Chapter 3 CHARLIE

Mondays were always rough. But this one? This one had it out for me.

My alarm screeched at 5:30 a.m., like it knew it was waking up a human marshmallow with anxiety issues. I slapped it off with more force than necessary and blinked at the ceiling, stomach already tight with nerves. Today was my first day. New job. New city. New chance not to screw things up, Yay.

I had carefully laid out my outfit the night before a soft navy-blue suit I'd bought on discount with a matching tie that Mia said made my hair "pop like a ginger god." I wasn't sure what that meant, but I took it as a compliment.

I showered, dressed, even managed to eat half a piece of toast before nerves made chewing feel like a chore. By 6:45, I was out the door, suitcase in hand, trying to convince myself I didn't look like a teenage intern who stole his dad's suit.

Getting to the train was easy enough. Getting on it? Not so much.

It was packed, of course. Shoulder to shoulder, sweaty strangers breathing directly into my personal space. I squeezed in beside a man who apparently hadn't taken his bath in weeks and held onto the rail like my life depended on it. Which, considering the way the train jerked and wheezed, maybe it did.

Then it happened.

Some guy with a coffee the size of a small child stumbled when the train lurched and splashed a good third of it onto my chest. Right on the new suit. Of course. I froze, staring down at the brown stain spreading across my shirt like a slow death.

"Oh, sorry man," the guy mumbled, completely unfazed.

I gave him a weak smile. "I-it's... f-fine."

It wasn't fine. My soul was actively trying to leave my body.

I tried to clean it with my hands, but all I did was smear it around and make it look like I'd lost a battle with a mocha monster.

When I finally got off the train, someone tripped over my suitcase as I dragged it off the platform, knocking it open and spilling the contents onto the concrete.

I wanted to die.

By the time I arrived at the sleek, glass-covered building that had a huge sign, HART'S CONSTRUCTION LTD, my nerves had tangled themselves into a solid knot in my gut. I clutched the handle of my half-damp suitcase like it was the only thing tethering me to this planet and stepped inside.

The lobby was cold. Not in temperature it was probably a comfortable , but in atmosphere. The receptionist was beautiful in that intimidating, bone-structure-for-days kind of way. Blonde bob. Bright red lipstick. Probably named something like Chloe-with-an-H.

She looked up from her computer, gave me a quick once-over, and immediately pressed something behind her eyes like she was turning down her "customer service" setting.

"Can I help you?" she asked, voice as sharp as her heels.

"Y-yes, um..." I cleared my throat. "M-my name's Ch-Charlie Bennett. I'm, uh... I'm supposed to s-start today. A-assistant to M-Mr. Alex Ford."

She blinked. Then looked me up and down again, slower this time. Her expression barely changed, but I felt the judgment radiating off her like Wi-Fi.

"Oh. You're that assistant."

"Y-yes?"

A long pause. "You'll need an elevator pass to access the top floor. I assume someone will... come get you."

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. I gave her a wobbly smile and took a seat on the farthest chair I could find.

I sat there in the reception area, feeling more out of place than I'd ever felt in my life. The receptionist had barely looked up from her phone when I entered, but now she gestured for me to take a seat.

"Just wait here," she said, her voice flat. "Someone will come to get you."

I nodded, trying not to fidget too much as I slumped into the chair. I could already feel the sweat gathering at the back of my neck. Not exactly the best first impression I was hoping for. I was still thinking about the train ride this morning let's just say things didn't go smoothly. But I couldn't focus on that now. I needed to pull it together.

A few minutes later, the sound of heels clicking against the polished floor caught my attention. I looked up, and there she was tall, sharp suit, professional, like someone who owned the place. She had an air about her, confident but not unfriendly.

"You must be Charlie," she said, offering a warm smile that didn't quite match the sternness in her eyes. "I'm Mrs. Harrison. Ella, actually. But everyone calls me Mrs. Harrison at work."

I jumped to my feet, almost knocking over the cup of water on the table in my rush. "Oh! Uh-sorry, I-"

She waved her hand dismissively, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "No need to apologize. First day jitters, I understand. You're going to be fine."

I felt my cheeks go hot, but I nodded, trying not to look like a total mess. "thanks".

"Ready for the tour?" she asked, already moving toward the elevator. I scrambled to follow her, barely managing to get my feet under me before I was walking behind her.

I nodded, forcing myself to breathe. "Yeah, sure. Lead the way."

