Aria didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until the office doors shut behind her.
The hallway outside the CEO's office felt too normal.
Assistants walked past with tablets. Someone laughed softly down the corridor. A phone rang somewhere.
How could everything look the same when her entire internship had just changed?
You will intern directly under me.
The words replayed in her mind.
Her palms were slightly damp.
The director met her halfway down the executive hall.
"Miss Vale," he said calmly, as if nothing unusual had happened. "For the rest of today, report to Operations. HR will circulate an updated placement draft shortly."
Updated placement draft.
So this wasn't something he'd said in the moment.
It was official.
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.
The Operations floor was busy, bright, alive with the sound of keyboards and muted conversations.
It grounded her.
She needed grounding.
A woman named Clara walked her through the internal system — schedules, document approvals, internal messaging.
"You're one of the selected three, right?" Clara asked casually.
"Yes."
"Congratulations. It's competitive."
Aria smiled faintly.
If only she could explain that "competitive" wasn't the word she would use anymore.
Her mind kept drifting.
Why her?
Why isolate her?
Why not choose someone experienced?
Maybe it was simple.
Maybe he just needed someone new.
Maybe she was overthinking.
Her thoughts were interrupted when several devices pinged at once.
Around the office, employees began checking their screens.
Murmurs spread.
Clara frowned slightly and opened her tablet.
Aria's heart skipped when her own screen lit up with an internal notice.
She clicked.
Executive Office Update
Effective immediately, Miss Aria Vale will serve as Personal Assistant to the CEO.
Silence.
Then a low wave of whispers.
"What?"
"He doesn't have a PA."
"Since when?"
Aria felt the shift instantly.
People weren't staring rudely.
But they were looking.
Curious.
Trying to piece something together.
Clara turned to her slowly.
"You're… what?"
"I just found out too," Aria admitted softly.
And that was true.
A man from across the aisle leaned back in his chair. "The boss has never had a personal assistant."
"Not in the seven years I've been here," another added.
Seven years.
Aria's chest tightened slightly.
Seven years of working alone.
Why change that now?
Someone else muttered, "Maybe she'll finally see his face."
A few people chuckled lightly.
But the curiosity in the room deepened.
Aria's stomach twisted.
She had seen his face.
Twice.
The knowledge sat heavy in her chest like a secret she didn't know what to do with.
Clara leaned closer. "Have you met him already?"
Aria hesitated.
Just for a second.
Clara's eyebrows lifted.
"That's interesting," she murmured.
Interesting.
That was one word for it.
Her tablet vibrated again.
A direct message.
Executive Office:
Please report at 4:30 PM.
Her throat went dry.
She checked the time.
4:18.
The room no longer felt neutral.
It felt aware.
Like she had been quietly moved to a different level of the company hierarchy in a single afternoon.
And she didn't know whether to feel lucky… or singled out.
At 4:29, she stood.
Clara gave her a small, almost sympathetic smile. "Good luck."
Luck.
She wasn't sure that was what she needed.
The elevator at the end of the floor opened.
He stepped out.
Mask on.
Black suit.
Composed.
The noise in the department softened, not out of fear, but respect. Presence did that. Some people carried it naturally.
He walked directly toward her.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Intentional.
He stopped a comfortable distance away.
"Miss Vale."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried.
"Yes, sir."
"Come."
No threat. No sharpness. Just expectation.
She followed him toward the elevator.
She could feel eyes on her back, but not maliciously.
Interested.
Curious.
She was curious too.
Inside the elevator, the doors slid shut.
The space felt smaller than it had earlier.
She was acutely aware of him beside her.
Not looming.
Just there.
Her heartbeat was annoyingly loud in her ears.
He pressed the executive floor button.
Silence stretched between them.
She found herself staring at the faint reflection in the elevator wall.
The mask.
The sharp line of his jaw visible above it.
And then her thoughts crept in again.
You're imagining things.
Maybe you misremembered that first night.
Maybe stress made everything feel worse than it was.
She swallowed.
The elevator hummed upward.
Then suddenly...
A flicker.
The lights blinked once.
Twice.
The elevator jolted lightly before stopping.
Her stomach dropped.
"Oh," she breathed.
The overhead lights dimmed but didn't go out completely.
Emergency power.
She instinctively reached for balance and felt fingers close around her wrist.
Not tight.
Not aggressive.
Steady.
"Careful," he said quietly.
His voice sounded different in the confined space.
Closer.
More human.
She slowly lifted her eyes to him.
He was already looking at her.
Even behind the mask, she could feel it.
The elevator remained still.
Just the faint hum of backup power.
Her pulse raced — not because of him.
Because she hated small spaces.
Because she hated losing control.
Because everything lately felt like it was happening around her, not with her.
"I don't like elevators," she admitted before she could stop herself.
There was a brief pause.
Then—
"Neither do I," he replied.
That wasn't what she expected.
For the first time since she'd met him, he didn't feel like a looming mystery.
He felt… present.
Real.
