technicality.”
That smile. It was fleeting—but real. And dangerous.
Later that evening, after the office emptied out, Mira stayed behind to finish her reports.
She didn’t hear Zayden approach until he leaned over her desk.
“Come with me,” he said.
She frowned. “Where?”
“No questions.” He was already turning away.
They ended up on the rooftop. City lights glowing around them. The wind was cool, the silence strangely comfortable.
“I come here when I need to breathe,” he said.
“You don’t seem like someone who struggles to breathe.”
“I don’t,” he replied. “But sometimes, I forget to.”
She watched him. This version of Zayden—calm, open—felt like another side of the same storm.
“You’re not what I expected,” she admitted.
“Neither are you.”
They stood there, just… existing.
And then, too quickly, he turned.
“Back to work tomorrow. Don’t be late.”
He disappeared into the stairwell, leaving Mira standing in the glow of something she couldn’t name.
Attraction?
Respect?
Or the beginning of a line they both shouldn’t cross.
She touched the note still folded in her pocket and whispered,
“What are you doing to me, Zayden Cole?”
The next morning, Mira had barely stepped into the office when a voice cut through the hallway like a knife.
“You’re late.”
Zayden.
She checked her watch. 8:59 a.m.
One minute early.
“I’m not,” she replied evenly.
He didn’t look up. “Coffee. Black. Now.”
Swallowing the sigh rising in her throat, Mira turned toward the break room.
Every interaction with Zayden felt like walking on a tightrope.
Tense. Silent. Exhausting.
As the machine brewed, her mind wandered.
It had only been a few days, but this job already felt like months.
The pressure. The pace. The unpredictability of Zayden’s mood swings.
It was… a lot.
She returned to his office and placed the coffee gently on the desk.
“You’re shaking,” he said suddenly.
Mira blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Your hand. It trembled.”
She clenched her fingers. “I’m fine.”
Zayden finally looked at her.
Really looked.
“You don’t have to pretend with me.”
A small laugh escaped her lips.
“Isn’t that the whole job? Pretending everything’s fine?”
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes, but he turned away.
“I have a meeting at ten. Prep the files. Make sure the conference room is set. No mistakes.”
Dismissed.
Mira bit the inside of her cheek.
She was trying. Really trying.
But working under Zayden Cole?
It was like walking barefoot through a snowstorm.
By noon, Mira was on her third trip across the building.
The meeting went smoothly.
No thanks.
No acknowledgment.
But at least she hadn’t messed up.
She had just returned to her desk when a tall blonde woman strutted into the office like she owned it.
“Is Zayden in?”
Mira stood. “Do you have an appointment?”
The woman smirked. “I don’t need one. Tell him Amara is here.”
Amara.
The name alone felt… intimate.
Before Mira could respond, Zayden’s door opened.
“Let her in.”
Amara brushed past Mira with a knowing look.
She sat down, trying not to care.
But she did.
Why?
Zayden wasn’t hers.
He wasn’t even nice to her.
Still, something twisted in her stomach at the sound of Amara’s laugh from behind the door.
Ten minutes later, the door opened again.
Amara walked out with perfect hair and a satisfied smile.
“Good luck, assistant,” she said sweetly before leaving.
Mira’s fists clenched beneath her desk.
---
Moments later, Zayden stepped out.
“Mira.”
She stood quickly. “Yes, sir?”
He studied her. “You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” she replied stiffly.
“Do you want to go home early?”
The question caught her off guard.
“No,” she said. “I’m here to work.”
He nodded. “Good.”
Then added—softer this time—
“Don’t let people like her get to you.”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t—”
“You did,” he said. “But I appreciate your silence.”
And
just like that, he walked away again.
Leaving Mira standing in the hallway…
Completely confused.
What just happened?
Was he… being kind?
Her heart thudded uncomfortably in her chest.
This job was going to ruin her sanity.
And maybe…
Her heart.
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