ELENA'S POV
Two days.
It had been two days since my now infamous encounter with Nic. An encounter that had somehow spread like wildfire through the employee grapevine and for which I was now revered and hated in equal measure.
In that time, Nic still seemed to think I was incompetent. I'd gotten better at being his assistant. I stayed on top of his calls and meetings, anticipating his needs before he even voiced them. I'd been working like a dog, trying to make up for my initial slip-up. I'd started eating lunch at my desk, arriving earlier each day, and staying later. Yet, he still hated me. I knew he hated everyone, a fact I was well aware of, but with me, it felt multifold.
Today, I decided to go out for lunch with Maya instead of eating another sad sandwich at my desk. I figured my efforts to appease him had been in vain, so why not?
We met in the lobby, Maya clutching a large to-go cup of iced coffee.
"Don't even ask," she said, catching my raised brow. "I was up all night."
We headed to a new Italian place the entire office had been buzzing about. It was a ten-minute walk from the building, and we took our time, enjoying the last sunny days before winter hit.
The restaurant was packed, and we ended up sitting in the outdoor section—a happy accident, given the perfect weather. I ordered Spaghetti al Pomodoro, Maya got Penne Arrabbiata and we both ordered iced teas, which arrived while our meals were being prepared.
"Is he still being a dick?" Maya asked, taking a long sip of her drink.
"Yup," I said, tearing off a piece of the in-house garlic bread the server had placed on our table. I bit into it, and an involuntary moan escaped as the rich garlic butter hit my tongue. I froze when I realized the table next to us had heard and was now chuckling. My face heated, and I quickly set the bread back in the basket, taking a long sip of my martini to cover my embarrassment.
"A dick all right," I added, feeling my cheeks cool slightly.
Maya picked up a piece of bread, not meeting my eyes. "Someone I know from HR told me... I don't know how true it is, but apparently, they're interviewing new assistants."
"For who?" I asked, a cold feeling creeping up my spine.
"Nic."
"What?" I stuttered, the word catching in my throat.
"Yeah, apparently it started two days ago."
"Two days," I echoed, my mind racing. That meant he'd started looking for my replacement the same day I'd started working for him. He never even accepted my apology.
"I'm sorry, Elena," Maya said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand.
I felt a lump forming in my throat. Panic crept in, thick and choking. If I lost this job, what would I do? I had a daughter to care for. Ava relied on me. I had rent, bills, groceries... This job was my lifeline.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back. The last thing I needed was to break down in public.
"Did they say where I would be transferred?" I croaked out, trying to keep my voice steady.
Maya shook her head. "No."
Our pastas arrived, but the lightness of our earlier conversation was gone. We thanked the waiter quietly, and I mindlessly pushed my food around my plate, my appetite gone.
He was such an ass. A single mistake and he was ready to strip me of my livelihood, to shatter my world. I had worked at Nic Industries since graduating college four years ago. It was my first real job. Would I even get a reference?
No. I wasn't going down without a fight. Nic might be the big bad wolf, but I was no helpless lamb.
Back at the office, I sat at my desk, staring blankly at my computer screen as I tried to formulate a plan. Should I confront him? Beg him for a second chance? I bet he'd love that.
Or maybe I could sue. Could I sue? Did I have grounds to sue? I started typing into Google on my work computer, then thought better of it and pulled out my phone instead.
I was still scrolling through employment law forums when Nic's office door opened, and an unfamiliar man stepped out, laughing. He was tall, with long, wavy, bronde hair that brushed his forehead, nearly covering his eyes. He wore a gray button-down shirt tucked into black suit pants—every inch the picture of conventionally attractive. I felt my cheeks heat again as his laugh reached me, low and pleasant.
He walked further out, still looking into Nic's office.
"Bro, you suck," I heard him say.
"You have no idea," I muttered under my breath.
He finally turned and caught my gaze, a boyish grin lighting up his face. His eyes—blue or maybe gray, I couldn't quite tell—crinkled at the corners as he smiled at me. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back only for it to fall forward again.
"You're not Gretchen," he said, still smiling.
"No," I nearly stuttered. "I'm Elena Torres. Gretchen retired. I'm the new assistant."
"Oh. Nice to meet you, Elena," he said, extending a hand. I took it, his grip firm but gentle. "I'm Liam. I'm your boss's friend."
Did he just wink at me?
"Nic didn't tell me he has a very pretty assistant," he continued, and I felt my face heat for the third time that day.
"Stop flirting with my assistant," Nic's baritone voice cut in, making me jump.