She pressed the button for the elevator, and the doors slid open instantly. We stepped inside, and she hit the button .

"The cafeteria's downstairs," she said as the elevator hummed to life. "It's where everyone takes their breaks. You'll find it on the lower level along with a couple of meeting rooms. It's basic but gets the job done."

When we reached the basement, the doors opened to reveal a spacious, modern cafeteria with sleek tables, a coffee bar in the corner, and the sound of quiet chatter. A few employees were sitting at tables, eating lunch or typing on their laptops.

"Looks... nice," I muttered, glancing around. It was way fancier than the dingy break rooms I was used to back home.

"Yeah, it's a little nicer than most," she said, guiding me through the area. "You'll find all kinds of snacks in here, but don't get carried away. I've seen people with a snack stash taller than the coffee machine."

I chuckled awkwardly. "I'll try not to raid the place."

Ella gave me a quick smile, and then we were heading back into the elevator. This time, she pressed the button for the 10th floor.

"The 10th and 11th floors are where most of the administrative staff works," she explained. "Human resources, accounting, legal. All the behind-the-scenes stuff that keeps the projects running smoothly. Your floor, the 21st, is the executive floor. That's where Alex Ford's office is, where the CEO works, and where you'll be assisting Alex directly."

I tried to absorb everything she was saying, but my mind was still buzzing with the cafeteria and all the new information. "So... I'll mostly be on the 21st floor?"

"That's right," Ella said, nodding. "You'll be assisting Alex with scheduling, meetings, and whatever else comes up. You'll need to keep your phone on you at all times-he'll need you to be available. Don't worry, he's pretty easy-going. But he does like things done efficiently. So don't mess up."

I gulped. "I'll try my best."

We moved to the elevator again, this time heading straight for the 21st floor.

As we arrived, the doors opened to a sleek, polished hallway. The walls were adorned with abstract art, and there was a calm, professional atmosphere. It was a world apart from the hustle and bustle of the lower floors.

Ella led me down the hall, her heels clicking against the floor with each step. "Here we are. This is where Alex's office is, and where you'll be spending most of your time. Make yourself comfortable up here."

I nodded, taking in the high-end decor. It was exactly how I imagined a CEO's office would look open, airy, and luxurious, but not stuffy.

Ella reached into her bag and pulled out a sleek black card. "This will give you access to the 21st floor," she said, handing it over to me. "Only people working up here get one of these. Don't lose it."

I took the card, trying not to act like it was the most important thing I'd ever held. I slipped it into my pocket as she handed me another item my worker ID. She also gave me a file of documents, probably a bunch of HR stuff, and a few other things I would need to familiarize myself with.

"And here's your worker ID," she said, "and the documents you'll need for your first week. Make sure you go over everything. And one more thing " She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. "Let's exchange contacts. If you need anything, just call me."

I hesitated for a moment before typing in my number. "Thanks," I said. "I appreciate it."

"No problem," she said, tucking her phone back into her purse. "You're going to be fine, Charlie. I know first days are nerve-wracking, but you're in good hands. Alex is easy to work with, and Nathan... well, he's a little more Up intense, but you'll figure it out."

"Thanks," I said again, feeling a little more at ease. She didn't seem like someone who would waste time on me if she didn't think I had potential.

Ella gave me one last nod. "Alright, now go meet Alex. I'm sure he's waiting for you. Just remember, no matter how nervous you are, act like you know what you're doing. You'll get there."

I felt a little less like a deer caught in the headlights as I headed toward Alex's office. It didn't hurt that she had given me her number, just in case.

I paused outside the door with Alex Ford printed in silver lettering on the frosted glass. My palms were sweaty, my heart was somewhere between my throat and my stomach, and I was pretty sure I was about to throw up or pass out maybe both. I took a deep breath, wiped my hands against my pants, and knocked.

"Come in," came a calm voice from inside.

I pushed the door open, peeking in like a kid walking into the principal's office. But instead of some uptight suit behind the desk, I saw a man in his mid-thirties, sleeves rolled up, leaning back in his chair with a tablet in one hand and a half-empty coffee cup in the other. His brown hair was neatly styled, his shirt crisp, and there was an easy confidence about him that immediately made me feel a little less like a fraud.

"You must be Charlie," he said, setting the tablet down and standing up. "I'm Alex. Welcome."

"Hi uh, yes. I mean, yeah. I'm Charlie. Hello." Great start. Flawless.

