New York City was louder than Maya Benson expected.
She stood on the sidewalk outside the glass tower of Titan Digital Systems, her suitcase beside her, her heart thudding hard enough to shake her ribs. Cars honked, people shouted, someone laughed into their phone, and above all of it, the building rose like a monolith—sleek, silver, and sharp-edged, as though it had been carved from a block of cold ambition.
"This is really happening," she whispered to herself.
A passing cyclist shot her a strange look.
Maya didn't care. She had worked for years for this moment—countless nights studying, endless rejection emails, small jobs that barely paid rent. And then, three weeks ago, a miracle: an offer letter from Titan Digital Systems, one of the most competitive and prestigious tech conglomerates in the United States. With over 30,000 employees and offices across continents, Titan wasn't just a company; it was a world of its own.
And she was now part of it.
She pushed her glasses up her nose, squared her shoulders, and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. The automatic doors slid open, ushering her inside.
The lobby stole her breath.
A cascading chandelier of shimmering crystal hung overhead like falling stars. Marble floors stretched endlessly in every direction. A giant digital wall displayed Titan's core achievements—billion-dollar deals, innovations, global expansions. Everything gleamed.
And then she saw the people.
Men and women in tailored suits, sharp heels, sleek hairstyles. Everyone walked with purpose. No one wandered. No one drifted.
I definitely need to look less… confused.
Maya smoothed down her skirt and headed toward the reception desk.
A woman with a tight bun and a face carved from disapproval looked up. "ID?"
Maya fumbled in her bag. "Yes! Sorry, here you go. I'm Maya Benson. Today is my first day."
The woman scanned her ID, then her expression changed—slightly, but enough for Maya to notice.
"Oh," she murmured. "You're… her."
"Her?" Maya blinked. "Um… who?"
But the receptionist simply handed her a visitor badge. "Take the elevator to the 48th floor. Someone will meet you there."
"Wait—48th? I thought I'd be working in the Communications Department on 32?"
No answer. The receptionist was already typing again.
Maya hesitated, but the people behind her were piling up, and she didn't want to be that new hire.
She hurried toward the elevator bank and pressed the button.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and she stepped inside. As it ascended—10… 20… 30… her heart climbed with it.
By the time it reached 48, her palms were damp.
The doors slid open to reveal a near-silent hallway.
Everything here looked different from the busy floors below—more luxurious, colder, sharper. Even the air felt expensive.
A woman in a navy suit stood waiting, tablet in hand.
"You must be Maya Benson."
"Yes," Maya said slowly. "Is this… really where I'm assigned?"
The woman's eyes flicked over her. "Follow me."
No explanation.
Just long strides down a long hall.
Maya hurried after her.
They stopped before a massive set of double glass doors. Frosted letters were etched across them:
ADRIAN BLACKWOOD
Chief Executive Officer
Maya's breath hitched.
"The CEO's office?" she whispered.
The assistant finally looked at her. "Mr. Blackwood has personally assigned you to his team."
"What? Why? I—I was hired as a junior communications associate."
"Not anymore."
"But—"
"Good luck," the woman said, knocking once before opening the doors and gesturing her inside.
Maya stood frozen for a full second.
Then she stepped in.
The office was enormous—floor-to-ceiling windows, a skyline view, a black marble desk, and a man standing with his back to her, hands in his pockets, staring out at the city.
Her breath stalled.
Even from behind, he radiated authority—tall, broad-shouldered, perfectly still in a navy suit that probably cost more than her entire college tuition. His presence felt… heavy. Controlled. Cold.
"Um… hello?" she said softly.
He didn't turn.
His voice, when he spoke, was smooth but icy.
"You're late."
Maya blinked. "Late? My shift starts at—"
"Eight."
"It's 7:55."
"Which means you should have been here at 7:45."
She opened her mouth, then closed it. "I… didn't know that."
"Now you do."
He turned.
And for the second time that morning, Maya forgot how to breathe.
Adrian Blackwood was unfairly, impossibly handsome—strong jaw, cool gray eyes, perfectly styled dark hair. But there was something else in his expression, something cold and unyielding that made the room feel several degrees colder.
