Ayla's POV
The elevator dinged open onto the executive floor, quieter, colder, the kind of place that smelled like power and polished lies.
My heels clicked against the marble as I walked out, trying to steady my heartbeat. Every corner gleamed, and every sound felt too loud. Everything seemed coordinated except my heart, which felt like it was fighting a war.
The plaque read EXECUTIVE SECRETARY'S OFFICE.
I knocked once.
"Come in," said a man in a calm and polite voice. He looked like a man in his thirties, sharp suit, sharper eyes, the kind of man who had learned how to survive beside a boss like Elena.
"You must be Miss Davul," he said, rising to greet me with a practiced smile. "I'm Raymond Cole, Ms. Morgan's executive secretary."
His handshake was firm but polite. He gestured toward the chair across from him.
"I've been expecting you," he said. Of course he had.
He opened a sleek folder and slid it across the desk. "Ms. Morgan's schedule. Preferences. Contact list… You'll be working closely with me."
The folder felt heavier than it looked. Inside, her name was everywhere, printed bold across every header: ELENA MORGAN, GENERAL MANAGER.
I stared a moment too long, my stomach tightening as memories flashed in my mind the way she used to look at me, and her voice that could melt and destroy at the same time.
I swallowed hard and shut the folder before the memories swallowed me instead.
"She likes her coffee black, no sugar," Raymond explained, scanning his tablet. "Always on her desk by nine. Another at noon. Every three hours you send a cup to her table, whether she drinks it or not. Your job is to make sure it's there. Her calls are private. Never interrupt unless it's urgent. She hates late reports, slow replies, and don't use perfume stronger than hers."
That earned a quiet laugh from him, a nervous one. I smiled before I could stop myself.
"She's always been like that," I muttered softly.
Raymond glanced up, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "You know her?"
I hesitated, then lied. "Just… by reputation."
He studied me for a second, then shrugged. "You'll learn fast. She notices everything."
That's what I was truly afraid of.
Raymond handed me a sleek tablet, her color-coded calendar, meetings stacked over meetings, a life too tightly scheduled to breathe.
"This," he said, "is your world now."
"Your desk's over there for now until she gives new orders," he added, pointing toward a corner seat.
"Thank you," I said, heading over.
Another corner… Seven years ago in high school, it had been a corner seat beside hers.
Now it was another corner, just closer to her.
"Guess her corners never really end for me," I whispered as I pulled out the chair.
…
By noon, I had learned that everyone in this building moved like ghosts when Elena Morgan walked by.
Whispers scattered before her heels even clicked down the hall. Staff lowered their eyes, typed faster, talked softer, existed smaller.
It was like she dragged gravity with her, and we all bent around it.
I was still memorizing her meeting times when Raymond nudged my arm. "Noon coffee. Twelve sharp."
I nodded, heading toward the break area.
The espresso machine hummed a low, steady sound that matched my pulse.
By the time I reached her door, my palms were slick with sweat.
The nameplate glinted gold: GENERAL MANAGER.
I knocked softly, but there was no answer.
I pushed the door open an inch, just enough to see her standing by the window, phone pressed to her ear, light pouring over her in that same impossible way.
White blouse, long trousers, confidence stitched into every inch of her frame.
Her voice was low and steady. The kind that commands, not interrupts.
"Yes, tell them to move the conference an hour earlier… No excuses."
She turned slightly, still on the phone. Our eyes met for half a second.
That's all it took for everything inside me to twist, collapse, and catch fire.
I stepped in quietly, tray in hand, movements careful as I neared her desk. But just as I did, my heel caught the edge of the rug.
Barely, just enough. My ankle buckled, and the tray suddenly tilted.
"No…" I gasped, flailing as the cup wobbled dangerously and me, tipping right with it.
Before either of us could hit the floor, she was there. Fast and precise.
She crossed from the window in one swift motion. She tossed her phone aside. One hand caught the tray, and the other closed firmly around my waist.
Silence slammed into the room.
Her fingers stayed there, warm and sure, anchoring my waist.
Our faces were too close… close enough to see the faint flecks of gold in her eyes. Her eyes flicked down to my lips, maybe my neck, I couldn't tell. But I felt it.
She swallowed hard. I saw the movement of her throat, then the sudden tightness in her jaw.
Still, she hadn't released my waist, and I didn't move.
The speakerphone crackled behind us.
"Hello, ma'am? Are you there?"
Neither of us moved.
"Are you okay?" she asked finally, her voice low, husky, her breath brushing my cheek.
I nodded, barely.
Her hand was still wrapped around me.
"Ma'am?" the voice called again, breaking the spell.
Like a switch, she stepped back, smooth, composed, like she hadn't just caught me like something breakable.
She set the tray down. No word. No glance.
I stood there, still processing what just happened, while she picked up the phone as if nothing happened.
"Yes, as I was saying…" Her tone was calm, controlled.
But my heart wouldn't stop racing.
And her touch still lingered like a fingerprint burned into my skin.
I steadied my hands, fixed the tray on her desk. "I'll be at my seat if you need anything, ma'am."
She gave a small nod, nothing more.
I turned, heels clicking softly on the polished floor, trying to walk normally, but my legs refused to cooperate like I hadn't just fallen right back into everything I swore I'd escaped.
The door closed behind me with a quiet click.
Only then did I breathe.
Even in the silence of the hall, her touch hummed under my skin.
And for the first time since stepping back into her world, I wasn't just nervous, I was terrified.
Because if serving her coffee could lead to this, then what would happen when I had to stand beside her in meetings or in her office?
"No, Ayla… you're not doing this. You're quitting this job before your heart files an official resignation," I muttered, exhaling as my heels clicked down the hallway.