First day in hell. I spotted Ethan Drake before he spotted me. He was standing near the corner of the main floor, surrounded by a semicircle of executives who looked as tense as I felt. His voice carried, low and sharp, cutting through their murmurs with ease. He wasn’t yelling—he didn’t have to. His sheer presence commanded attention. The way he gestured at a chart on the screen, his tailored suit perfectly accentuating his frame, made it clear he was completely in control.
I envied that confidence, even as it annoyed me. And, of course, as if sensing my arrival, he turned his head. His eyes landed on me, and the smirk that followed could have powered the entire building.
“Winters,” he called out, his voice effortlessly carrying across the room. “You’re late.”
I blinked, caught off guard. I glanced at the clock on the wall and then back at him, frowning. “I’m five minutes early,” I said, forcing my tone to stay steady even though I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.
“Five minutes early is ten minutes late,” he replied smoothly, his smirk deepening. “Don’t let it happen again.”
My jaw clenched as I swallowed the sharp retort bubbling at the back of my throat. I followed as he turned and strode toward a desk near the far end of the room. His long strides forced me to quicken my pace to keep up, and by the time we reached the desk, he was already holding a thick stack of files.
“Here,” he said, dropping the stack onto the desk with a satisfying thud. “These need to be sorted and summarized by noon. If you mess it up, don’t bother coming back.”
I stared at the mountain of papers, my heart sinking. “All of these?” I asked, unable to keep the disbelief from creeping into my voice.
Ethan raised an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. “Did I stutter?”
The question didn’t need an answer. My fingers curled around the edge of the desk, and I forced myself to nod. “No,” I said curtly. “I’ll get it done.”
“Good,” Ethan said, already turning to leave. But before he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice casual and maddening. “And, Winters, try not to disappoint me on your first day. It’d be embarrassing.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose as I muttered under my breath and sank into the chair. The files felt like a mountain I had to climb, but I wasn’t about to let Ethan win. Not today. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, pushing me forward as I dove into the work with a single-minded determination to prove him wrong.
***
Hours passed in a blur of highlighters, notes, and spreadsheets. My hand cramped from writing, and my head throbbed from trying to make sense of the mess Ethan had dropped on my desk. Every time I glanced up, I caught his shadow hovering nearby, his gaze flickering in my direction with that same insufferable look of amusement.
Finally, I’d had enough. Slapping a completed file onto his desk, I crossed my arms. “Do you always micromanage?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Only when I’m bored,” he said, his voice maddeningly casual. “Keep up, Winters.”
I grit my teeth as I turned back to my desk. “Unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath, though I had a sinking feeling he’d heard me.
Just when I thought the day couldn’t get worse, I heard it—the sharp, rhythmic click of heels echoing down the corridor. My stomach twisted, and before I even turned, her voice confirmed my worst fear.
“Well, well,” Clara Hastings said, her tone sugary sweet. “Look who we have here. I see Elite is hiring Ugly Ducklings now.”
I froze, gripping the edge of my desk as Clara’s words sent a flood of unwanted memories crashing into me. When I turned, I kept my face neutral, even though my heart raced. Clara stood with one hand on her hip, her designer suit immaculate, and her smile was as condescending as I remembered.
“Good luck keeping up,” Clara added, her eyes glinting with mock pity. “I doubt you’ll last a week.”
I opened my mouth, ready to fire back, but Ethan’s voice cut through the tension before I could speak.
“Clara,” he said, his tone laced with irritation. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like… literally anywhere but here?”
Clara’s smile faltered, and her glare sharpened as she turned her attention to Ethan. But she didn’t argue. With a sharp toss of her hair, she spun on her heel and stalked off, her heels stomping angrily against the floor.
The air felt lighter the moment she was gone.
“Thanks,” I muttered reluctantly, not looking at Ethan.
“Don’t thank me,” he replied, flipping through the file I’d just handed him. “I just didn’t want to waste time watching you two bicker. Now get back to work.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t bother responding. I returned to my desk and threw myself into the remaining files, determined to finish before the deadline.
By the time I finished the last summary, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. I stood to stretch, rolling my shoulders, but a sound caught my attention—Ethan’s voice drifting through the partially open door of his office.
It was different this time. Low, tense, and sharp, completely unlike the cool sarcasm he usually wielded. I crept closer, straining to make out the words.
“I don’t care what it takes,” he said, his voice biting. “Fix it. I’m not letting this lawsuit ruin everything.”