He walked around the desk and offered his hand. "Relax, it's not an interview. Just a hello."

I shook his hand, surprised by the warm, firm grip. No judgment in his eyes, no sarcasm. Just calm. I liked that.

"Thanks," I mumbled. "It's... really nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Have a seat." He gestured to the chair across from his desk. "First day's always a little chaotic. Don't worry, you'll settle in."

I nodded and sat, gripping the folder of documents Ella had given me like it was a life raft.

"So," Alex said as he returned to his chair, "tell me a bit about yourself. Where'd you go to school?"

"Oh um, University of Illinois. I, uh, I did a three-year course there. In Business Administration." I cleared my throat. "Well, technically it was Business Management, but the curriculum covered both."

"Nice," he said, nodding. "You liked it?"

"I did. I mean yeah. It was good. I liked the organizational side of things. And spreadsheets. I really like spreadsheets."

Alex raised an amused brow. "A man after my own heart."

I let out a nervous laugh, relieved I hadn't completely embarrassed myself yet. "I figured I'd be the weird one who enjoyed data entry."

"Trust me," he said, grinning a little, "around here, we love people who love the boring stuff. Keeps the chaos from catching fire."

I relaxed a bit in my seat. His tone wasn't patronizing it was casual, like we were just talking over coffee instead of... whatever this was.

"So," he continued, "where do you see yourself in five years?"

The dreaded question.

I hesitated, then glanced down at the folder like it held the answer. "Um... I think I'd like to move up, maybe manage a team? Eventually. I'm still figuring it out, honestly. But I like structure, and I like helping things run smoothly."

Alex nodded slowly. "Fair answer. You don't have to have it all figured out yet. Just have a direction. That's enough."

"Thanks," I said, genuinely. "I was worried you'd expect a whole five-year master plan."

"Oh, I've heard some," he said, chuckling. "Most of them sound rehearsed and way too optimistic. You actually sound human."

I smiled, feeling a little warmth spread in my chest. Maybe I wasn't completely hopeless here.

Alex leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "So here's how this will work. You'll be helping me manage schedules, track projects, make sure Nathan doesn't double-book himself, and occasionally run interference when someone's panicking about a deadline."

"Oh. Right. That all sounds... manageable." It didn't, but I'd fake it until I made it.

"And if you ever mess up because you will mess up," he added, pointing at me with a half-grin, "just own it and fix it. I don't do screaming or passive-aggressive sticky notes. We talk. Cool?"

I blinked. "Cool."

"Oh and one last thing," he added, gesturing vaguely. "Don't call me Mr. Ford. Makes me feel like I should be holding a cane and yelling at kids to get off my lawn. Just Alex."

"Right. Okay. Alex."

"Good." He gave me a satisfied nod. "I think we'll get along just fine, Charlie."

I smiled, surprised at how much lighter I felt after just a few minutes in his office.

Yeah... I could work with this guy.

Perfect thanks for the clarification. Here's the revised version of the scene with that dynamic in mind: Charlie's still trying to figure Mia out, she's intimidating in that casually terrifying way, and his inner thoughts reflect his awkwardness.

By the time I made it back to the apartment, my legs felt like wet noodles and my brain had officially declared a shutdown. I kicked the door shut behind me, clutching the stack of forms Mrs. Harrison had given me like they were government secrets.

Mia was already home, perched on the edge of the couch like a queen on her throne, legs crossed, one hand cradling a bottle of Coke, the other holding a slice of greasy pizza. The takeout bags were spread across the coffee table like battlefield debris, and something on the TV was loudly explaining how a dentist from Wisconsin had gotten away with murder.

She didn't look up when I entered.

"Good, you're alive," she said, her voice sharp and uninterested. "I was about five minutes from calling the morgue."

I hovered near the entrance, unsure if I was supposed to laugh or apologize. "Uh... sorry?"

Her head turned, finally acknowledging me. Her eyes scanned me, like she was checking for visible damage. "You look like hell."

"Thanks," I muttered, tugging at my wrinkled collar. "Appreciate the warm welcome."

She smirked, then nodded toward the open pizza box. "Help yourself. Before it gets cold. Again."

I shuffled toward the couch, cautiously sitting on the very edge like the cushions might swallow me whole. I still wasn't sure how to act around Mia. We'd only been living together four days, and while she hadn't bitten me yet, I was fairly convinced she was capable of it.

