FIRST ENCOUNTER
The office was too quiet.
That was how Isa knew something was wrong.
On a normal Monday, phones rang nonstop, printers screamed, and someone
somewhere was always complaining about the coffee. But today, silence had
settled over the floor like a warning nobody wanted to say out loud.
Isa peeked over her monitor, and immediately saw why.
The man standing by the window didn't belong here. Tall, dark suit, a watch
that cost more than her annual bonus, hair slicked back in a way that made him
look more dangerous than professional. His presence alone seemed to pull the
air out of the room.
"Who's that?" she whispered to her coworker, Nina.
Nina didn't even look up. "You don't know?" she whispered back. "That's Viktor
Ivanov."
Isa frowned. "The new investor?"
Nina shot her a look. "Try the new boss. He officially bought out the company
last week. As of today, we all work for him."
Isa blinked. "You're kidding."
"Do I look like I'm joking? HR has been in a panic since sunrise. The man's a
billionaire, Isa. Russian. Cold. The kind who smiles while signing termination
letters."
Isa's heart thudded. "Great. Just great."
She tried to focus on her screen, but curiosity kept pulling her gaze back.
Every time she glanced up, he was still there, calm, still, like the world
moved around him and not the other way around.
Before she could look away one last time, the secretary's voice cut through
the silence.
"Miss Torres? Mr. Ivanov would like to see you in the conference room."
Isa froze. "Me?"
The secretary gave her a look that was almost apologetic.
"Rest in peace," Nina muttered.
"If I don't come back," Isa said under her breath, "clear my browser history."
Clutching her files, she made her way down the hall, mentally rehearsing what
a polite, professional employee sounded like.
When she pushed open the conference room door, she stopped short.
He was already there, seated at the far end of the long glass table. No
laptop. No phone. Just him, waiting.
Viktor Ivanov looked exactly like power was supposed to look, composed, sharp,
unbothered. His gaze lifted slowly to meet hers, and Isa forgot, just for a
second, how to breathe.
"Miss Torres?" His voice was low, accented, smooth in a way that felt almost
unreal.
"Yes, sir," she managed. "You asked to see me?"
"You're late," he said simply.
Her mouth opened. "The elevator. . ."
"Excuses," he interrupted, leaning back in his chair. "Sit."
Her knees weren't entirely cooperating, but she crossed the room and set the
folder on the table. His eyes followed her, not in a threatening way, more
like he was cataloguing something valuable.
"I brought the employee performance reports you requested," she said quickly.
"If you'd like, I can walk you through—"
He lifted one hand, stopping her mid-sentence.
"How long have you worked here?"
"Two years, sir."
"And yet. . ." he tilted his head slightly "you're the only one who didn't panic
when I walked in."
Isa blinked. "Should I have?"
"Everyone else seems to think so."
"I guess I didn't get the memo," she said lightly.
A faint smile crossed his lips. "You have humor. That's dangerous."
"Why?"
"In my world, humor means you're not afraid."
She swallowed. "And that's… bad?"
"It's unusual."
The way he said it sent a tingle up her spine. The room felt smaller than
before. Quieter.
"Do I make you nervous, Miss Torres?"
She held his gaze. "Should you?"
"I usually do."
The air between them stretched taut. Isa broke first, pretending to shuffle
her files.
"If you don't need anything else, I can send the rest to your email," she
said.
He didn't answer. When she looked up, he was still watching her, like he was
making a decision she wasn't privy to.
Finally, quietly: "You may go."
Isa nodded too quickly and turned for the door, her heels sharp against the
marble.
Halfway out, his voice stopped her.
"Miss Torres."
She turned. "Yes?"
"Next time," he said, "don't hide behind your reports. Look me in the eye when
you speak."
Her breath hitched. She didn't reply. She just left.
✦
Outside, Isa pressed her back against the nearest wall and let out a long,
shaky exhale.
Nina materialized beside her. "So? How bad was it?"
Isa stared at the ceiling. "He's… something else."
"Scary?"
"Yes. No. I don't know." She rubbed her forehead. "He talks and you can't tell
if he's about to fire you or promote you. And he barely blinked. Not once."
Nina patted her shoulder. "Classic dark boss energy."
Isa shook her head. "Don't start."
✦
Viktor remained in the conference room long after she'd gone.
He wasn't one to linger. He had never been. And yet he found himself replaying
her words, her tone, the quiet defiance behind her eyes when he'd pushed.
Ivan stepped inside a few minutes later, expression carefully neutral. "How's
the new staff holding up?"
"Efficient," Viktor said.
"Efficient?" Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Or terrified?"
"One girl, Isa Torres, she doesn't flinch."
Ivan's mouth twitched. "And you like that."
"I like people who can look at danger and still hold their ground," Viktor said
quietly.
He glanced back at the seat she'd occupied. The faint trace of her perfume
still hung in the air, soft, almost stubborn, like she'd refused to fully
leave.
"Assign her as my personal assistant."
Ivan frowned. "Already? She's not even from the admin team."
"She is now." Viktor turned toward the window. "Let's see how long she
survives in my world."
✦
That evening, Isa sat on her couch, laptop open but untouched, replaying the
day on a loop she couldn't stop.
She'd had difficult bosses before — arrogant ones, impatient ones, a man who'd
once thrown a stapler. But Viktor Ivanov was something different. Something
that made her nerves fire and her logic go quiet.
She told herself it was just intimidation. Just power. Just the strangeness of
a new regime.
But she knew, somewhere underneath all that logic, that she was lying to
herself.
The moment he'd looked at her, she'd felt it, that pull, that warning, like
standing too close to the edge of something.
For the first time in her life, Isa Torres realized she had walked into something she didn't know how to walk back out of.
Something that looked a lot like danger. Something that looked a lot like him.