Those gray eyes swept over her like a scanner.
"You're Maya Benson."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes, sir."
"Your résumé is impressive. But résumés mean nothing here. People break under pressure in this office every week. If you plan to stay, you will learn fast."
She swallowed. "I—yes. I'll do my best."
"I don't want your best," he said. "I want results."
Maya nodded, heart pounding.
Adrian moved toward his desk, ignoring her nerves completely.
"You were reassigned to me because I need someone who can think, not panic." He glanced at her briefly. "So far, you're not giving me confidence."
She clenched her hands. "I can improve. Just tell me what you expect."
"Everything."
His eyes locked onto hers.
"I expect everything."
Maya stood straighter. "Then I'll give you everything."
For the first time, his expression flickered—something like surprise, quickly buried under cool indifference.
A moment of silence passed.
Then he tapped a digital tablet on his desk. "Your schedule is linked to mine. You'll accompany me to every meeting, every briefing, and every event. You will answer my calls on the first ring, and you will not waste my time."
Maya felt a bead of sweat slide down her spine.
"Yes, Mr. Blackwood."
"There are also rules," he added. "Do you follow rules, Miss Benson?"
She hesitated. "Usually?"
His eyebrow lifted.
"Then you'll need to change that."
He handed her a sleek black notebook—thin, leather-bound, elegant.
Inside, the first page was labeled:
RULES FOR MY ASSISTANT
Maya blinked. "Wait… assistant? Sir, I wasn't hired as—"
"You are now," Adrian said simply. "Read the rules. Memorize them. Break them, and you'll be replaced."
Her pulse skittered.
She flipped through the first few lines:
1. No small talk.
2. No distractions.
3. No lateness.
4. No excuses.
5. Do not ask personal questions. Ever.
6. Do not touch anything on my desk.
7. Do not speak unless necessary.
There were more—many more—but her brain was already buzzing.
"Any questions?" he asked.
A thousand.
But she shook her head. "No, sir."
"Good. You start now. We have a board meeting in fifteen minutes."
He walked past her, crisp and confident.
She stood alone for a moment, staring at the list of rules.
What had she gotten herself into?
Finally, she whispered the truth out loud:
"My boss is insane."
From behind her, Adrian's voice responded:
"I heard that."
She jumped so hard she nearly dropped the notebook.
He didn't smile.
At all.
"Move, Miss Benson. We don't have time for your dramatics."
And just like that, the coldest man in New York walked out of the office.
And Maya had no choice but to follow.
Maya nearly tripped as she hurried after Adrian Blackwood, clutching the rulebook like a lifeline.
His strides were long, sharp, and purposeful, and she practically had to jog to keep up with him. The hallway seemed to stretch forever, filled with portraits of past CEOs she didn't recognize— stern-faced men with stiff collars and eyes that seemed to judge her every step.
Adrian walked past them without a single glance.
"Is the notebook heavy?" he asked suddenly.
She blinked. "Uh—no."
"Then stop acting like it is."
Her cheeks flushed. She hadn't realized he'd noticed how she was holding it—like it was a brick she wasn't sure she could carry.
They reached the elevator. Adrian pressed the button, then glanced down at her.
"You'll speak when spoken to, Miss Benson. And you'll speak clearly. I don't have time to decipher timid mumbles."
"I—I wasn't mumbling."
"You were."
Maya pressed her lips together. "I'll be clearer from now on."
He didn't respond, but she could have sworn his eyes lingered on her for half a second longer than necessary. The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside.
Floor numbers lit up as they descended.
37… 36… 35…
The silence felt heavy. Adrian stood impossibly straight, hands in his pockets, jaw set with an intensity that made him look carved out of stone.
Maya stared ahead, desperately trying to calm her heart.
She needed this job.
She needed the salary, the experience, the stability. She needed to prove to herself—and to everyone who had doubted her—that she belonged somewhere big, somewhere powerful.
Even if her boss was colder than the Arctic.
When they reached the 20th floor, the doors slid open. Two executives stepped in, talking animatedly—until they saw Adrian.
