---
Chapter Two – The First Test
The next morning, Elena arrived at Frost Enterprises forty-five minutes early.
Her reflection in the gleaming glass doors of the lobby showed a woman trying desperately to look composed—her brown hair smoothed into a neat twist, her navy skirt suit pressed to perfection, her heels polished until they shone. She carried a folder tucked under her arm, not just with the signed contract Mr. Frost had given her, but with notes she'd made the night before: his calendar, common business terms, and even a list of reminders she thought might impress him.
She stepped into the elevator, pressed twenty-seven, and exhaled slowly.
"Today, you survive," she whispered to herself.
When she reached her desk, the floor was still quiet, but Alexander Frost's office light was already on. She hesitated for a moment before placing her things down. Then she noticed it—a small smear of fingerprints still on the edge of his glass desk from yesterday, exactly where hers had been.
Her face heated.
So he hadn't been joking.
She dug into her bag, pulled out a soft cloth she'd grabbed from her apartment, and tiptoed into his office. The man himself wasn't there—at least not yet—and she seized the opportunity to wipe down the desk. The surface gleamed once more, flawless, reflecting the skyline beyond the windows.
When she turned to leave, his voice cut through the silence.
"Efficient."
She froze. He was standing by the window, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a mug of coffee. How long had he been there?
"G-good morning, Mr. Frost," she stammered.
He didn't move, didn't even turn his head. "Five minutes early. Better than yesterday."
Heat prickled at the back of her neck. "I thought it best to start the day prepared."
Finally, he faced her. His gray eyes locked on hers with unnerving precision, and she wondered if anything escaped his notice.
"Preparedness is the difference between success and collapse," he said. "You'll learn that quickly here."
She nodded, clutching her folder tighter.
"Your desk is already loaded with tasks. Prioritize the quarterly reports first, then schedule the board meeting I rescheduled last night. I assume Mrs. Greene showed you how to access the secure files?"
"Yes."
"Good. Then prove I didn't waste my time hiring you."
With that, he returned to his desk, dismissing her as if she were nothing more than a shadow in his periphery.
---
By mid-morning, Elena's head throbbed.
Her inbox overflowed with dozens of unread emails, half of which required immediate replies. She fumbled with the company's complex scheduling system, accidentally double-booking a client meeting before scrambling to fix it. Worse, she nearly sent an email with the wrong attachment—something that, she knew instinctively, Alexander Frost would have eviscerated her for.
"Breathe," she muttered to herself, tapping furiously at the keyboard. "You've got this."
At one point, she carried a file into his office, only to find him on the phone. He didn't look at her, didn't pause, didn't even acknowledge her presence. He simply extended a hand without breaking his conversation. She placed the file in his palm, and in a fluid motion, he flipped it open, scanned the contents, and signed where necessary—all while issuing rapid-fire instructions into the phone in flawless French.
Elena blinked.
She didn't understand a word, but the cadence of his voice was smooth, commanding. Whoever was on the other end responded quickly, submissively, as though Alexander's word was final.
When he ended the call, he slid the file back toward her. His eyes lifted.
"Why are you still here?"
She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, clutching the file to her chest. "Sorry."
Back at her desk, she dropped into her chair and groaned softly. She had worked for difficult bosses before, but nothing like this. Alexander Frost wasn't just demanding—he was relentless. He expected her to anticipate his needs before he voiced them, to act without hesitation, to keep pace with a mind that never seemed to stop moving.
And yet…
There was something about him. Something beneath the ice.
Twice, she had caught him staring at the skyline, a flicker of thought crossing his face, shadowed and heavy.
Got it! Let's pick up right where Chapter Two left off — Elena noticing those rare flickers of humanity in Alexander Frost's expression. This part will deepen the intrigue about his past while pushing Elena into her first real clash with him.
---
Chapter Two – The First Test (continued)
Twice that morning, Elena had caught him staring at the skyline, his expression shifting—just for a heartbeat—into something almost vulnerable. Not soft, exactly, but shadowed, as though the city reminded him of something he'd rather forget.
Each time, the moment vanished in an instant, his mask of cold efficiency snapping back into place before anyone else could notice.
Elena told herself not to care. It wasn't her job to care. Her job was to survive.
But curiosity was a stubborn thing.
---
By noon, her desk looked like a storm had passed through. Files stacked in precarious towers, sticky notes clinging to her monitor like desperate survivors, and a half-empty coffee cup that had long since gone cold. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten, but the blinking cursor on her screen seemed to mock her.
A sharp tone from the intercom cut through the silence.
"Miss Carter."
She flinched, nearly spilling her coffee. "Yes, Mr. Frost?"
"My office. Now."
Her pulse spiked. She smoothed her skirt, grabbed her notepad, and hurried inside.
Alexander was standing behind his desk, a document in his hand. His expression was unreadable, but the storm brewing in his eyes told her this wasn't going to be pleasant.
"You sent this report to the wrong recipient." He tossed the paper onto the desk. The single sheet slid across the glossy surface, stopping inches from her hands. "Care to explain?"
