Monday mornings were always rough, but this one felt different. This one felt like stepping into the lion's den.
Amara Reyes checked her reflection in the subway window as the train rattled toward midtown. She had pinned her hair in a neat bun, ironed her blazer twice, and polished her shoes until they shone. Still, she looked like what she was—someone trying desperately to look like she belonged.
The Kane Global building loomed ahead when she emerged onto the street, a gleaming tower of steel and glass that seemed to pierce the clouds. Amara paused on the sidewalk, clutching the strap of her tote bag as the morning crowd swept past. It wasn't just a building; it was a fortress of power. Somewhere at the very top sat Adrian Kane, a man she'd already learned could make her second-guess herself with a single word.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Sofia: Good luck, Ama. Don't let him scare you. Text me when you survive.
Amara smiled despite her nerves and typed back quickly: Survive? I'll thrive. She wished she believed her own words.
Inside, the lobby hummed with energy. Executives in sharp suits breezed past security, assistants hurried by with tablets clutched to their chests, and the receptionist barely looked up as Amara swiped her temporary badge. Everything about the place whispered: move fast or get out of the way.
By the time the elevator doors slid open on the sixty-second floor, Amara's heart was thudding steadily in her chest. She stepped out onto a carpet so soft it muffled her footsteps. The hallway gleamed with glass offices and panoramic views of Manhattan that made her dizzy if she looked too long.
A tall woman with dark hair and brisk movements approached. "You must be Miss Reyes."
"Yes."
"I'm Claudia, Mr. Kane's operations manager. I'll get you settled." Her heels clicked against the floor as she led the way. "Your desk is here."
The workstation was sleek, modern, and positioned directly outside Adrian Kane's office doors. Too close for comfort. Amara could practically feel the power radiating from beyond the frosted glass.
Claudia gestured to the brand-new laptop and leather notebook waiting for her. "He'll expect your phone on at all times. His schedule changes by the minute. He hates being late, hates excuses, and hates being told no. Keep him ahead of everyone else, and maybe you'll last longer than the last assistant."
Amara swallowed. "How long did she last?"
"Four days." Claudia's lips curved, not quite a smile. "Coffee first. Black. No sugar. And don't be late with it."
Before Amara could respond, Claudia was already striding away, leaving her alone with her nerves.
The executive lounge was easy enough to find. The industrial coffee machine gleamed like it had been imported from Italy. Amara carefully filled a cup, her hands trembling only slightly, then walked back toward the office.
She pushed open the frosted doors.
Adrian Kane was already there, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, eyes glued to his laptop. His suit jacket was draped carelessly over the back of his chair, as though even his clothes obeyed him.
"You're late," he said without looking up.
Her jaw tightened. "It's eight-oh-two. I was here before eight."
"Excuses," he replied smoothly, taking the coffee from her hand. "We start at seven-thirty. Didn't Claudia tell you?"
"She said eight."
At that, he finally looked at her. Steel-blue eyes locked on hers, sharp and unreadable. "You'll learn not to listen to anyone else about me. Only me."
Her pulse jumped. She steadied her voice. "Then perhaps you should give me your rules directly."
His brow arched, amused at her boldness. "Very well. Rule one: anticipate what I need before I ask. Rule two: do not question me in front of others. Rule three: don't waste my time."
Amara nodded, even as rebellion sparked in her chest. "Noted."
"Good." He slid a thick stack of papers across the desk toward her. "Start with these."
She glanced down. Contracts. Thirty pages each, dense with legal jargon. "You want me to…?"
"Summarize them. Condense each into one page with risks and benefits. Before lunch."
Her stomach dropped. That was hours of work, maybe days. But she lifted her chin. "Okay."
Adrian's lips twitched as though he'd expected her to refuse. "Don't let me down, Miss Reyes."
Back at her desk, Amara set to work. The words swam before her eyes, unfamiliar terms forcing her to search definitions online. She scribbled notes furiously, highlighting clauses, chewing her lip raw. Time slipped away in a blur of paper and coffee.
At eleven-thirty, she straightened the neatly typed summaries and marched into Adrian's office. He was on the phone, his voice clipped, but his eyes flicked to the papers. One brow rose.
She set them on his desk and stepped back. "As requested."
He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "That fast?"
"Yes." Her voice didn't waver.
For a moment, surprise glimmered in his gaze. Then he waved her out.
It wasn't praise. But it wasn't dismissal either.
The rest of the day tested her even more. She juggled phone calls, scheduled overlapping meetings, and tried to decode Adrian's shorthand notes that looked more like encryption than handwriting. At one point, he strode past her desk without warning, dropping a flash drive.
"Print, bind, and deliver to conference room three. Five minutes."
Amara's heart lurched. She ran to the copy room, cursed under her breath when the printer jammed, fixed it with trembling hands, then sprinted down the hallway. She slipped into the conference room just as the executives were settling.
They stared at her curiously as she set the bound packets on the table. "New assistant," one murmured. "How long do you think she'll last?"
Their quiet laughter stung, but Amara kept her head high and left the room.
By five o'clock, her feet ached and her brain felt like mush. Still, she wasn't broken. She had survived.
She was shutting down her laptop when voices drifted from Adrian's office. The doors were cracked open.
"I don't care what it costs," Adrian's voice was low, hard. "Find him and shut it down before it reaches the board."
A pause, then his tone dropped colder. "If he's the leak, I'll handle it personally."
Amara froze, breath catching. Leak? Handle it personally? She knew she shouldn't be listening, but the words rooted her to the spot.
The door creaked. Adrian stepped out, phone still in hand. His gaze landed on her instantly.
Those steel-blue eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade.
"How much did you hear?" he asked quietly.
Amara's heart slammed against her ribs. She opened her mouth, but no words came.