Monday arrived faster than I expected.
My alarm blared at 6:30 a.m., yanking me from a fitful sleep. I groaned, face buried in the sheets, heart hammering already.
Today wasn't just any Monday—it was my first day at Ravenscroft Global, working alongside Victor and Elena. No pressure, right?
I swung my legs off the bed, trying to tame my messy hair, and muttered, "Okay, Lys, you can do this. You have to."
The shower offered a brief sanctuary. Hot water pounded my shoulders, as if trying to wash away the panic.
I hummed a tune—more nervous squeak than melody—while brushing my teeth with exaggerated care.
Lotion followed, slow strokes over arms and legs, trying to make my skin glow just enough to look professional, without seeming vain.
I pulled out the black two-piece suit Aaron had helped me pick.
It was weird how he knew exactly what looked good on me, he never seemed wrong. Sleek, sharp, professional.
My reflection stared back with confidence I didn't feel. I had to fake it.
Flashback – Saturday, 2:30 p.m., Etiquette Boutique
"Hi, Mrs.—" a familiar voice called.
"Aaron!" I shouted, spinning around. He leaned casually against the wall, grin wide. "I thought you wouldn't come!"
"I'm here now," he said, shrugging. "Besides, you sent me your location."
"I… I didn't!" I stammered.
"Yes, you did," he teased.
We went through the ritual of suits, skirts, and shirts.
I twirled in front of the mirror, feeling a strange pride. For the first time in ages, I felt like I could walk into a room and not completely crumble.
Aaron's calm presence grounded me, like a secret armor I didn't even know I was wearing.
Back to Monday
I was already dressed. Hair pinned neatly. Shoes clicking sharply against the marble floor. The house was quiet. Everyone had left for work. My nerves churned. Today was not a day for lazy arrivals.
"Let's go!" I shouted down to the driver.
The ride to the office was chaotic. The car ran out of gas.
My mind raced so fast, I didn't even notice the fuel light. The driver cursed under his breath, fumbling to fix the situation.
I bit my lip, heart hammering, time slipping away. 7:50 a.m.—I had ten minutes, and the usual ride took twenty.
I jumped out, waving frantically at passing taxis. Four went by before one finally stopped. The driver apologized repeatedly, but I barely heard him.
By the time we arrived, my chest felt tight, legs wobbly, and my heels stabbed into my feet like tiny daggers.
And then, finally, the towering glass building loomed before me:
RAVENSCROFT GLOBAL.
The name alone felt heavy.
Inside, everything gleamed—glass, marble, steel. The air-conditioning was sharp and sterile.
People moved with quiet efficiency, tailored suits and controlled expressions.
And then the whispers began.
"Isn't that the boss's sister-in-law?"
My ears burned.
I signed in, my handwriting slightly uneven, and a kind woman instructed me to sit and wait .
Each second stretched. My mind raced—Did Victor know I'd be late? Would he glare? Would Elena rescue me?
.
"Miss… Mr. Ravenscroft wants to see you now," the receptionist finally said.
My heart sank into my stomach as i was escorted down a long, bright hallway.
My heels echoed unnaturally against glass and marble.
The door opened. Ten people populated the room—seated behind sleek desks or standing in groups, dressed in shades of gray, black, and navy.
Victor sat at the center, perfect posture, every inch of his authority incarnate.
Elena was poised, calm—but her presence did nothing to ease my tension.
I forced a smile, waving nervously, I didn't know what else to fo with their glares.
"You're twenty minutes late, ma'am," Victor said, voice cutting through the room.
My legs trembled. Every polished surface, every executive gaze amplified my mistake.
"Do you realize the time, ma'am?" His tone was sharp, unyielding—no warmth, no teasing. Every word was authority, precise and absolute.
"Yes, sir," I whispered.
He gestured to the room. "Look around. This is your first day, and you show up late? This is completely unacceptable".
You represent Ravenscroft Global from the moment you walk in. Do you understand?"
The room was silent. Whispers I had feared now seemed carved into the air.
"Good," he said finally. A brief reprieve.
My chest tightened.
He dismissed the moment like it meant nothing to him.
But it meant everything to me.
Orientation barely lasted five minutes before I was assigned to Operations Support. No gentle welcome. No slow introduction.
Thrown straight into the storm.
Lorata was introduced as my guide.
Victor's sister.
Calm, precise, every word clipped—her demeanor had a subtle edge, as if each instruction tested my patience and skill.
Every glance she threw carried that "survive or fail" energy, making the day feel like a gauntlet.
