The next morning, Amara's alarm rang at 4:30 AM.
She groaned, rolling over with heavy eyes, but there was no time to complain.
Damian Knight had made it very clear-earlier starts were her new normal.
By 6 AM sharp, she was at her desk, coffee in hand, reviewing his calendar and double-checking the day's tasks.
Her phone buzzed at exactly 6:15 AM.
Message from D.K.:
"My office. Now."
Amara grabbed her notepad and rushed upstairs.
Inside, Damian sat by the window, dressed in another tailored suit, scrolling through his tablet.
Without looking up, he said, "Close the door."
She obeyed quickly, heart already racing.
When she turned back to face him, he set his tablet down and leaned back in his chair, fixing her with that unreadable stare of his.
"We're going to establish something right now," he said smoothly. "If you're going to survive in this job... you're going to learn how I operate."
Amara swallowed hard. "Okay."
"First rule..." He ticked it off with his finger. "You don't ask unnecessary questions."
She nodded quickly, jotting that down.
"Second," he continued, standing and walking toward her, "you stay three steps ahead of me at all times. Anticipate. Predict. Learn my patterns."
Amara scribbled faster.
"Third," Damian's voice dropped slightly lower, "I don't repeat myself. If I give you an instruction once, I expect it done... and done right."
Amara's cheeks flushed. "Understood."
He crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a long, measured look.
"And lastly..." He paused, letting the silence linger long enough to make her squirm. "...Keep your personal feelings far away from your professional responsibilities. This is business. Not a game."
For a second, something in his tone made her chest tighten.
"Yes, Mr. Knight," she said, keeping her voice steady.
His gaze lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary... then he nodded once and returned to his desk.
"Good. Now... we're late for the finance briefing. Let's go."
---
The day flew by in a blur of meetings, emails, phone calls, and errands.
By lunchtime, Amara was already mentally exhausted-but she didn't dare slow down.
Everywhere Damian went... she followed.
Every time he gave her an order... she jumped into action.
By 4 PM, she was standing by the printer, waiting for twenty copies of a client report, when Eric appeared at her side.
"You look like you've been hit by a truck," he said with a teasing grin.
Amara laughed tiredly. "I feel like it too."
Eric lowered his voice. "Don't worry. First week with Damian is like boot camp. If you survive this, you can survive anything in this company."
Amara smiled faintly, taking the freshly printed papers in her arms. "Survive first... celebrate later."
---
That evening, as the office emptied out, Amara was still at her desk typing up Damian's next-day schedule when her phone buzzed again.
Another message from him:
"I need you in my office. Now."
Amara's heart jumped as she grabbed her notepad and hurried upstairs.
When she stepped inside, Damian stood by the window, staring out at the city skyline.
For a brief moment... he looked tired. Almost human.
Without turning, he said quietly, "Tomorrow's going to be worse than today. Be ready."
Amara blinked. "Worse?"
His voice turned sharp again. "That wasn't a question."
Her throat tightened. "Yes, Mr. Knight."
He finally turned to look at her, that cold, unreadable expression back in place.
"Goodnight, Miss Rivera."
She nodded, turning to leave.
But just before closing the door behind her, she allowed herself one small, secret smile.
She was still here. Still standing.
And something told her... the real game was just getting started.
---(Damian's POV)
Damian stood by the window of his office, staring down at the city that stretched far beyond Knight Tower.
To most people, the view meant success. Power.
To him... it meant responsibility and control.
And right now... he felt like he was dangerously close to losing control over one thing: her.
Amara Rivera.
The girl with wide brown eyes and too much emotion written all over her face.
She was nothing like the assistants he'd hired before.
They had been polished, robotic... perfectly trained to handle his moods and his impossible expectations.
But her? She was... raw. Unfiltered. Clumsy.
Yet somehow... she was still here. Still trying.
After the mess she made on her first day, Damian had fully expected her to quit. Or crumble under pressure.
But this morning... she showed up. On time. With the correct meeting agenda in hand.
And just now, during her first full day of shadowing him... she kept up. Barely, but she did.
