### CHAPTER SIX **CHLOE** As the door clicks shut behind Roman, my body follows suit, sagging in a wave of defeat. But in a heartbeat, the icy fingers of panic grip me. What had I been thinking? Why had I declared that I would prove myself? After all, it’s only my first day, and I barely know my way around this new digital landscape, let alone how to impress someone like Roman King. "Um," Sophie stammers, her wide eyes reflecting her concern. "I’m really sorry about that. I don’t know why he—" She shakes her head, frustration etched onto her features. “What do you want to do now?” Biting my lip, I scan the cluttered expanse of my new workspace, desperate for a spark of inspiration. Yet, nothing jumps out at me. How on earth am I meant to impress a man of such caliber? The truth is blunt: I've never operated at his level before, and the software and tools here must be worlds apart from those I was accustomed to at Talon. “Can you help me?” I turn to Sophie, hope flickering in my chest. Her response is immediate and enthusiastic. “Of course! What do you need?” “Let’s start with the basics. Can you show me how the scheduling app works and where I can find the project files?” Together, we circle around my desk. Sophie diligently walks me through the essential applications and explains Lena's system. With every word she shares, I jot down notes on a notepad I’ve unearthed from a drawer, fashioning a makeshift reference guide for myself. My mind races as I glimpse Roman’s calendar. It’s a chaotic sea of appointments, brimming with meetings and deadlines. One entry stands out like a beacon—a red-flagged meeting scheduled for later this morning. He’s set to brief his executive team about a company named EcoTech. “Where can I find the files related to this company?” I ask, my finger pointing at the calendar. “They should be in here,” Sophie replies, leading me to a filing cabinet against the wall. She flicks through a series of folders before finally producing one and handing it over to me. I flip through it as I return to my desk, disappointment washing over me. The details blur, and time is slipping away. Yet, I can’t ignore the fleeting familiarity of some terms from my days at Talon. “Where are the latest market reports?” I interject, chasing clarity. “They’re usually stored in the shared drive, within the Analytics folder. Here.” Sophie gestures toward the screen. As she withdraws her hand, a flicker of regret crosses her face. “I’m really sorry to leave you like this, but I need to get back to my desk. Is there anything else you need before I go?” I force a smile, even as a part of me desperately wants to grab her and plead for her presence. “Thanks. I think I’ve got it covered. I’ll do my best and hope it’s enough.” “I hope so too! It’d be nice having you around. If you have more questions, here’s my extension.” She scribbles a number on my notepad, sliding it across the desk. “I can walk you through anything or come back if you need help.” With that, she flashes me a grin and glides down the hallway. “Oh!” She stops and spins on her heel. “If you find some free time around lunch, come find me. I’ll show you to the employee cafeteria.” The warmth that spreads through me is almost unexpected. “That would be wonderful. Thank you,” I reply, grateful. With that spark of encouragement fueling my resolve, I dive back into work, poring over the EcoTech file. I rummage through my desk until I find a pack of sticky notes, using them to highlight crucial details I anticipate Roman might need for his meeting. Feeling somewhat more prepared, I explore the CRM software designed to monitor project statuses and stakeholder interactions. I scribble more notes, comparing the contents with recent emails and spotting updates that need to be incorporated into the file. With my self-doubt gnawing at the edges of my mind, I decide to brief him on these updates as a starting point. As the meeting time draws nearer, I take a deep, steadying breath, grab the file, and clutch my new tablet as I make my way to his office. My knock is met with a curt “Come in.” I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at his brusque tone. If I survived the torment of Leering Geoff for six long months, I can certainly handle Grumpy Roman. First, of course, I need to ensure I don’t get fired. I push the door open and step into what is nothing short of a majestic corner office, filled with dark wood and understated elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame an awe-inspiring cityscape, one that would be the envy of any painter—including my dad. For a heartbeat, I’m captivated by the view, but I quickly redirect my attention to Roman. He leans back in his chair, his intense gray eyes tracking my every move, sending a jolt of electricity through me. My pulse quickens—an involuntary reaction, but so very real. He’s intimidating in a way I’ve rarely encountered. My dad is the warm, loving type—often absent, and a bit cranky