The day started like any other: endless emails, ringing phones, Lily running around the office with a coffee in one hand and three folders in the other. She was just about to sit at her desk when Alex's voice cut across the room.
"Miss Carter. My office."
Melissa gave her a look. "Uh-oh. What did you break this time?"
Lily groaned. "Probably his will to live."
She straightened her blouse, forced on her brightest smile, and marched into the lion's den.
Alex was already behind his desk, his laptop open, the morning light cutting across his sharp features. He didn't look up as he spoke.
"There's an overseas investor arriving tomorrow," he said. "A critical deal for the company. You'll be preparing the presentation."
Lily blinked. "I'm sorry—what?"
Now he looked up, his gaze like ice. "Did I stutter?"
Her stomach flipped. "You mean me. As in… me me? Not the army of professionals who've been doing this for years?"
"You are my assistant," Alex said evenly. "This is part of the role."
"That's not part of the role! My role is… coffee-fetching, schedule-wrangling, occasionally making you look human!"
His brow arched. "Consider this… a promotion."
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Lily stumbled back to her desk, clutching the folder Alex had given her like it was a bomb. Melissa was waiting, curiosity written all over her face.
"Well?"
"He wants me to… oh God… prepare a presentation for overseas investors."
Melissa nearly spit out her coffee. "You?! Rookie, that's—huge."
"It's a death sentence!" Lily hissed. "One wrong chart, one typo, one misplaced comma, and he'll feed me to the corporate wolves!"
Melissa leaned closer. "Or… you nail it. And prove him wrong."
Lily groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Why does everything with him feel like a trap?"
"Because it is," Melissa said cheerfully. "But hey—you're scrappy. You've survived this long. Just… don't let him see you sweat."
"Too late," Lily muttered. "I've been sweating since 2003."
But deep down, beneath the panic, a flicker of determination sparked. If Alex Knight thought she couldn't do this, she'd prove him wrong.
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By noon, Lily had barricaded herself in the conference room with her laptop, files, and an obscene amount of coffee.
"Okay, Carter," she whispered to herself. "You've got this. Investors like numbers, right? And charts. And… probably not pictures of puppies, so scratch that idea."
She pulled up financial reports, her eyes glazing over at the endless rows of figures. "Revenue growth, projections, market expansion… oh God, what do half these words mean?"
She was so absorbed in her muttering that she didn't notice Alex standing in the doorway.
"You're already behind," he said flatly.
She yelped, nearly knocking over her coffee. "Do you try to sneak up on people, or is it just your natural state?"
He ignored the question, walking around the table to glance at her laptop. "Your structure is wrong."
"It's a draft!" she protested.
"It's sloppy," he corrected.
Her cheeks burned. "Well, excuse me for not being fluent in Business Robot."
He straightened, his eyes cold. "If you can't handle this, say so now."
Something inside her snapped. She sat up straighter, meeting his gaze head-on. "I didn't say I couldn't handle it. I said it's a draft. And I'll get it right."
For the briefest second, his eyes flickered—like he hadn't expected that answer.
"Good," he said finally. "We'll see."
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The rest of the day blurred into caffeine, frantic typing, and Lily muttering at her screen like it was an enemy she had to conquer.
"Okay, pie chart here. No, too childish. Bar graph? Ugh, boring. Maybe—oh wait, this actually looks… good?"
By evening, she had a rough draft. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes, when Alex appeared again.
"Show me."
She groaned. "Do you live in vents or something? How do you always appear like a terrifying bat?"
He ignored her, scanning the slides. "This section is weak. Fix the language here. This graph—move it to the appendix."
She bristled. "You could say 'good job' once in a while, you know."
"I could," he said smoothly. "But then you'd stop trying."
She gaped. "Oh my God. You're actually evil."
He didn't respond. But as he turned to leave, the faintest smirk tugged at his lips.
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The next morning, Lily presented her revised slides in Alex's office. He sat behind his desk, arms crossed, gaze sharp as she stumbled through the points.
Her palms were sweaty, her voice wobbled, but she pushed on.
"Market expansion has increased quarterly projections by—"
"Wrong," Alex interrupted. "Say it again. With confidence. Investors don't trust hesitation."
She clenched her fists, tried again. Louder. Clearer.
He interrupted again. "You're rushing. Slow down."
She wanted to scream. But instead, she straightened her back and met his gaze. "Fine. Again."
For the next hour, he tore through her presentation, interrupting, correcting, challenging.
At first, it felt like torture. But somewhere along the way, something shifted. She started anticipating his questions, answering without hesitation. Her voice grew steadier, her slides sharper.
By the end, she was out of breath, exhausted, but… proud.
Alex closed the folder, his face unreadable. "Acceptable."
"Acceptable?!" she gasped. "That was basically an Oscar-worthy performance!"
He didn't respond. But as she stormed out, muttering about dramatic CEOs, his eyes lingered on her with something he didn't allow himself to name.
Respect.
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That night, Lily collapsed on her couch, laptop still open beside her. She was drained, but the spark of pride in her chest wouldn't let her rest.
For once, she hadn't completely drowned. She'd swum. Barely, clumsily, but still—she'd swum.
Across the city, Alex poured himself a glass of scotch, staring at the skyline. He told himself it was just a test. Just business.
But he couldn't shake the image of her standing tall, fire in her eyes, refusing to back down.
For the first time in years, he had given someone trust. Fragile. Uncertain. But trust nonetheless.
And he wasn't sure whether it terrified him… or intrigued him.