I got there at 7:58 a.m.
Not because I wanted to impress him.
But because I refused to give him the satisfaction of thinking I couldn't keep up.
The building looked different in the morning—calmer, quieter… almost harmless.
Almost.
"Good morning, Miss Adebayo."
I nodded at the receptionist, forcing a small smile. "Morning."
"Top floor," she added knowingly.
Of course.
I didn't need directions anymore.
By 8:00 a.m. exactly, I was standing in front of his office.
Two knocks.
"Come in."
Same voice.
Same effect.
I stepped in—and this time, I didn't hesitate.
Didn't pause.
Didn't let myself feel.
"I'm here," I said simply.
His eyes lifted from the document in his hand, settling on me like he'd been expecting nothing less.
Of course he had.
"You're late."
My brows furrowed. "It's 8:00."
"You were expected at 7:45."
I blinked.
Excuse me?
"That wasn't stated anywhere."
"It didn't need to be."
I let out a short laugh. "So now you make up rules as you go?"
His gaze held mine. "No. I expect initiative."
I stepped closer to the desk, dropping my bag on the chair without breaking eye contact.
"Well then," I said, "next time, try communication. It works better."
Silence.
Brief.
Tense.
Then—
"Noted."
I almost smiled.
Almost.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
I didn't move.
"I'm not here for another interview."
"You're not," he replied. "You're here for instructions."
That word again.
Control.
I sat anyway.
Not because he told me to—
but because I needed to prove I could handle this.
Handle him.
"Your role is simple," he continued. "You manage my schedule, filter my meetings, and make sure nothing wastes my time."
I raised a brow. "Nothing?"
His gaze flicked up. "Nothing."
"Noted."
Something about that seemed to register.
A small shift in his expression.
Like he knew I wasn't just repeating his words—I was challenging them.
Good.
"First task," he said, sliding a file across the desk toward me. "We have a meeting in thirty minutes. You'll be attending."
I glanced at the file. "As your assistant?"
"As someone who listens," he corrected. "And learns."
I picked it up, flipping it open quickly. My eyes scanned the contents—numbers, proposals, contracts.
Serious.
Important.
"Why me?" I asked suddenly.
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
His pen stilled.
"For this role," I added quickly. "You could have chosen anyone."
His gaze lifted slowly.
And for a moment…
It felt like he was seeing more than just what was in front of him.
"Because," he said quietly, "you're not afraid of me."
I blinked.
That… wasn't what I expected.
"Maybe I just don't respect you," I shot back.
There it was.
The hit.
Sharp.
Intentional.
But instead of reacting, instead of snapping back like I thought he would—
He leaned back slightly.
Studying me.
"Respect," he murmured, "can be built."
I scoffed. "Not with me."
"We'll see."
The meeting room was colder than I expected.
Or maybe it just felt that way because of the tension sitting beside me.
He didn't look at me once as we walked in.
Didn't acknowledge me as we took our seats.
To everyone else, I was just another employee.
Invisible.
Good.
I preferred it that way.
Until—
"Sir, is this the assistant you mentioned?"
My head snapped up.
The room went quiet.
I turned slowly to look at him.
He didn't even hesitate.
"Yes."
That was it.
One word.
But it carried weight.
Attention shifted.
Eyes on me.
Judging.
Measuring.
Whispering without speaking.
And just like that—
I was back there.
That night.
Those same looks.
Those same silent accusations.
That same feeling of being exposed—
Humiliated.
My grip tightened on the pen in my hand.
Not again.
Not this time.
"Miss Adebayo?"
I didn't realize I'd zoned out until the voice pulled me back.
I looked up.
Everyone was watching.
Waiting.
For what?
"For your input," someone added.
Input?
I turned to him sharply.
He finally looked at me.
Calm.
Unreadable.
Like he hadn't just thrown me into the spotlight without warning.
Like this wasn't intentional.
My heart pounded.
Fast.
Loud.
But I refused to break.
Not here.
Not in front of him.
I straightened slightly, flipping through the file once more—faster this time, sharper.
Then I spoke.
Clear.
Steady.
Confident.
"If we go ahead with this proposal as it is," I said, "you'll lose more than you gain."
Silence.
Immediate.
Heavy.
Good.
I had their attention.
"The numbers look good on paper," I continued, "but the long-term risks outweigh the short-term profit. You're ignoring the instability in the second quarter projections."
A pause.
Then murmurs.
Soft.
Interested.
Impressed.
I didn't look at him.
I didn't need to.
Because I could feel it.
That shift.
That moment where something changed.
The meeting ended differently than it started.
They listened.
They adjusted.
They respected.
And when we walked out—
The silence between us felt… different.
Not lighter.
No.
Heavier.
But not the same.
"You did well."
I stopped.
Turned.
Because that?
That caught me off guard.
"You don't have to pretend," I said.
"I don't."
Our eyes met.
And for the first time since I walked into his life again—
There was no mockery.
No cold dismissal.
Just something quiet.
Something real.
And that scared me more than anything else.
"Why did you do that?"
The question came out softer than I intended.
He knew what I meant.
He always did.
"Do what?"
"Put me on the spot like that."
A pause.
Then—
"To see if you'd break."
My chest tightened.
"And if I did?"
His gaze held mine.
"You didn't."
That wasn't an answer.
Not really.
But it was enough.
For now.
As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me one more time.
"Tonight," he said.
I glanced back.
"There's an event. You'll be attending with me."
I frowned. "That's not in my job description."
"It is now."
Of course it was.
I exhaled sharply. "What kind of event?"
His expression didn't change.
But his next words did something to my chest.
Something unexpected.
"Where everything started."
My heart skipped.
Once.
Then twice.
"No," I said immediately.
Too fast.
Too firm.
Too revealing.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
And just like that—
The past wasn't just behind us anymore.
It was coming back.