It had been three days since they returned from London. Three days since the gala, the flashing cameras, the champagne towers, and the dizzying thrill of being by Adrian's side. Valentina still couldn't process how close everything had felt, how dangerously close they'd been in that private lounge. Her pulse still jumped whenever she thought of it, which was often.
She pushed the memory away as she entered the sleek, minimalist office. Her heels clicked softly on the marble floors, but the sound seemed to echo too loudly in the vast space.
I'm just an intern here, she thought, adjusting the strap of her bag nervously. Just… an intern. Nothing else.
Adrian was already there, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his phone pressed to his ear. She froze, trying not to let her nerves show, but he caught her glance and gave the faintest nod before turning back to his conversation.
He notices everything, she thought. Everything.
By the time he hung up, Valentina had managed to pour herself a glass of water, though her hands were trembling slightly.
"Valentina," he said, his voice smooth, controlled, with that tone that always made her insides twist. "Sit."
She obeyed, sliding into the chair opposite him, trying to look professional, though her brain was betraying her.
"I've been thinking," he began, folding his hands on the polished desk. "You're an intern, yes. But I need someone reliable, someone who knows my schedule, my contacts, and can handle… things." He tilted his head slightly, studying her like he could see through every carefully constructed layer.
"I… I can do that," she said quickly, trying not to let the nervous flutter in her chest show.
"I'm not asking," he corrected, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'm assigning. You're going to be my personal assistant."
She blinked. "My… personal assistant?"
"Yes." He leaned back, arms crossed. "You're already here. You know my routines. You have some sense of discretion. And frankly…" He paused, letting the words hang just long enough to make her stomach clench. "…I trust you more than anyone else in this office."
Valentina's throat went dry. "I… I don't know what to say."
"Say yes," he said simply. "Or don't say anything, but I'm moving forward regardless."
Her pulse hammered against her ribs. "Yes," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, but firm enough. "Yes, I'll do it."
"Good," he replied. "Let's start immediately. I have meetings today, calls lined up, and…" His eyes lingered on her a moment longer. "…you'll learn quickly or suffer my wrath."
She laughed nervously, the sound small and uneven. "I'll… do my best."
"You'll do more than that," he said, voice low, teasing, just brushing the line of intimacy without crossing it. "You'll do exactly what I need, and nothing else."
Valentina swallowed, trying to maintain composure. Nothing else. That's what he said, but her mind was screaming at her: You're already thinking too much about him. Way too much.
---
The morning unfolded with subtle tension. She followed him from one meeting to another, taking notes, managing his schedule, passing him documents before he even asked. The air between them was thick with unspoken words, lingering touches that were accidental… or maybe not.
At one point, Adrian leaned over the desk to glance at a report. Their shoulders brushed, and Valentina felt heat pool low in her stomach. She cursed softly under her breath.
"You're distracted," he said, not looking at her, just stating it like a fact.
"I'm… I'm not," she stammered, but her voice betrayed her.
"Yes, you are," he said, finally turning his gaze to her. His eyes softened for the briefest second. "It's okay. I get it."
He gets it? she thought. He doesn't even know how much I'm losing my mind right now.
---
By midday, they had returned to the office after a quick lunch, and she was already fumbling slightly with his phone charger. He noticed, of course.
"You're nervous," he said, leaning casually against the edge of the desk.
"I'm not—" she began, then stopped herself. Her hands were shaking slightly, and she realized he had caught it.
"Relax," he said. "You'll learn."
"I just… I don't want to mess anything up."
"You won't," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Not with me watching."
Her chest tightened at the implication, and she had to remind herself: He's my assistant… no. He's my boss. He's my boss. Just my boss.
---
Later, when the afternoon stretched into early evening, she had a moment alone in the lounge area of the office, reviewing schedules for the next day. He entered quietly, not startling her, and leaned on the doorway.
"You've been doing well," he said. "Better than I expected."
Valentina froze mid-note. Her pen slipped slightly on the page. And then, without thinking, her internal sarcasm took over.
"So," she said, leaning back with mock exasperation, "do you expect so little of me that everything I do exceeds your expectations? Should I be insulted or flattered?"
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening ever so slightly. "Both, maybe. But mostly flattered."
She shook her head, laughing softly despite herself. "You're impossible."
"You're impossible," he countered, leaning closer, resting a hand lightly on the back of the chair. "And that's why it's… entertaining."
Entertaining? she thought. Seriously? My life is entertainment now?
"Just so we're clear," she said, holding his gaze, "I work hard. I am competent. And I will prove that even if you think otherwise."
"I'm not doubting it," he said smoothly. "I'm just… noticing things. The details. The way you handle yourself. You're more capable than you let on."
He notices everything, she reminded herself. Even the stuff I don't want him to notice.
---
By the time the workday ended, Valentina's head was spinning. The subtle awkwardness had started to form like a thin film between them. Every glance, every accidental touch lingered longer than it should have. Every conversation carried a weight neither of them wanted to acknowledge aloud.
Adrian gathered his things to leave, pausing at her desk.
"You're coming in early tomorrow," he said. "We have calls before the rest of the office arrives."
"Yes… sir," she replied, the formality tasting strange on her tongue.
"Good," he said. Then, after a moment, softer: "You're… handling this better than I expected."
Valentina's chest tightened. She looked up, eyes narrowing in playful exasperation. "Oh really? AGAIN?? So do you expect so little of me that everything I do exceeds your expectations?" Her tone was light, teasing, but there was a spark of genuine frustration beneath it.
He tilted his head, as if considering her words. "Maybe," he said, voice low. "Maybe I'm just… surprised."
"Or maybe I'm just awesome," she shot back, unable to resist the grin forming despite herself.
"You are," he admitted, just quietly enough for it to feel intimate. "But careful. Too much confidence might get… noticed."
Noticed? she thought, heart hammering. He's talking about me being… me. And I can't even pretend I'm not aware of how close he's standing.
---
Alone afterward, as she gathered her things, her thoughts spun in chaotic loops. He notices everything. He watches everything. He's impossible. And I… I can't stop thinking about him.
Everything feels different, she realized. And it's not just the job. It's him. It's always him.
---