Chapter 4 Meeting him.

"Steel is not forged in comfort, but in fire; only through struggle does it find its strength."

It's a Monday morning. Stepping in through the company doors I take in a whiff of its scent. Its grounds are bubbling with activity. I walk over to the receptionist, and she's quite humble this time.

"Morning ma'am," she says avoiding eye contact.

I ignore her. "You know you should learn to treat people better, if I were as terrible as you I would fire you, anyway I don't have time for this" I stretch my palm out "the key?"

She hurriedly searches for the key "I am really sorry, I wasn't in a good mood the other day and I just lashed out"

"I would most definitely watch your back if I were you," I say with a smirk.

She hands over the key, and I collect it satisfied with the look of terror on her face.

Face held high I sashay towards the elevator with each confident click of my heels on the polished floor I purchased some days ago along with my new suit.

On reaching the last floor, I take a deep breath as the elevator doors slide open.

To: I'm greeted by a man I recognize as Mrs. Montclair's bodyguard, he nods and gestures for me to follow him. A few eyes follow me as I make my way through the office. My office is located in the inner chambers. It's large, with a cushion similar to Mrs. Montclair's, a water dispenser, and a large desk shaped like the letter S. My name, Camila Duarte, is embossed on the stand atop the desk.

"Hope you like it?" He arcs a brow

"Yes, yes I do" I trail my way to my seat. "And his office?"

He points ahead. "Your job is to attend to him and anyone who needs to get to him has to go through you first, I would be leaving now"

"Yes, sure. Thank you" I say. I spin around on the chair. I can't believe it. Who would have thought I would be working across the hall from the CEO of the Nexus Media? The view from up here is wonderful. I stare through the glass windows I can see a wide range of New York City. I could get used to this I think.

Now, it's time to get acquainted with my boss. I reach into my bag and grab a mirror. I reapply my lipstick and head to the restroom. Recently cleaned. I stare at myself in the mirror and smile. Thankful to my mom for my amazing features. My skirt hugs my curves, sitting a little above my knee, but I hike it up just a bit more. The suit accentuates my small waist.

I stifle a knock at the door. No response

I knock again. "Come in" I hear a masculine voice say.

I brace myself, my hand wrapping around the doorknob. As I push the door open, I see him-sitting at his desk, scribbling something on what looks like the latest Apple laptop. He glances up, eyes locking with mine. Brown hair, blue eyes-his frame filling up the chair like he owns it.

Then it hits me. The man from the other day. My heart races and my eyes widen in shock.

I adjust my stance, put up a smile, and walk briskly to his desk. I hope he doesn't remember me.

His watching me, eyes narrowed.

"Hello, I am Camila. Camila Duarte" I say extending my hand.

He doesn't take it. His voice is blunt "You are late".

"Sorry?"

"It's ten o'clock you should have been here an hour ago, and don't you think this is a little too shabby to wear to work?" He surveys me all over again.

I glance down at my skirt, feeling self-conscious. Definitely not what I was expecting. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were the fashion police." I force a smile, though there's an edge to my tone.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by my response. "I am not here to play games"

I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to snap back. I came here for a reason, and I won't let a little attitude throw me off. "I'm here to work, not waste time," I reply coolly, making my way around the desk to take a seat.

He doesn't move, his piercing gaze still locked on me. "Well, then let's see if you can keep up. I don't tolerate mediocrity."

I settle into the chair, crossing my legs, and give him a confident smile. "You'll find I'm anything but mediocre."

He leans back in his chair, eyeing me like I'm a puzzle he's yet to solve. "We'll see. The last person in your position couldn't handle the pressure. They barely lasted a week."

I tilt my head, matching his stare. "Well, I'm not the last person, am I? And I don't back down easily."

His lips twitch into a half smile, almost as if he's amused by my defiance. "We'll see how long that lasts," he mutters under his breath before turning his attention back to his laptop.

I take the opportunity to study him, how he carries himself with that air of control, the way his fingers move across the keyboard with practiced ease. It's hard to ignore the power he exudes.

"Is there anything I need to know, or do you expect me to figure it out as I go?" I ask, my tone casual but sharp.

His eyes glance up at me, as if testing my resolve.

"You'll figure it out. As long as you do what I say when I say it, I don't see us having an issue" he relaxes in his chair. "I don't need you here for now, so you may go back to your desk, I will be sending some contracts to the company email that you can access through the laptop we will give to you for proofreading"

"Okay," I say, Not quite the seductress I was going for.

"So let's get to work" she flashes a fake smile.

I get up and draw my skirt down a little and head for the door. I can feel his gaze piercing from behind.

As I reach the door, his voice stops me in my tracks.

"Camila," he says, the tone clipped but firm.

I pause, hand still on the door handle, my back to him. "Yes?"

His silence lingers for a moment longer than it should. Finally, he speaks again, his voice softer but no less commanding. "If you are going to be out in the rain, you should at least carry an umbrella"

I freeze, confused at first, then turn back slightly, a flicker of recognition passing through my mind. "So, you remember me, then?"

He doesn't hesitate, his eyes locking onto mine with a knowing look. "How could I forget?"

There's a shift in the air, something between us that wasn't there before. It's subtle but undeniable. His words hang in the space between us, and for a moment, I wonder what he's really thinking.

I force a smile, though the tension lingers in my chest. "I didn't realize you cared about my well-being," I say, masking my unease with sarcasm.

"I don't," he replies, his voice still cold. "But it's a waste of potential if you catch a cold." His gaze sharpens, as if daring me to challenge him.

"Consider it advice. Not a favor."

I meet his stare, my mind racing. "Noted," I say, turning back to the door.

As I step into the hallway, I can feel his eyes on me again. I couldn't care less, I have bigger things to handle.

I get to my desk and dial up Mom, who is still staying at my house. She's currently at the hospital with Rebecca.

"Hello, Mom. How is she?"

"She's responding to treatment, thank heavens."

"You okay Mom?"

"I'm fine, Camil." A pause. "Camil, where did you get the money for the treatment?"

I freeze for a moment. "Mom, I told you, I got a new job."

"A new job that pays you a thousand dollars on your first day?" Her voice tightens with concern. "I hope you're not involved in anything... illegal."

I force a laugh "Seriously, Mom? What do you think I am, a drug dealer?"

"I don't know what to think! Money like that doesn't just fall into people's laps."

She sighs. "I'm just worried about you, my darling."

"Mom, I'm not complaining. I'm okay, I promise. Who else would I rather be running around for than family? Please, don't worry about me."

"I love you, my sweet mucho."

"Love you too, Mom."

"Camil..." Something in her tone makes my stomach tighten.

"Yes?"

She hesitates. "Never mind. Just... be careful, okay?"

Be careful?

Before I can ask what she means, the line goes dead. I stare at my phone, unease settling in my chest. What was that about?

Just then, another call flashes on my screen.

Mike.

I let it ring once, twice

And then I pick up, swallowing the lump in my throat.