Instant silence.
"Good morning, Mr. Blackwood," one of them said, straightening his tie nervously.
Adrian nodded once. "Harris."
Maya watched, fascinated. The confident executives who had seemed so powerful a moment ago now looked like students caught cheating on an exam. Adrian didn't intimidate with words; he intimidated by existing.
The elevator chimed as it reached the boardroom level.
"Maya," Adrian said, stepping out, "your job begins before the meeting starts."
She hurried after him. "What do you need me to do, sir?"
"You'll distribute the materials I placed on the conference table," he replied, striding toward a massive door marked BOARD OF DIRECTORS. "You have five minutes."
"Okay—"
"Four minutes and fifty seconds."
She almost groaned.
Inside the boardroom, men and women in immaculate suits milled around, sipping coffee and reviewing documents. The room itself was breathtaking—spanning an entire corner of the building, windows overlooking Manhattan like a moving painting.
Maya spotted a stack of neatly prepared folders on the table.
As she moved to gather them, she felt dozens of eyes on her.
"Who's the new girl?" someone whispered.
"She looks too young," another murmured.
"Does Blackwood know she's here?"
"He doesn't tolerate mistakes."
The murmurs made her neck burn, but she kept her movements steady.
She distributed the folders one by one, trying not to drop anything. Her hands trembled only slightly—hopefully not enough for anyone to notice.
One tall woman with red lipstick raised an eyebrow. "You're his new assistant?"
Maya nodded politely. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good luck."
It didn't sound encouraging.
Before Maya could respond, the room suddenly went silent.
Adrian Blackwood had entered.
His mere presence commanded instant attention. He didn't raise his voice. Didn't smile. Didn't greet anyone warmly. He simply walked to the head of the table, and everyone straightened like soldiers in front of a general.
Maya stepped aside, clutching her notebook.
Adrian glanced her way—barely, but enough to acknowledge her.
The meeting began.
For the first twenty minutes, Maya stood quietly near the wall, absorbing everything. Adrian spoke with precision—crisp, confident, and annoyingly intelligent. He dismantled flawed arguments with a single sentence. He predicted trends like he could see the future. He didn't tolerate rambling or repetition.
Several board members tried challenging him.
None succeeded.
Maya was so focused that she didn't immediately notice when Adrian turned his head slightly.
"Miss Benson."
Her heart jumped. "Yes?"
"Bring me the quarterly projections."
She froze.
The what?
She had no idea where they were.
Adrian's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "The folder at the end of the table," he supplied, voice calm but cutting.
"Oh—right! Yes, sir."
She rushed to grab it, nearly bumping into a chair in her haste. A soft ripple of amusement went through the room, quickly hidden when Adrian glanced around.
Maya hurried to him and placed the folder carefully before him.
Adrian didn't thank her—of course he didn't—but a flicker of approval flashed in his eyes before he shifted his focus back to the board.
The rest of the meeting went on like that—Adrian calling for documents, numbers, charts, and Maya scrambling to keep up. She made two tiny mistakes, both of which earned raised eyebrows but no verbal rebuke.
When the meeting finally ended, the board members filed out, some offering her pitying looks.
Adrian closed his tablet with a soft click.
"Miss Benson."
She straightened. "Yes, sir?"
"You were slow."
She winced. "I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to—"
"No excuses," he said sharply.
She nodded quickly. "I'll improve."
He studied her for a long moment.
"See that you do."
He walked past her, but paused at the door.
"And Miss Benson?"
"Yes?" she asked, bracing herself.
His voice was calm. Controlled.
Almost… unreadable.
"You didn't quit," he said. "That's more than most can say on their first day."
Her breath caught.
Was that… a compliment?
Before she could reply, he added, "Don't let it go to your head."
And then he strode out of the room, leaving Maya stunned, frazzled, exhausted—and strangely determined.
Maybe her boss was cold.
But she wasn't going to freeze.
Not here.
Not now.
Not ever.
She straightened her shoulders, gripped the rulebook tighter, and whispered to herself:
"Game on."