The scent of coffee, and the soft tapping of keyboards created a rhythm that could soothe or suffocate, depending on your mindset. Today, my nerves were taut, not from fear of my work, but anticipation.
My new assignment had just been handed down, and with it came a stipulation I hadn't expected: direct supervision under Edward Bruce, the CEO whose reputation was as legendary for brilliance as it was for being impossibly intimidating. I had seen him in company announcements, charity galas, and the occasional promotional video, always composed, sharp-suited, and distant. To work with him up close felt like standing on the edge of a skyscraper.
"Morning, Bethy," said Kelvin from accounting as he passed, nodding with a half-smile. "Big day, huh?"
I returned the smile, though it barely touched my eyes. "Yeah. Big day." I had no intention of admitting that my stomach had been twisting since I'd opened my inbox, revealing the assignment from Edward himself.
My first meeting with him was scheduled for nine. The corner office, glass walls reflecting the mid-morning sun. He was already there, standing by the windows, gazing out as if plotting the course of the world. When he turned, the air in the room seemed to tighten. Edward Bruce had sharp features, dark hair long enough to brush his collar, and eyes that cut through pretense like a knife.
"You must be Bethy Hance," he said, voice low, calm, but carrying the weight of authority. "I've reviewed your portfolio and I'm impressed.
"Thank you, Mr. Bruce," I replied, trying to steady the nervous flutter in my chest.
"You can call me Edward." His gaze lingered longer than necessary but it made her pulse quicken.
The meeting began professionally enough. He outlined the project: a high-profile client, a tight timeline, and deliverables that could make or break her standing in the company. I absorbed every word, jotting notes, and kept my composure. But I noticed the way he would occasionally lean closer to point out something on my notes; adjusting a pen, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, this carried an intensity that was impossible to ignore.
"You'll be the lead on this," Edward said, finally leaning back in his chair. "I expect updates every day. Mistakes won't be tolerated."
"I understand," I said, confident in my skills but aware that this was a high-stakes tightrope.
He nodded, almost approvingly. "Good. I like someone who meets expectations. But I also appreciate initiative. Show me your thinking before you act. I prefer strategy over reaction."
The tension in the room wasn't just professional; it was something charged, like static electricity in the air. I could feel it in the way my palms slightly dampened against my notebook, my thoughts wandered for a fraction of a second to how composed and maddeningly magnetic he appeared.
Before the meeting ended, he added, almost as an afterthought, "I'll need you to stay late tomorrow to finalize a confidential part of the project."
I blinked, heart skipping a beat. "Of course. I'll make sure it's done." I replied.
"Good," Edward said, a faint curve at the edge of his lips that might have been a smile. "I expect nothing less."
As I left the office, the fluorescent lights felt brighter, the hum of the computers louder. My mind replayed every detail of the meeting; the calm authority in his tone, the precision in his movements, the inexplicable pull I felt whenever he looked at me.
That night, at my apartment, I stared at the project outline on my laptop. I tried to focus on the numbers, graphs, and timelines. Yet every time I thought of the meeting, Edward's gaze seemed to resurface, sharp and knowing, leaving me with a fluttering heat I couldn't name.
The next morning, she stepped into the office and found a note waiting on my desk:
"I'll see you in my office after lunch. There's something you need to know." Edward.
My pulse quickened. Something I needed to know? My imagination ran wild with possibilities, none of them purely professional. I debated whether to prepare for a strategic discussion or something entirely unexpected. Either way, I was curious to find out.
When I finally approached his office, Edward looked up from his desk. Not the commanding CEO I had seen yesterday, but something slightly softer, deliberate.
"Bethy," he said, voice steady yet inviting. "Close the door."
I obeyed. The air between us felt heavier now, like the moment before a storm.
"I've been watching your progress," he began, leaning back in his chair. "You have talent, more than most in this company. But there's something else I need to be sure of. Can you handle pressure? Can you handle unexpected challenges
"I can handle whatever comes my way," I said, though my heartbeat betrayed my calm tone.
Edward studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Good. Because this project… and working with me… will test you in ways you can't anticipate. I need someone who won't just survive. I need someone who will thrive."
I swallowed, aware of the intensity in his words, aware too of the magnetic pull that had already begun to draw me closer to the edge.
As I left the office, my mind was spinning, my thoughts tangled between excitement and fear.
But I couldn't wait to see what came next.