He had stepped out of his office, coming to stand beside Liam, and my brain promptly short-circuited. Barely two feet away from me stood two of the most attractive men I had ever seen. They were opposites; Liam, light and boyish with his messy hair and sparkling eyes, and Nic, dark and brooding, his dark hair cropped close, his tan skin and sharp jawline all harsh lines and intensity.
"I'll take my leave, then," Liam said with a laugh, pulling my attention back to him. "Nice meeting you, Elena."
"Likewise," I managed to say, my voice a bit breathless.
Liam strode off, and I couldn't help but watch him go for a moment before Nic's voice snapped me back to reality.
"If you're done ogling, come into my office."
I gasped, a retort on my tongue, but he had already turned and disappeared back into his office.
This is good, I thought, steeling myself. Just go in there and say what you need to say. You have nothing to lose.
I followed him into his office, shutting the door behind me.
The first time I stepped into Nic's office, I was awed. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls stretched around the room, providing a breathtaking view of the entire city, giving the illusion of being suspended in the clouds. His massive desk sat a few feet from the glass, its surface immaculate, as if every paper, pen, and piece of technology had been meticulously placed. A sleek sitting area occupied the center of the office, leather sofas arranged around a low, polished table where he often held meetings. A mini bar, tucked discreetly into a corner, was stocked with expensive liquors, and a high-end coffee station sat beside it. He even had a private restroom. It was the office of a man in complete control of his surroundings, a fortress in the sky.
That was months ago.
Today, as I stepped inside, I noticed something I had missed during those early days of awe—the emptiness. His desk, though large and impressive, held no picture frames, no personal touches, nothing to hint at the man who spent countless hours behind it. Compared to my own cluttered workspace, filled with framed pictures of Ava and small mementos of my life, his felt barren, almost sterile. The dreamy cityscape and illusion of being in the clouds now felt more like the bars of a modern prison. I almost pitied him.
I stopped in front of his desk, watching as he settled into his chair, his face set in a scowl that I had come to recognize as his default expression.
"Reschedule my meetings between two and four tomorrow," he said without looking up, his tone as casual as if he were asking me to refill his coffee. "I'll be conducting interviews for a new assistant."
The words hit me like a slap. He said it so matter-of-factly, with no indication that he understood the gravity of what he had just announced. It was as if he were commenting on the weather, and I realized, with a sharp twist in my gut, that he didn't care. To him, I was nothing. Expendable.
It felt like a punch to the gut.
I swallowed, forcing the lump in my throat back down.
"Whose assistant?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.
His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. He hadn't expected me to question him.
"Mine," he ground out, his voice edged with irritation.
"Why would you need another assistant?" I fired back, anger flaring despite my best efforts to stay composed.
"They would be replacing you."
"And where would I be?" I asked, holding his gaze, refusing to back down.
"You will be transferred to a different office," he said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back in his chair, clearly daring me to disagree.
Relief, sharp and unexpected, flooded through me. At least I wouldn't be unemployed.
For a brief moment, I considered acquiescing. I imagined clearing my desk, packing up my pictures, and moving on quietly. But the sheer arrogance in his tone, the absolute disregard for my efforts, held me in place, and before I could think better of it, the word slipped out:
"No."
His eyes sharpened, a flicker of genuine surprise breaking through his stony exterior.
"Excuse me?"
"No," I repeated, my voice steady. "I refuse to be transferred."
He let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh, the sound harsh against the polished glass and steel around us.
"That's not your decision to make," he said, his arms still crossed, the line of his jaw tightening.
"It is," I shot back, feeling a fierce, desperate bravery I hadn't known I possessed. "I'm not stupid, no matter what you seem to think. As you said, Gretchen told you I was the best. She wasn't speaking out of pity, nor was she doing me a favor. I went through five rounds of interviews before she chose me as her replacement. I earned this job. I was late that day because of an unavoidable situation, which I would have explained if you had given me the chance."
"Miss Hans—" he began, his tone sharp with warning.
"Please, let me finish," I interrupted, lifting my chin. "I got this job fair and square, and I refuse to let you jeopardize everything I've worked for."
His eyes narrowed further, his jaw clenching. "You do realize this is my company and that you work for me, not the other way around?"
"Well aware."
"And you realize that with each word out of your mouth, the chances of you continuing to work here are rapidly diminishing?"
"I'll take those chances," I said with a small shrug, my heart pounding. "All I'm asking for is the opportunity to show you what I'm capable of."
I had no idea where this sudden boldness was coming from, and a part of my brain screamed at me to stop talking, to back down, but I silenced it.
Nic stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he unfolded his arms, placing his hands flat on the table before turning his attention back to his monitor.
"I'll let you reinterview along with the rest," he said after a few tense seconds, still not looking at me. "Whichever of you is the best gets the job."
I nodded, my fists clenching at my sides.
"Fine by me."