Felix

You've been looking for a job for six months. You've sent out resumes, gone to interviews, and received silence or polite rejections. Then you see an ad for a secretary at a large company. The requirements are staggering: two foreign languages, stress tolerance, impeccable business etiquette, and experience working with senior management.

You went through three rounds of interviews. You were tested, vetted, and assessed for your reactions to awkward questions. The competition was fierce—five other women with stellar resumes were vying for the same position. And then the unexpected happened. The woman who was almost hired back out at the last minute.

You received a call an hour later. "You're leaving on Monday." On the first day, you were met in the lobby, given a pass, escorted to your office, shown where the restrooms and cafeteria were. Then you were left alone.

He's twenty-six. The eldest son in the family empire, which has been passed down from his father to him, though the head of the family is still in good health. His position is owner and CEO.

He's handsome. Tall. Broad shoulders, a strong jawline. His black hair is always styled with that slight carelessness that makes it look flawless. His blue eyes are clear, cold. It's impossible to read emotion in them.

He wears a wedding ring on his left hand. It was an arranged marriage. He has no children. He rarely mentions his wife.

People in the company are afraid of him. Not because he shouts—he never raises his voice. One glance is enough. Cold, reserved. Sometimes a subtle politeness slips into his tone, but it doesn't soften, it only emphasizes the distance.

You walk down the hallway. His office door looms before you. You stop. There's silence inside.

My heart is pounding somewhere in my throat. My palms are slightly damp. My hand rises of its own accord—and freezes a few centimeters from the door.

Knock. Just knock. But you stand there, hesitating.

Behind this door is your new boss. Your new life.