I take one final deep breath and then make my way through the glass doors, forcing myself to face my first day. Ten minutes early.
Can’t complain about that now. Can you, Adrian?
I step up to the reception desk, where a woman with perfect posture and scarlet lipstick looks up, completely unenthused by my existence.
“Madison Williams,” I say, not sounding nearly as confident as I’d like. “I’m starting today?—”
“New executive assistant. I know.” She gives a brisk nod, then checks her monitor. “Please take a seat. Mr. Frank will be with you shortly. He requested that you see him first before starting the day.”
Oh god, this is going to be fun. Or torturous.
I keep a smile on my face and nod, then sink into one of the chairs, which is apparently designed to punish tailbones. I clutch my bag and glance at my phone.
Riley:You’re going to KILL it. That pantsuit makes your ass look so good.
I heart the message, but don’t take the time to text her back. The last thing I need is for Adrian to walk out and see me on my phone. I slide my phone into my bag, and then balance the bag on my knees, hoping to hide the anxious bouncing.
But it only gets worse as the minutes tick by.
I read every word on the visitor Wi-Fi sign multiple times. I count the number of black tiles on the floor and get to 156 before I give up. And then I start to worry that the entire interview process was an elaborate prank, and that at any moment, someone will jump out from behind a planter and tell me it’s all a really mean joke.
But nope. Instead, the elevator dings, and Adrian fucking Frank steps out.
He is even more intimidating first thing in the morning. His suit is charcoal andobviouslytailored, and his dark hair is so precisely parted, I wonder how long it took him. His face has the perfect five o’clock shadow, and his chocolate eyes only take amoment to find mine. He laser focuses on me with a calculating look.
And it goes right to my lady bits, in the most embarrassing way.
“Ms. Williams,” he says, giving me a curt nod. “Glad to see you’re on time today.”
“Good morning.” I quickly stand to my feet and sling my bag over my shoulder. He gives me a once-over and then gestures for me to follow him.
He leads me toward the elevator, his stride so long I almost have to jog to keep up.“You didn’t have any problem finding the lobby this morning?” he deadpans as he smashes the upbutton.
“The lobby is… hard to miss.” I try for light, but it doesn’t land.
He doesn’t smile, but there’s a faint flicker of amusement in his eyes. “We like to make an impression. I think that’s important.”
The elevator ride is silent. The only sound is the soft whoosh of air and my heart trying to hammer its way through my ribcage. I look at the elevator’s mirrored doors and, for a split second, I don’t recognize myself.
I look composed, calm, and not at all like I’m about to have a panic attack, my brunette hair up in a nice, tight ponytail. I’m totally playing the part.
Well, in appearance, anyway.
When the doors open, I recognize where we are. The office is an open plan, but the partitions are glass, so you can see everything—andeveryone—at all times.
That’s one way to keep an eye on your people.
“Your desk is here,” he says, gesturing to a workspace tucked into a row near the partner offices. The desk is minimalist, a single monitor, keyboard, and one lone pen. I wonder whatwould happen if I wanted more pens. And are highlighters allowed?
I set my bag down in the white leather chair and turn to Adrian, who keeps talking.
“I’ll take you to HR now. They’ll collect all your paperwork and get whatever else they need from you.” He barely slows as we move through the maze of glass. He towers over everyone as he moves ahead of me, and it’s impossible to miss the reaction of other employees. At every corner, people see him coming and subtly adjust their posture.
“I’ll see you in a bit. Just do what Karen says,” Adrian instructs, dropping me off. He then vanishes, leaving behind the scent of his cologne and the vague sense that I have already disappointed him.
Story of my life.
Karen, the HR woman with a perpetual frown, goes through the remainder of the paperwork I haven’t finished with the enthusiasm of someone who sincerely hates her life. “Sign here, initial here. This is for tax. This is for insurance. This is for the NDA, which you shouldactuallyread.”
