Leonidas International HQ. Manhattan, NY—USA | 12.45
New York, the Big Apple. A city that never sleeps. Just like Leonidas International, the global powerhouse headquartered in the Leonidas Center—a skyscraper complex owned by the Leonidas family for more than a century. Rising proudly over Fifth Avenue, one of Manhattan's most exclusive shopping districts, the tower gleamed with luxury and cutting-edge design. Its advanced soundproofing technology kept the chaos of the city outside, but inside, the building pulsed with life: the echo of hurried footsteps, the low hum of conversations, the constant clatter of keyboards, the whirl of copiers, and the sharp trill of phones.
On the 103rd floor—the highest level of the tower—an entirely different rhythm of urgency played out.
"Yes, hello? This is Celine, Mr. Xavier Leonidas secretary," said the young woman, balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear. Her fingers never paused on the keyboard, eyes fixed on the monitor in front of her.
The lanyard on her blouse read: CELINE RIEGO ATMADJAYA, Secretary. Her pale-blue tie-neck blouse and cream high-waist skirt framed her elegance with effortless precision.
"Alright, Mr. Jake, regarding the report you submitted to Mr. Leonidas—" her warm brown eyes flicked briefly to the notes pinned to her desk, her free hand twirling a strand of long black hair that spilled into her lap. "You can collect it from my desk. Mr. Leonidas has requested some revisions." She ended the call with her usual polished charm. "Yes, Mr. Jake. You're welcome."
"Ms. Riego…"
Celine turned at the sound of a familiar voice. A blond man stepped out of the elevator, crossing the distance quickly to her desk. As always, like everyone in the company who struggled with her last name, he chose to call her Ms. Riego instead of Ms. Atmadjaya.
"Yes?" She rose from her chair with a practiced smile. Isaac—the CFO's secretary—offered her a folder.
"I brought the updated financial statements for Mr. X. Could you review them first?"
Mr. X—Xavier Matthew Leonidas.
Spanish-born billionaire. CEO and sole owner of Leonidas International. The man who ruled the company from behind the doors just a few steps from her desk.
"Of course, I'll bring it straight to Mr. X," Celine replied, skimming the first page before closing the folder. "Thanks, Isaac."
"Oh, and Celine…"
Celine had just reached for the intercom to request permission to enter Mr. Leonidas's office when Isaac's voice pulled her back. Her lips curved in a polite smile, though impatience flickered beneath the surface. Couldn't he see the mountain of paperwork cluttering her desk? She needed to clear it before lunch. And she refused to miss lunch today. She needed the energy if she was going to survive another round of meetings with Mr. X.
"Well? Is there anything else I can help you with?" she asked lightly, her nude lipstick softening the edge of her words.
"Not really. I was just wondering if… maybe you'd like to have lunch with me," Isaac said, his tone tinged with shy hesitation.
Celine's smile didn't falter, though it took every ounce of her self-control not to roll her eyes. Oh, please. Not this, not now.
"I don't—"
"If not lunch, then maybe dinner after work?" Isaac pressed, his hopeful smile faltering at the edges.
"I'm sorry, Isaac, but I really can't," Celine declined softly, her voice carrying the gentle courtesy people often attributed to her Asian heritage.
The flicker of disappointment in his hazel eyes quickly shifted into embarrassment. He nodded hurriedly, forcing a small smile. "Alright, then. Just… let me know if you ever have some free time."
There won't be any free time, Celine thought. Still, she simply nodded.
Isaac smiled once more before retreating toward the elevator, while Celine turned her attention back to the intercom, calling Mr. X without sparing him another glance.
She wasn't naive. She knew exactly where Isaac's invitations would lead. And truthfully, he wasn't a bad man—steady career, fairly handsome, with those bright hazel eyes. It wasn't about arrogance, nor was it about heartbreak or fear of love. It was just that, right now, Celine saw romance as nothing but a waste of time. At twenty-nine, she had no intention of letting anything pull her away from the career she was determined to shape, to prove her worth and shine as brilliantly as she could.
Love… Yes, she believed in it. She had faith it existed. She just hadn't found a man who was truly worthy of it yet. And perhaps, she wasn't even sure she needed one. Not someone who would add nothing of value to her life. Not someone who might disturb the balance she had fought so hard to build.
Celine had grown accustomed to shining on her own.
***
"Fried rice, please," Celine said to the cafeteria staff during her lunch break.
After the whirlwind of tasks she had endured since morning, the sight of fried rice on the lunch menu felt like a small mercy—even if it would never taste as good as the MSG-laced nasi goreng back home in Indonesia. Still, rice was rice. And free meals three times a day were one of the company perks she was more than grateful for; every dollar saved was another dollar earned.
Balancing her tray, she glanced at what her coworkers had chosen. Sandwiches and cola. Cookies and cola. Chicken salad and orange juice. She shook her head in disbelief. How do these people survive without rice?
Celine carried her tray to a table already filled with familiar faces: Ronald, Eva, Keenan, Agatha, and Ester—colleagues from marketing, public relations, sustainability, and programming. They were the first friends she had made after joining the company. So when Ruby, Mr. Leonidas's senior secretary, transferred to another division, Celine didn't worry about being left alone.
