Page 2 of Saved By the CEO

I press the phone to my ear. “Hello?—”

Mr. Bennett starts talking right away.

“I need you to review the environmental report for the Laker project and send me the bullet points for tomorrow’s board meeting. Focus on costs and public opinion. They don’t actually care about the environment.”

There goes my night.

“Absolutely. Anything else?”

“Yes, you’re coming in early tomorrow. The meeting has been moved up, and we’ll need a room set up at eight.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Of course, sir. I’ll make sure the room is prepared for you.”

He hangs up. A minute later, my inbox pings, and I open the app to find ten ridiculously complicated coffee orders, all from different cafés. I flop onto the bed and scream into a pillow.

“Carly, wait up!”

I turn around and watch Josh from IT jog up to me. He’s holding something neon green in his right hand. “You forgot this in the cafeteria.”

I instinctively raise a hand to my neck and realize that yes, I absolutely forgot my ugly green lanyard in the cafeteria. The lanyard that holds my keycard. You know, the keycard I use to get into the CEO’s office. Mr. Bennett would fire me on the spot if he ever found out that I left a key to his office in the cafeteria.

My cheeks are on fire as I reach for the lanyard in his outstretched hand. Josh, the absolute rat, snatches it back. “Not so fast.”

“Josh, I need that back.”

He smiles at me. “You’ll get it in just a second.” He crosses his arms over his chest, which, to his credit, is fairly broad. “He’s really buried you in work lately, huh?”That’s anunderstatement.“You need a night out. You should come with us to the Fox on Friday, blow off some steam.”

“If I say that I’ll seriously consider it, can I have my lanyard back?”

He nods.

“I’ll seriously consider it.”

He hands me my lanyard. I hang it around my neck, where it belongs, and vow to never take it off again. Not even if it threatens to get in my soup. I just won’t eat soup. I’ll only have sandwiches for lunch from now on.

“Better head back before he sends out a search patrol,” he teases.

I thank him and head to the elevator, which takes me to the top floor.

The BenCo building is a gleaming high-rise, aptly named after the company that built it, which is also its current resident. The first time I stepped out of the elevator and saw the view from the top floor, I felt like I had made it. It was right before my interview with Mr. Bennett, and I remember thinking about what my mom had said when I told her about it.

“Just being invited to an interview at the top of BenCo is an accomplishment in itself. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

A minute later, I felt the building sway, making me a little queasy. I didn’t know it then, but it was a sign. A bad omen. The universe was telling me to go back into the elevator and look for another job. But I didn’t.

I nailed that interview, and now, three years later, here I am. Slaving away at a job I hate because I’ve gotten used to living in an apartment where you can trust the pipes. Rent is not cheap, and very few employers pay as well as Andrew Bennett.

My desk sits right outside his office door, which is always closed. Most offices have frosted glass doors or windows, a design choice meant to make the space feel airier. Not Mr.Bennett. His door is solid mahogany, and the only windows are those facing the outside.

I sit down at my desk and start going through my inbox. One of my duties as the assistant to the CEO is to go through his email and sort everything by urgency. It’s probably the only upside to the job, aside from the pay. Going through someone else’s emails feels like snooping. It’s especially fun when he’s recently been in the media for one reason or another, which is why I’m currently having a blast.

Yesterday, a picture of him was published alongside a story about BenCo’s latest project. Today, his inbox looks like a casting call forThe Bachelor.Men and women of all ages flock to his corporate email to shoot their shot. Some of the emails are the standard “I’m from X, I work in X, I like skiing,” but others get creative.

I’m in the middle of texting Annie an excerpt from one of the saucier ones when the dreaded ping from our internal chat system sounds, and a little blue box pops up in the corner of the screen.

Andrew Bennett: My office, now

I sigh and make my way to his door, knocking twice before stepping inside. His office is sleek and masculine: clean lines, minimal decor, and expensive-looking furniture. One wall is lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a breathtaking view of the city.