Ava stood in front of the tall glass doors of Blackwell Innovations, clutching her ID badge like a lifeline. The building looked even more intimidating in the early morning light—sleek, powerful, expensive. Everything about it screamed excellence… and pressure.
She inhaled deeply.
Day two. Don't mess this up.
When she stepped inside, the lobby buzzed with activity—heels clicking, phones ringing, employees swiping in with speed and confidence. Ava moved through the crowd, still feeling like an imposter in a world where everyone seemed to know exactly where they belonged.
She definitely didn't feel that way.
Not when her boss—Alexander Blackwell—looked at her as if she were a mistake he was forced to tolerate.
And definitely not after how yesterday ended, with him dismissing her like she was nothing but an interruption.
Still, she wasn't quitting. She didn't climb her way into one of the biggest tech companies in the country just to give up because her boss was emotionally unavailable and allergic to warmth.
The elevator opened onto the executive floor. Everything was quiet—too quiet. The hallway lights hummed softly, and the scent of coffee drifted from somewhere down the hall. Ava rounded the corner toward Alexander's office…
…and froze.
Because he was already there.
Standing beside her desk.
Waiting.
His fitted charcoal suit looked like it had been handcrafted by angels. His sleeves were rolled up just slightly, revealing forearms that somehow made him look even more dangerous. His expression was unreadable—cold, sharp, observing her like she was a data point he needed to evaluate.
"You're late," he said.
Her heart jumped. "It's—It's 7:52. I thought I wasn't required to be here until—"
"You work on my floor," he cut in. "My assistants arrive before I do."
"But you're early today," she pointed out before her brain could stop her.
He raised one eyebrow.
Ava instantly regretted existing.
A long moment stretched between them. Then he reached for a file on the desk and handed it to her.
"Your first assignment," he said. "Let's see if hiring you wasn't a mistake."
Her stomach sank. She took the file and opened it carefully.
Inside was a stack of documents—financial reports, project timelines, investor communication drafts, product summaries, and detailed notes scribbled in a handwriting that was aggressive enough to qualify as a crime.
"I want this reorganized, corrected, and summarized into a two-page brief," Alexander said. "I need the brief ready before the board meeting at noon."
Ava blinked. "This is… this is a lot for a morning assignment."
"That's why it's a test," he replied simply.
Her chest tightened. "Okay. I'll do my best."
"I don't want your best," he said. "I want perfection."
Her throat went dry.
He started walking toward his office, but halfway there, he stopped. Without turning around, he added:
"And Ava?"
"Yes?"
"The previous assistant did this in under three hours. Try not to disappoint."
The words hit her harder than any insult.
Not because he said them.
But because he genuinely meant them.
As if disappointment was the most natural thing he expected from her.
As if she was destined to fail.
A spark lit in her chest—determination mixed with frustration. He didn't know her. He didn't know the storms she had survived just to get here. She refused to let him decide her worth.
She sat down at her desk, cracked her knuckles, and opened the file completely.
Okay, Ava. Let's show Mr. Ice Cube that he underestimated the wrong girl.
She began working—sorting, analyzing, reorganizing. The numbers made sense, the timeline needed repair, and a huge portion of the investor communication drafts were outdated. She typed quickly, focused, ignoring the anxious hammer of her heart.
Every few minutes, Alexander would step out of his office to check on something—or rather, to check on her. He never said anything, simply looked at her screen with those piercing gray eyes, expression unreadable, then walked away.
It was unnerving.
But she refused to let him break her concentration.
Hours passed. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. She double-checked everything.
And when she was finally done, the brief was clean. Clear. Strong.
She printed it, feeling a tremor of triumph.
The moment she approached Alexander's office, he glanced up from his laptop.
"Come in."
She stepped inside and handed him the paper. He took it without a word.
Silence thickened as he read the first page.
Then the second.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't blink.
Ava waited, hands clasped, nerves crawling under her skin.
Finally, he placed the papers on the desk and leaned back in his chair.
"This is…" He paused.
Her heart dropped to her stomach.
"…acceptable."
Ava almost burst out laughing. Acceptable was probably the highest form of praise he had ever given a living being.
But then his eyes lifted to hers.
"And better than I expected."
Her breath caught.
It wasn't warmth. It wasn't praise. But it was something.
Something she hadn't expected from him on day two.
Before she could say anything, he added with that same cool tone:
"Don't let it get to your head. You still have a long way to go."
She nodded. "Understood."
He dismissed her with a small gesture. And as she returned to her desk, she allowed herself the tiniest smile.