Damian dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly.
She didn't belong here. Not really.
This world... his world... wasn't made for people like her. Too soft. Too easily broken.
Yet when he'd stood across from her earlier, listing off his rules... watching her scribble down every word with shaky hands but determined eyes...
Something about her stirred a reaction he wasn't used to.
A flicker of curiosity. A small, annoying crack in his carefully built walls.
---
Damian walked back to his desk and opened the folder with her notes from today's meetings.
Messy handwriting... but detailed.
He found himself smirking slightly without meaning to.
She was learning faster than he thought.
---
His phone buzzed.
An email from the PR department about the upcoming gala event.
Damian's mood darkened immediately. Another social function. Another night full of fake smiles, small talk, and investors pretending to care about more than profits.
And now... he'd have to drag Amara along too.
Part of him wondered... would she survive that kind of spotlight?
Would she manage... or would she fall apart in front of cameras and reporters?
The thought shouldn't amuse him... but it did.
---
With a low sigh, he typed a short message to her:
"I need you in my office. Now."
He didn't bother waiting long.
Seconds later, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," he said, already turning back toward the window.
He heard her footsteps-light but hesitant-as she entered.
Without looking at her, he said, "Tomorrow's going to be worse than today. Be ready."
He waited for her protest... but it never came.
Instead, her soft voice answered: "Yes, Mr. Knight."
That made him pause for a split second.
Maybe she was stronger than he thought.
He allowed a small, almost invisible smile to cross his lips before adding, "Goodnight, Miss Rivera."
As the door clicked shut behind her, Damian stood in the silence of his office... staring out at the city lights...
And for reasons he couldn't explain... he realized something dangerous.
Amara Rivera wasn't just a distraction.
She was going to be a problem.
A problem... he wasn't sure he wanted to solve.
---Damian folded his hands behind his back, pacing slowly by the window. Each inch of the city below seemed to echo the order he demanded in his life-except for one unpredictable variable: Amara.
Her resilience flickered in his mind-her calm under pressure earlier today, the way she'd kept up in meetings, even her subtle smile when he issued silently commanded punishments.
He traced the edges of her file on his desk. A mess of neat and sloppy handwriting, annotated with little highlights and personal notes-like reminders to follow up or watch certain meetings. Despite its imperfections, it was more than most assistants managed in their first week.
Damian clicked his pen, a habit he couldn't shake. He needed control. He needed predictability. And yet:
She arrived before dawn, every single day.
She learned his preferences faster than he'd trained many who'd been there longer.
And tonight... she would stand by his side at the gala.
A flicker of curiosity turned into resolve.
Whatever sparks this-ambition? Fear? Adrenaline?
He tilted his head. He hadn't decided if that scared him... or excited him.
---
Amara's POV
The evening sky was just cooling into shades of indigo as Amara walked out of Knight Tower. She paused to catch her breath, phone buzzing in her pocket with one new message.
"Check your email - gala prep needed." - D.K.
Her chest tightened. Gala prep. That meant dresses, styling, cameras-an entirely new battlefield.
Her work with Damian had left her exhausted but oddly exhilarated. His rules, his expectations-they were brutal, yes. But each day she survived, she felt herself grow stronger.
"Three steps ahead."
That mantra played inside her head. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to panic.
She opened her email:
"Dress code: cocktail gown (navy or charcoal)."
"Arrive at Knight Tower, valet, 6 PM sharp."
"Prep briefing with PR team at 5:30 PM."
Her stomach fluttered-not with nerves, but excitement. Yes, this was outside her comfort zone... but wasn't that exactly the point?
---
Damian closed his office door behind her earlier that night. Now alone, he allowed himself one small smile. She'd come. She'd stayed. She'd proven something-maybe even to herself.
He reached for his phone again-typing a short note:
"You'll do fine. See you at 5:15. Wear confidence." - D.K.
It wasn't a command. It wasn't a threat. It was...unexpectedly supportive.
Turning off his light, with the city's glow behind him, he wondered:
How far would she really go?