The elevator jerked again slightly.
Her fingers tightened unconsciously around his sleeve.
And for one quiet second, she wondered—
Was she afraid of him?
Or was she afraid of how much she didn't understand?
The emergency system beeped softly.
The elevator started moving again.
And as the lights stabilized, she realized something unsettling.
His hand was still around her wrist.
And he hadn't let go.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
Aria immediately stepped forward, pretending she hadn't just been clinging to his sleeve two seconds ago.
Professional. Be professional.
He walked ahead of her, calm as ever, like elevators didn't randomly pause and cause minor heart attacks.
His office door opened automatically.
She stepped in again — same wide windows, same quiet luxury, same overwhelming stillness.
Except this time, she wasn't frozen in fear.
She was confused.
He walked behind his desk and removed his gloves slowly, placing them neatly beside the mask he still wore.
She stayed standing.
Waiting.
He didn't say anything.
He simply opened a file on his desk.
Papers.
Digital tablet.
Silence.
Aria cleared her throat softly.
"Sir?"
He didn't look up. "Yes."
"You said I should report tomorrow by nine."
"I did."
"…It's four forty-eight."
A pause.
"I am aware."
She blinked.
"Then… why did you call for me?"
Now he looked up.
Those grey eyes studied her in a way that made her suddenly hyper-aware of how she was standing. Too stiff? Too casual? Was her hair messy? Did she look like someone who had been publicly mistaken for a celebrity's girlfriend three hours ago?
"You were already in the building," he said calmly.
Her brain stalled.
"That's… the reason?"
"Yes."
She stared at him.
He stared back.
The silence stretched long enough to become ridiculous.
"Sir," she said carefully, "with all due respect… I was in the building because I work here."
One corner of his mouth twitched.
Not a full smile.
But dangerously close.
"I am aware of that as well."
She wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or irritated.
"Then what exactly did you need me for?"
He leaned back slightly in his chair.
"To observe."
Her stomach flipped.
"Observe… what?"
"You."
She froze.
"That sounds illegal," she muttered before she could stop herself.
This time, he did smile.
Small. Brief. But undeniably real.
"If I intended to do anything illegal, Miss Vale, I would not announce it."
Her face burned slightly.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"I know."
The room fell quiet again, but the tension felt different now.
Less suffocating.
More… strange.
He tapped a finger lightly against the desk.
"You will be my personal assistant," he said. "Which means you will need to understand my schedule, my expectations, and how I work."
She nodded slowly.
"That makes sense."
"I do not tolerate inefficiency."
Her shoulders straightened instinctively. "I'm not inefficient."
"I did not say you were."
She hesitated.
"…You implied it."
He looked almost amused.
"You argue often."
Her jaw dropped slightly. "I do not."
"You just did."
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"…That was clarification."
Silence.
Then —
A quiet exhale that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter.
Was he laughing?
At her?
Her brain short-circuited for a second.
The terrifying CEO of Obsidian Holdings was… entertained?
He reached for a tablet and slid it across the desk toward her.
"This is my schedule for tomorrow. Review it tonight."
She stepped forward to take it.
As she did, she noticed something.
There were no unnecessary meetings.
No random social appointments.
No lunches with investors.
Just precise blocks of time.
Work.
Strategy.
Private review.
Work.
"You don't take breaks?" she asked without thinking.
He met her eyes.
"Breaks are inefficient."
"That sounds unhealthy."
Silence.
Then...
"You may schedule one," he said evenly.
Her brows furrowed. "For you?"
"Yes."
She stared at him.
"You're giving your intern the authority to force you to rest?"
"I am delegating responsibility."
"That's not the same thing."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"Are you declining?"
Her heart jumped.
"No."
"…Good."
She exhaled.
Why did every conversation with him feel like walking on a thin wire?
She shifted her weight awkwardly.
"So… that's all?"
"For now."
Another pause.
She hesitated near the door.
Then turned back slightly.
"Sir?"
"Yes."
"You said the no-public-relationship rule was made for me."
His expression didn't change.
"It was. You are the only one."
"Is that… because of company image?"
A small beat of silence.
Then...
"Yes."
She studied him for half a second.
It felt like there was more behind that answer.
But she couldn't prove it.
And honestly—
She wasn't sure she wanted to.
"Understood," she said softly.
He nodded once.
"You may leave."
She walked toward the door.
Hand on the handle.
And then...
"Miss Vale."
She froze.
Slowly turned back.
"Yes?"
His eyes were steady.
"Do not be late tomorrow."
A small, almost playful part of her surfaced before fear could swallow it.
"I won't be."
A beat.
"And if the elevator breaks again," she added lightly, "I expect hazard pay."
The silence that followed was dangerous.
Then—
That almost-smile again.
"Get out."
She did.
And as the door closed behind her, her heart was beating for reasons she couldn't fully explain.
Because somewhere between fear, confusion, and public scandal…
She had just argued with the most untouchable man in the building.
And survived.
Maybe even—
Enjoyed it.