Because cold or not…
Demanding or not…
Alexander Blackwell had just underestimated her.
And she planned to make sure he never did again.
Ava sat back down at her desk, her mind still spinning from what had just happened. Acceptable. Better than expected. Coming from Alexander Blackwell, that was practically a standing ovation. She allowed herself a moment—just one small moment—to breathe in the quiet satisfaction.
Then she straightened her shoulders.
The day wasn't over.
Emails flooded in faster than she could open them. Requests from other departments. Calendar adjustments. Follow-ups from clients who apparently wanted immediate answers. She dove into the work, determined not to fall behind.
But her peace didn't last.
At exactly 1:06 PM, Alexander stepped out of his office again.
"Ava."
She looked up. "Yes, sir?"
He frowned slightly at the "sir" but didn't address it.
"I need you to accompany me to the product development meeting on the twelfth floor," he said. "Bring your notebook. And don't speak unless I ask you to."
Her brow furrowed. "You want me to attend a meeting with you?"
"I would not have said it otherwise."
Ouch. "Right."
She grabbed her things and followed him to the elevator, walking two respectful steps behind. He didn't look back, didn't slow down, didn't acknowledge her presence at all. He just moved with an air of command that made people step aside without him saying a word.
In the elevator, they stood in firm silence.
He typed something quickly on his phone, and Ava tried her best not to sneak glances. But it was almost impossible not to. His jaw was sharp, his cheekbones defined, his suit immaculate. Even under the neutral lighting, he looked almost unreal.
Cold.
Untouchable.
But undeniably powerful.
The elevator doors opened, and Alexander strided out—Ava trailing behind—into a sleek floor marked by bright glass and modern white workspaces. A group of executives stood waiting outside the conference room.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Blackwell," they said in near-perfect unison.
He gave a curt nod.
Ava felt the shift in the room immediately. When he walked in, the atmosphere tightened—people straightened up, lowered their voices, focused harder. He had that effect. Presence without trying.
Inside the conference room, Ava took a seat against the wall, her notebook open.
The meeting began.
It was intense.
Executives presented updates. Engineers argued about timelines. Designers pitched concepts. Numbers, projections, prototypes—they threw everything on the table.
And Alexander… he ruled the room without raising his voice once.
When he questioned someone, they scrambled.
When he raised a brow, someone corrected themselves.
When he said "No," the argument ended.
Ava found herself studying him—his precision, his control, the way his brain seemed several steps ahead of everyone else. It wasn't just that he was cold. He was brilliant. Sharp enough to cut through excuses and hesitation.
And intimidating enough that no one dared push back.
Halfway through the meeting, he suddenly looked toward her.
"Ava," he said, voice quiet but commanding. "Your notes."
Her heart jumped to her throat. "Yes—yes."
She stood and walked to him, handing over the notepad. He scanned it with quick eyes.
Every point neatly summarized. Every action item listed. Every deadline marked.
He looked at her for a moment—longer than before. Something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.
Then he nodded once and continued the meeting.
Ava returned to her seat, pulse racing.
She didn't know it, but several executives glanced her way with mild surprise. Alexander had never asked an assistant to provide notes mid-meeting since… well, ever.
By the time the meeting ended an hour later, Ava felt like her brain had run a marathon.
Alexander walked out without a word, and she followed him to the elevator again. The silence was different this time—altered, charged somehow.
When the doors closed, he spoke without looking at her.
"You're efficient."
Ava blinked. "Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
Of course it wasn't.
"It was an observation," he added. "Efficiency is expected in this position."
"Understood," she replied, though a tiny smile tugged at her lips anyway.
Then he finally turned his head slightly, enough to catch her in his peripheral vision.
"And your note-taking skills are adequate."
Ava bit her cheek to stop from laughing.
Coming from him… adequate meant she was practically a prodigy.
The elevator opened back onto the executive floor, and they walked until they reached her desk. She set down her notebook and prepared to sit—
But Alexander stopped in front of her, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
"Tomorrow," he said, "be here by seven."
Seven. As in 7:00 AM. Earlier than today.
She straightened. "I'll be here."
He gave the faintest nod—barely noticeable—then entered his office and closed the door behind him.
Ava let out a deep breath, sinking into her chair.
She had survived her first real test.
And strangely… she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted.
Not much.
Just a fraction.
But enough to make her wonder if the ice around Alexander Blackwell had cracked—just slightly.
Enough to let her in.
At least, enough to make him notice she existed.
And for now…
That was enough.