these days—but never someone to instill fear. Geoff Sr. earned my respect; he was always fair to his staff. But his son? I couldn’t muster a shred of respect for him. And yet, neither could I ever call him intimidating. Roman is on a whole different level, with an effortless authority that sends shivers down my spine. The way he scrutinizes me feels as though he can see straight through to my thoughts, while his own remain guarded. There’s no way I’ll allow him to see how he affects me. Not after his cutting remarks earlier. I clear my throat, summoning every ounce of professionalism I can muster. “Mr. King, I’ve prepared the file for this morning’s meeting. It highlights key points regarding potential market impacts from the latest reports, as well as essential updates you might find relevant.” Roman makes no move to take the file, leaving me to extend it towards him. To my relief, he finally accepts it, taking it from my hand instead of letting it dangle awkwardly in midair. As he flicks through the pages, his expression remains inscrutable, and I do my best to keep from fidgeting. I glance wistfully at the leather chairs in front of his desk, wishing I had thought to sit down before launching into my report. After a tense moment, he drops the file onto his desk and regards me, his eyes narrowing slightly as he rubs his thumb across his lower lip. “Not bad, Miss Callahan.” His measured tone carries a reluctant edge, a backhanded compliment that leaves me puzzled. I swallow my irritation. What on earth is his issue with me? I can understand if my age catches him off guard, but with three years of experience and a solid reference under my belt, it shouldn’t matter. Still, I refuse to back down. This opportunity, along with the paycheck that comes with it, is far too precious to forfeit just because my boss may have issues with me. “Is there anything else you need before your meeting?” I keep my voice steady, working hard to mask my rising frustration. He glances down at the file and then back at me. “No, I’ll review this in more detail prior to the meeting.” “Do you need me to sit in and take notes?” His expression hardens, and he tilts his head slightly, his gaze piercing as he picks up a pen and taps it against his polished desk. “Yes. Print out a dozen copies of the most recent market report and ensure the conference room on this floor is ready.” “Yes, sir.” The spark of satisfaction bubbling inside me is hard to suppress. His request, however simple, feels like a victory—I’m not being dismissed outright. As I nod, my lips pressed firmly together, I suppress the smile threatening to surface, determined to manage my excitement carefully. Based on his demeanor, an overly cheerful assistant isn’t exactly what he’s seeking. Once I exit his office, I hasten back to my desk and immediately print the report he requested. I dart to the executive conference room Sophie had pointed out earlier. Noticing a carafe of water and a dozen glasses waiting on the sideboard, I arrange them meticulously around the large table, placing a report in front of each seat. Swiftly, I make my way back to my desk, wanting to brush up on my notes one last time. I don't anticipate being directly questioned, but I want to be ready just in case. Minutes later, the heavy door swings open, and Roman strides out—his expression unreadable. Inexplicably, he’s left the file behind. Did he memorize it all, or was my input inadequate? A wave of dread washes over me, but I slap that unhelpful thought aside as I rise to my feet, smoothing my palms against my skirt. But as he glances back at me over his shoulder, I catch him saying, “Don’t forget your tablet.” This time, I can’t help but roll my eyes. Does he really think I’m that inept that he needs to remind me of such basic tasks? Tablet in hand, I follow his lead. The view from behind him is distracting—particularly the way his suit hugs his shoulders and how the dark strands of hair curl just slightly at the nape of his neck. How soft would that hair feel? I shake my head abruptly, chastising myself for such a stray thought. No more distractions, I declare mentally. This is the first and last time I’ll let inappropriate thoughts about my boss slip into my mind. Upon entering the conference room, a wave of seriousness fills the air. Several men and women are already seated around the table, scrutinizing the report I’d laid out. Roman takes his position at the head of the table, gesturing for me to sit in the empty chair just down from him. I comply, offering a polite smile to the man next to me, and place my tablet on the table, ready to take notes. Roman clears his throat, and every eye in the room pivots toward him. He scans the group, and for a fraction of a second, his gaze flits over me, sending another curious thrill down my spine before he continues. His expression remains a mask, unreadable and imposing. “Alright,” he begins, his voice steady and commanding. “Let’s begin.”