Chaos swallowed me immediately. Phones rang endlessly. Emails stacked up. Files were passed across desks with urgency that felt almost aggressive.
By mid-morning, my head was spinning.
And then Lorata appeared beside my desk.
"Take this to my brother."
My stomach flipped.
She didn't look at me twice. Just continued reviewing something on her tablet.
"And Alyssa?" she added, already walking away.
"Yes?"
"Don't take long."
I stood slowly, smoothing my blazer. My fingers felt clumsy against the fabric.
I told myself it was just another task. Just a file. Just his office.
Just him.
The hallway felt narrower this time. My heels echoed too sharply against the polished floor.
I could feel eyes flick toward me as I passed. I kept walking.
I knocked gently.
"Come in."
His voice was low and firm.
I pushed the door open.
He stood behind his desk, sleeves perfectly aligned, jacket buttoned. He was reading something, pen in hand.
He didn't look up when I entered.
For a second, I thought maybe he truly hadn't noticed.
Then I realized — he had.
The air had changed.
"Place it on the table," he said, eyes still on the document.
I walked forward carefully and set the file down. My hand trembled slightly, and I hated that it did.
I turned to leave.
"Alyssa."
My name in his voice did something to my spine.
I froze.
"Close the door."
My heart skipped.
I did.
When I turned back around, he was no longer pretending to read.
He was watching me.
Fully.
Not like a boss assessing an employee.
Like a man holding something back.
His gaze moved over me slowly — not crude, not rushed, just calmly accessing me from head to toe.
His jaw flexed.
"You adjusted well today," he said evenly.
"Yes, sir."
He stepped around the desk calmly.
But there was tension in his shoulders now. In the way his fingers flexed once at his side before settling.
He stopped in front of me.
Close enough that I could feel the warmth from his body.
Close enough that my breath changed.
His voice dropped—no longer executive. No longer distant.
"Welcome, Alyssa."
My name sounded different in his mouth.
Softer.
His thumb brushed lightly over my wrist before he added, low enough that it felt like it belonged only to me—
"I love having you here."
My breath caught.
His eyes held mine—not the corporate stare from the boardroom. Something deeper. Something controlled but burning underneath.
For a second, the room felt smaller.
I let out the smallest smile before I could stop myself.
His hand lifted towards me, I thought he was going to adjust my collar .
But instead, his fingers brushed the side of my waist.
Lightly.
Like he wasn't sure if he should.
My breath hitched before I could stop it.
His thumb pressed slightly into the curve of my hip through the fabric of the suit — not inappropriate, not crude.
But not professional.
Not at all.
His eyes darkened at my reaction.
And then.
He exhaled slowly, as if steadying himself.
"You fit in well here," he murmured.
Then his fingers slid just barely to my jaw.
His thumb brushed once against my cheek softly, it made me twitch a little.
And then I saw it — the restraint.
His throat moved as he swallowed something down.
He stepped back abruptly, creating distance.
Professional again.
His cold mask sliding back into place.
And I hated that my stomach flipped.
I hated that butterflies erupted under my skin.
I hated that I loved the way his hand had felt at my waist.
This wasn't why I took the job.
I didn't come here for this.
I came here to distract myself from him.
To build something separate.
To stop wanting what wasn't mine.
"Yes, sir," I said quietly, because I couldn't trust myself to say anything else.
He held my gaze a second longer.
Then he turned away, picking up another file as if nothing had happened.
"You may go." he said staring at the file.
Dismissed.
I walked toward the door, pulse racing.
When I stepped into the hallway, Lorata was leaning against the wall outside, scrolling through her phone.
She barely looked up.
"You're quick," she said casually. "Good. Back to work."
I nodded swiftly
But as I walked back down the corridor, my skin still burned where he had touched me.
Butterflies, feelings i taught i was overcoming.
I didn't want to be sent to his office again.
And at the same time —
I knew I would remember the way his fingers felt for the rest of the day.
By 6:00 p.m., my body ached. My heels felt like torture devices.
My brain buzzed from overstimulation.
I packed up quickly, ready to escape.
Almost free, workers were all disappearing one by one.
I stepped out of the Ravenscrofts building, finally feeling the cool evening air press against my face.
"what a day".
I sighed with exhaustion,ready to hit home.
But then
My phone buzzed.
A message from Elena's assistant.
" Miss Alyssa, please return to the office."
My stomach dropped, my heart sank in disappointment
"What is it this time?" I muttered.