"Celine! I heard Hotshot Isaac has his eyes on you. Is it true?" Eva leaned in with a mischievous sparkle as she twirled pasta around her fork.
Hotshot Isaac. Celine failed to stifle a smile at the nickname her friends had given the CFO's secretary.
"No. Just a rumor," she replied smoothly. "We've only spoken a few times for work."
"Don't lie! I heard it straight from Isaac himself. He said you—"
"You heard it from Isaac himself?" Celine cut her off, arching her brows playfully. "Are you two that close? Close enough to share secrets?"
"Celine's right," Keenan jumped in, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. "Maybe you're the one who's close to Isaac."
"Sounds suspicious. Are you hiding something from us?" Ronald added, ruffling his blond hair dramatically, his narrowed gaze brimming with mock suspicion.
Celine hid her grin. Her diversion had worked. Moments later, both Ester and Agatha piled on, firing teasing questions at Eva until the poor girl was flustered and protesting, her cheeks turning pinker with every passing second. Their table erupted in laughter.
Hopeless blondes with their blue eyes and gossiping tongues, Celine thought, amused, as she focused on her food.
Her gaze wandered now and then across the cafeteria, scanning the sea of blond hair and blue eyes. People with black hair like hers were rare enough to count on one hand. Among the upper echelons of the company, only one stood out—a man with black hair and striking blue eyes. The boss himself: Xavier Matthew Leonidas.
"Why are you staring around like it's your first day here?" Keenan's voice snapped her back to the table. "Don't tell me you're still curious about the lack of dark-haired employees?"
Celine shrugged, slipping another spoonful of rice into her mouth.
"I already told you why, remember?" Eva jumped in quickly, seizing the chance to shift the spotlight off herself. "They say Aurora Leonidas—Mr. Leonidas's wife—has a thing for dark hair and blue eyes. So, rumor has it, because he's obsessed with her, Mr. Leonidas set an unspoken rule: no hiring men who look like her type. Especially not here, under his roof."
Celine had heard the rumor before. She didn't believe it—nor did she care. After all, Christian, Xavier's right-hand man, had black hair. His eyes just weren't blue.
"Thinking about things that aren't my business won't fill my stomach," she said flatly. With that, she returned to her meal, letting the chatter around her fade. Her colleagues' gossip swirled into another topic soon enough. Gossip couldn't fill her stomach. Fried rice could.
But then a sharp clatter broke through the cafeteria buzz. Everyone turned toward the sound, including Celine.
A tray of coffee cups had crashed to the floor, spilling dark liquid across the tiles—and across the white shirt of the man carrying them.
Black hair.
Celine's brows lifted. In a company where nearly every male employee was blond, the sight of another man with dark hair was unusual.
"Oh no—poor Caden," Ester winced.
"Caden?" Celine asked.
"Yeah. The new guy in my division, Caden Leo. Remember I told you about him? Since day one, Mr. Mills—you know, my obnoxious senior—has been making his life miserable. Always bossing him around, piling work on him that isn't even his responsibility. And Caden just… takes it."
Celine frowned, disbelief hardening her expression. What could anyone possibly gain from bullying a new hire? What good did it do the company? Her gaze swept back to the mess. No wonder the tray had gone down—too many cups, too heavy for one person. Even two would've struggled.
This wasn't clumsiness. It was deliberate. And yet, though dozens of eyes watched, no one moved to help. Only a flustered janitor rushed forward, kneeling to mop up the mess beside the young man, whose Middle Eastern features tightened with embarrassment.
"Celine! Where are you going? You haven't finished your lunch," Eva called out as she rose.
Celine glanced back at her plate, sighed, and smiled ruefully.
Goodbye, fried rice.
Most of her colleagues stayed seated, protecting their precious thirty minutes of freedom. She couldn't blame them. At Leonidas International, the perks were generous, but the expectations were punishing. Every spare second counted.
Even so—Celine couldn't sit still. She remembered too clearly her own first days, the panic of being new, of spilling food all over the floor with no one stopping to help.
She crouched, gathering cups with quick precision. "You've got fifteen minutes left," she told the man, glancing at her watch. "That's enough time to run to the store down the block, buy a clean shirt, and come back before anyone notices."
"I—"
"It won't be enough if you just stand here," she cut him off briskly, still focused on the mugs. "Unless you'd rather finish the day looking like that. Go. I'll order new coffees for you. Just leave me the note, and I'll make sure they get delivered to your division."
For a moment, silence. Then a slip of paper appeared in her line of sight.
"Thank you," he murmured.
She took it, nodding. When she finally looked up, he was smiling at her—warmly, gratefully. But the glance was fleeting, and she didn't linger on whether Caden Leo's face carried any remarkable features, beyond that striking black hair.
Because truthfully, she wasn't interested.
While the poor guy slipped away, Celine stayed behind to deal with the chaos, her thoughts already drifting back to the fried rice she'd abandoned.