Elena's stomach dropped. She'd triple-checked every email. Hadn't she?
"I—I must have clicked the wrong contact," she admitted, heat rushing to her cheeks. "I'll fix it immediately."
He stepped closer, and she realized just how tall he was, how effortlessly he carried authority. "Fixing mistakes wastes time. My time. I don't tolerate errors, Miss Carter. One mistake in this company can cost millions."
Her chest tightened, shame battling with frustration. She'd worked herself to exhaustion already, and this—this wasn't fair.
"I understand," she said carefully, forcing her voice steady. "But I'm learning your systems. It won't happen again."
Something flickered in his gaze—approval? Doubt? She couldn't tell.
"See that it doesn't," he said finally, his tone clipped. "And eat something. I don't employ assistants who faint at their desks."
Her lips parted, surprised by the unexpected remark. Was that… concern? No, impossible. It was just another way of reminding her to be efficient, nothing more.
Still, as she left his office, her heart thudded faster than it should have.
---
The afternoon stretched on, a relentless march of meetings and phone calls. Elena learned quickly that Alexander's world had no room for hesitation. If he asked for a number, she had to have it memorized. If he requested a file, it had to be in his hands before he finished the sentence.
But beneath the pressure, a strange determination rose in her. Every sharp word from him became a challenge. Every cold glance became fuel. She wasn't going to be another assistant who quit after a week.
By the time the office lights dimmed and most of the staff had gone home, Elena was still at her desk, typing furiously. She glanced at Alexander's office—his light still on.
Of course.
When she finally stood to leave, exhaustion weighing heavy in her limbs, she caught sight of him through the glass wall. He was seated at his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Papers lay scattered before him, but he wasn't working.
He was staring at a single photograph.
Elena couldn't make out the image, but the way his fingers brushed the edge of the frame—gentle, almost reverent—made something ache in her chest.
The Ice King wasn't made of stone after all.
And that, she realized, might be the most dangerous discovery after all.
Twice that morning, Elena had caught him staring at the skyline, his expression shifting—just for a heartbeat—into something almost vulnerable. Not soft, exactly, but shadowed, as though the city reminded him of something he'd rather forget.
Each time, the moment vanished in an instant, his mask of cold efficiency snapping back into place before anyone else could notice.
Elena told herself not to care. It wasn't her job to care. Her job was to survive.
But curiosity was a stubborn thing.
By noon, her desk looked like a storm had passed through. Files stacked in precarious towers, sticky notes clinging to her monitor like desperate survivors, and a half-empty coffee cup that had long since gone cold. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten, but the blinking cursor on her screen seemed to mock her.
A sharp tone from the intercom cut through the silence.
"Miss Carter."
She flinched, nearly spilling her coffee. "Yes, Mr. Frost?"
"My office. Now."
Her pulse spiked. She smoothed her skirt, grabbed her notepad, and hurried inside.
Alexander was standing behind his desk, a document in his hand. His expression was unreadable, but the storm brewing in his eyes told her this wasn't going to be pleasant.
"You sent this report to the wrong recipient." He tossed the paper onto the desk. The single sheet slid across the glossy surface, stopping inches from her hands. "Care to explain?"
Elena's stomach dropped. She'd triple-checked every email. Hadn't she?
"I—I must have clicked the wrong contact," she admitted, heat rushing to her cheeks. "I'll fix it immediately."
He stepped closer, and she realized just how tall he was, how effortlessly he carried authority. "Fixing mistakes wastes time. My time. I don't tolerate errors, Miss Carter. One mistake in this company can cost millions."
Her chest tightened, shame battling with frustration. She'd worked herself to exhaustion already, and this—this wasn't fair.
"I understand," she said carefully, forcing her voice steady. "But I'm learning your systems. It won't happen again."
Something flickered in his gaze—approval? Doubt? She couldn't tell.
"See that it doesn't," he said finally, his tone clipped. "And eat something. I don't employ assistants who faint at their desks."
Her lips parted, surprised by the unexpected remark. Was that… concern? No, impossible. It was just another way of reminding her to be efficient, nothing more.
Still, as she left his office, her heart thudded faster than it should have.
The afternoon stretched on, a relentless march of meetings and phone calls. Elena learned quickly that Alexander's world had no room for hesitation. If he asked for a number, she had to have it memorized. If he requested a file, it had to be in his hands before he finished the sentence.
But beneath the pressure, a strange determination rose in her. Every sharp word from him became a challenge. Every cold glance became fuel. She wasn't going to be another assistant who quit after a week.
By the time the office lights dimmed and most of the staff had gone home, Elena was still at her desk, typing furiously. She glanced at Alexander's office—his light still on.
Of course.
When she finally stood to leave, exhaustion weighing heavy in her limbs, she caught sight of him through the glass wall. He was seated at his desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Papers lay scattered before him, but he wasn't working.
He was staring at a single photograph.
Elena couldn't make out the image, but the way his fingers brushed the edge of the frame—gentle, almost reverent—made something ache in her chest.