Aria's first week at Hale Industries passed in a blur of orientations, meetings, and increasingly challenging assignments. Nathan Hale was exactly as rumored—brilliant, demanding, and completely devoid of warmth. He spoke to her only when necessary, his instructions precise and his criticism sharper than a surgical blade.
Each morning, she arrived at the sleek glass building thirty minutes before her scheduled start time, determined to get ahead of the day's challenges. The Hale Industries headquarters dominated the skyline, with great architecture. Inside, the modern open-plan office buzzed with activity, employees moving with purpose and speaking in hushed, professional tones.
By the third day, she'd established a routine. Coffee first—black, no sugar, followed by checking emails that had accumulated overnight. Nathan Hale typically arrived at 7:30 AM sharp, his custom-tailored suits immaculate, his expression unreadable. He would stride through the office, employees straightening in his presence as if a current had passed through them.
"Rework this entire proposal," he'd said on her third day, dropping a folder on her desk without slowing his stride. "It lacks vision."
Aria had spent six hours on that proposal, but she simply nodded and pulled it back toward her. "Yes, sir." His footsteps were already fading down the hallway.
"He's quite the boss, yeah?" Sofia from the Public Relations department interrupted her while she was busy working on the revised proposal. Sofia had short brown hair framing a heart-shaped face, amber-colored eyes that sparkled with intelligence, and looked like she was in her late 20s. Today she wore a burgundy pencil skirt paired with a cream silk blouse, accessorized with delicate gold jewelry that caught the light when she moved.
"Yeah," Aria chuckled, giving her a quick glance before focusing back on her monitor. The screen reflected in her glasses as she carefully restructured the market analysis section.
"I've been here for four months, and it's usually very hard for new workers, but trust me, you'll get used to him. He's just a workaholic," Sofia leaned against the partition, a sympathetic smile on her face.
Aria nodded. "Thank you." She returned the smile briefly, her fingers never stopping their dance across the keyboard.
"He's just a workaholic," Sofia continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "I wonder if he has any social life. It's such a pity though." The last part came out almost as a whisper.
Aria just nodded again, quickly realizing that Sofia was probably the office gossiper. Every workplace had one, the person who knew everyone's business and delighted in sharing it.
"During break time, we usually get artisanal paninis and fresh-pressed juices from Harvest Kitchen across the street. You could join us," she added. "When you're free, of course."
"Thank you so much," Aria gave her a genuine smile as she watched Sofia return to her desk, hips swaying confidently as she navigated between the workstations.
Alone again, Aria exhaled slowly. She had mountains of work to complete and needed to make things perfect for her boss. Socializing would have to wait. This job meant everything, a foot in the door at one of the most prestigious companies in the country, a chance to prove herself in an industry dominated by legacy connections and Ivy League networks. Aria had neither, just raw talent and an unwavering work ethic.
The rest of the week proceeded in much the same fashion. Nathan Hale continued to demand excellence with minimal guidance, leaving Aria to navigate the complexities of her role through trial and error. Each day brought a new challenge: a last-minute presentation that needed polishing, a client crisis requiring immediate attention, data that needed to be analyzed and formatted to Hale's exacting specifications.
By Friday, Aria was running on caffeine and determination. She had stayed late every night, desperate to prove herself worthy of the chance he'd given her. The office had gradually emptied until she was alone, the only sound the click of her keyboard as she finalized a presentation for Monday morning.
The city lights twinkled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. In these quiet hours, the pressure of the day faded slightly, replaced by a focused calm that Aria had come to appreciate. Here, alone with her work, she could think more clearly, plan more strategically.
At 11:37 PM, she finally saved the document and stretched, wincing at the tension in her shoulders. She needed to get home, shower, and sleep for at least a few hours before returning for the weekend shift she'd volunteered for. The additional hours weren't required, but she knew they would set her apart and demonstrate her commitment,
As she gathered her things, laptop into its sleeve, notes organized into her leather portfolio, she realized she'd left her phone charger in the conference room. Sighing, she made her way down the darkened hallway, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.
Most of the floor was silent and dimly lit by security lights, giving the normally bustling space an eerie emptiness. The shadows stretched long and deep between desks, transforming the familiar landscape into something almost unrecognizable. Aria quickened her pace slightly, suddenly aware of how alone she was in the massive building.
The conference room door was ajar, and as Aria reached for the handle, she heard a crash from within. She hesitated, hand frozen in mid-air, heart suddenly pounding. She hesitated and then with a deep breath, she pushed the door open out of curiosity and concern..
Nathan Hale stood by the window, breathing heavily, his tie loosened and his normally perfect hair slightly disheveled. A broken glass lay shattered on the floor beside him, water spreading across the polished wood. The moonlight cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting cheekbones that seemed sharper than usual and eyes that gleamed with an intensity she'd never seen before.
"Mr. Hale? Are you all right?" Aria asked, alarmed by his appearance. This wasn't the collected, intimidating executive she'd come to know. This man looked vulnerable, he looked human.
He turned, and the look in his eyes made her take an involuntary step back. Gone was the cold calculation, replaced by something wild and intense. His gaze locked with hers, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
"You're…" His voice was different—rougher, with a warmth that had never been there before. "You must be the new marketing girl."