"Rough day?" she asked, without sounding particularly concerned.

"Uh... not rough, exactly. Just-new." I grabbed a slice and tried not to drop cheese on the paperwork in my lap. "It was my first day. So, you know, a lot."

She raised a brow. "You cry in the bathroom yet?"

"What? No!" My voice cracked halfway through. I cleared my throat. "No. I didn't cry."

"Yet," she said, turning back to the TV. "Give it a week."

There was a long pause while we both chewed-me, nervously; her, like someone who had already made peace with murder documentaries and lukewarm pizza being her dinner companions.

I decided to speak again before the silence swallowed me.

"My boss-well, not the boss, but the guy I'm directly assisting-he's actually kind of great."

She glanced at me again, eyebrow arching. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. His name's Alex Ford. He's calm. Like... really calm. Not scary. Doesn't talk down to you. Made me feel like I wasn't totally screwing everything up, which I'm pretty sure I was."

"Hot?"

I choked on my soda. "What?! I-I don't- I didn't really notice."

Mia smirked. "That means yes."

"I didn't say that."

"Didn't have to. You've got that weird little dazed look people get when they meet someone competent and attractive. You're basically glowing."

I could feel my ears burning. "I'm not glowing. I'm just... tired."

She didn't respond. Just smirked and picked up a box of noodles like she was settling in for the evening news.

After a few beats of silence, I took a breath. "I haven't met the CEO yet. Nathan Harts."

"The big boss?" she asked between slurps.

"Yeah. Everyone talks about him like he's... I don't know. Like he's the kind of guy who can end your entire career with a look."

Mia gave a low chuckle. "Sounds like someone you need to make a good impression on."

"That's the plan. Or... at least not trip and fall on him."

"Rule number one," she said, lifting a finger without looking at me. "Don't be a coward."

I blinked. "I-what?"

"You heard me. You show fear, you get eaten alive. Especially in an office like that." Her voice had the same tone as a drill sergeant explaining how to clean a rifle. "Stand straight. Make eye contact. If someone tries to push you around, push back harder."

"That sounds like a great way to get fired on day two."

"It's a great way to not become the office doormat. Or the guy who ends up fixing the printer because no one else can be bothered."

I chewed my pizza, unsure how to respond. I wasn't really the "push back harder" type. I was more the "apologize and panic quietly in a supply closet" type.

She must've sensed it, because she turned fully toward me and said, "Look. You're new. You're awkward. You're... you." Her eyes narrowed. "Which means people are going to underestimate you."

"Thanks?"

"Use it," she said flatly. "Let them think you're soft. Then surprise them. That's how you win."

I blinked at her. Honestly, she kind of scared me. But in that way where I also wanted her to like me. Or at least not throw a shoe at me.

"I'll... keep that in mind," I said.

"Good." She went back to her food. "You'll be fine. Just don't embarrass yourself."

"Great pep talk," I muttered.

She shrugged. "What can I say? I'm nurturing."

I stared at her for a long moment, then slowly said, "Are you sure you're not secretly an assassin?"

"No," she said, deadpan. "But if I were, you'd already be dead. So you're safe. For now."

I sat in silence, chewing my pizza a little faster.

So yeah. Day one? Survived.

Barely.

The next morning, the universe decided to be nice for once.

No spilled coffee. No train delays. No old man accusing me of stepping on his foot (which I absolutely hadn't done, by the way). I actually arrived at the building a full ten minutes early, with my shirt ironed and my nerves only slightly vibrating under my skin. Progress.

The lobby was quieter than yesterday. The receptionist gave me a once-over but didn't say anything this time-probably because I didn't look like I'd just fought a raccoon on the train platform.

I swiped my shiny new ID at the elevator, watched the little green light flash, and stepped in, feeling like a certified adult. A nervous, still-kind-of-confused adult-but adult nonetheless.

By the time I reached the 21st floor, my palms were only mildly sweaty. I rehearsed a small speech in my head-"Good morning, Alex," very original, I know-and straightened my tie at least five times in front of the mirrored panel in the elevator. I was ready.

Or so I thought.

The elevator doors pinged open to the most gorgeous office space I'd ever seen. Sleek, clean, elegant. The kind of place where the air smells expensive and the carpet looks too nice to walk on. There were glass doors to my left, a hallway to the right, and a couple of massive floor-to-ceiling windows that made it feel like you could float out over the w