[ALESSIA POV]
The Hartman Industries file landed on my desk at 9:00 AM sharp.
It was massive thick as a phone book, stuffed with order histories, delivery schedules, and correspondence going back three years. A sticky note on top read: "Review by Friday. Meeting prep due EOD. —FW"
FW. Fernandes Woods.
My new reality: working directly for the CEO on a $2 million account.
No pressure.
I flipped open the file and started reading. Hartman Industries manufactured industrial equipment—pumps, valves, hydraulic systems. Big orders, tight deadlines, zero tolerance for delays. Every email from their procurement manager, Gerald Hartman, was terse and demanding.
"Shipment delayed again. This is unacceptable."
"Need revised timeline by COB or we're exploring other vendors."
"Your team's incompetence is costing us money."
No wonder they wanted a dedicated account manager.
I spent the morning buried in spreadsheets, flagging patterns. Late deliveries clustered around certain suppliers. Communication gaps between our warehouse and their receiving department. A pricing discrepancy that had been going on for six months without anyone noticing.
By lunch, I had a list of problems and potential solutions.
My phone buzzed.
Fernandes Woods: Conference room 3. Now.
I grabbed my notes and laptop and headed upstairs.
He was already there when I arrived, standing at the window with his phone to his ear.
"I don't care what the supplier says. Find another one." His voice was cold, controlled. "I want options by tomorrow morning."
He ended the call and turned to me. "Sit."
I sat, spreading my notes on the table.
He took the seat across from me not at the head of the table where most executives would sit, but directly across. Eye level.
"What did you find?"
I walked him through it. The delivery delays. The communication breakdowns. The pricing error that had been costing Hartman thousands.
He listened without interrupting, his dark eyes fixed on me.
When I finished, he leaned back. "Solutions?"
"Switch to Vendor B for the hydraulic components—they have a better track record. Implement a shared tracking system so both teams can see shipment status in real time. And issue a credit for the pricing discrepancy with a formal apology."
"How much will the credit cost us?"
"About fifteen thousand. But losing the account would cost us $2 million."
His lips curved slightly. Not quite a smile, but close. "Good. Draft the proposal. I want it ready by Thursday."
"Yes, sir."
I started gathering my notes, but his voice stopped me.
"One more thing. Friday's meeting is at their headquarters. It's a two-hour drive, so we'll leave at 7:00 AM. Be ready."
My pulse quickened. Two hours in a car. Just the two of us.
"Yes, sir."
"Dress professionally. Hartman is old-school and Conservative. He'll be judging you the moment you walk in."
"Understood."
He stood, and I did the same.
For a moment, we just looked at each other across the table.
"You're doing well, Ms. Davison." His voice was quieter now. "Better than I expected."
Heat crept up my neck. "Thank you, sir."
He held my gaze for one beat longer than necessary, then walked out.
I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding.
Better than he expected.
I spent the rest of the week living in that conference room.
Draft proposals, Revise, Research, and Refine.
By Thursday evening, I had a presentation that I was actually proud of: professional, thorough, and focused on solutions instead of excuses.
I emailed it to Fernandes at 6:47 PM and sat back, exhausted.
My phone rang thirty seconds later.
"Ms. Davison." His voice sent a shiver down my spine. "I just reviewed your proposal."
My stomach tightened. "And?"
"It's good. Very good."
I exhaled. "Thank you, sir."
"Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
"Yes, sir."
There was a pause. I could hear him breathing on the other end.
"Alessia?"
My breath caught. He'd never used my first name before.
"Yes?"
"You've earned this. Remember that."
The line went dead.
I sat there staring at my phone, his words echoing in my head.
You've earned this.
Not because of gossip or favors or anything else people were whispering about.
Because I'd worked for it.
That night, I barely slept.
I kept replaying every interaction with Fernandes. The way he looked at me across the conference table. The way he'd said my name on the phone.
The way my heart raced every time he was near.
This was dangerous. Stupid. He was my boss. The CEO. This couldn't go anywhere.
But God, the way he looked at me...
I rolled over and checked my phone.
2:47 AM.
I had to be ready in four hours.
I forced my eyes closed and tried to think about the presentation. The meeting. Anything except Fernandes Woods.
But when I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of dark eyes and the sound of my name in his voice.
My alarm went off at 6:00 AM.
I jumped in the shower, dried my hair, and stared at my closet.
Dress professionally and conservative.
I chose a navy suit tailored, understated, with a white blouse underneath. Simple jewelry. Low heels.
I looked... competent and professional.
Exactly what I needed to be.
My phone buzzed at 6:52 AM.
Fernandes Woods: Downstairs, Black sedan.
My stomach flipped.
I grabbed my bag and the printed presentation materials and headed down.
The black sedan was idling at the curb, sleek and expensive. The driver stood by the back door, but Fernandes was already inside.
I slid in beside him.
He looked up from his phone, his eyes sweeping over me once. Quick, but thorough.
"Ready?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." He went back to his phone as the car pulled away from the curb.
Two hours. Just the two of us.
This was going to be the longest drive of my life.