"I'll take it from here. Mr. Evans needs Ms. Harper upstairs within the hour." Vanessa turned to David.
David looked between us, clearly recognizing the tension but too polite to acknowledge it.
"Of course. Ms. Harper, you're all set. Your credentials will be active within fifteen minutes."
"Thank you, David."
I followed Vanessa out of David's office and immediately felt the weight of eyes on me. The open-plan floor buzzed with activity, but conversations dropped to murmurs as we passed.
"—Harper heiress—"
"—playing assistant now?"
"—wonder how long she'll last—"
Heat crawled up my neck. I kept my chin high, heels clicking against the polished floor with deliberate confidence.
Vanessa's mouth curved slightly. She was enjoying this.
At the elevator bank, she pressed the button and turned to me, adjusting her glasses with manicured precision.
"I've been Mr. Evans's Chief of Staff for three years now." Her voice carried the practiced smoothness of someone used to delivering corporate scripts.
"If you need guidance navigating his expectations—and trust me, they're exacting—feel free to reach out. I know how he operates better than anyone."
The possessive edge in that last sentence wasn't lost on me.
I smiled sweetly. "How thoughtful."
Vanessa clearly had no idea that Augustus and I had known each other since we were children.
That I'd watched him learn to play piano at the Evans estate while I sat on the bench beside him.
That I knew he took his coffee black but preferred Earl Grey tea in the afternoons.
That he had a tell when he was genuinely amused—the corner of his mouth would twitch before he controlled it.
That I probably understood Augustus Evans better than anyone in this gleaming tower ever could.
The elevator dinged.
"After you," Vanessa gestured.
I stepped inside the elevator, my shoulder brushing past Vanessa's as the doors slid shut.
The enclosed space forced proximity I didn't want.
I took the opportunity to study her properly—top to bottom.
The black suit fit impeccably. Tom Ford, probably. Tailored within an inch of its life, emphasizing sharp shoulders and a trim waist.
Conservative hemline. Sensible heels—Ferragamo, practical but expensive.
Her makeup was minimal. Foundation to even her skin tone, a touch of mascara, and nude lipstick that disappeared into professionalism.
Nothing flashy or frivolous.
Everything about her screamed serious woman doing serious work.
She wasn't pretty—not in the way I understood beauty. No soft curves or playful features. But she had something else.
Gravitas. Competence. The kind of polished severity that probably made board members sit straighter.
Mature and controlled.
Is this what he likes?
The thought slithered in unbidden.
Did Augustus prefer women like Vanessa? All sharp edges and restrained ambition, mirroring his own discipline?
Women who wouldn't ruffle his perfectly ordered world with messy emotions or impulsive laughter?
I studied my reflection in the elevator's mirrored panel.
Glossy waves. Designer suit. Heels that added three inches and attitude. Pretty. Polished. But young.
Anyways, It didn't matter.
Whatever Augustus preferred, whatever type of woman caught his attention—
I wasn't here to win him over. I was here to please my parents, survive six months, and walk away with my allowance intact.
The elevator chimed.
Seventieth floor.
The doors slid open, revealing Augustus's domain once more.
He sat at his desk, fingers moving across his keyboard. He didn't look up as Vanessa led me inside.
"Mr. Evans." Vanessa's voice softened. "Ms. Harper is all settled in."
Settled in?
I bit back a laugh.
She'd walked me up an elevator and delivered veiled insults. That was the extent of her contribution.
Augustus's gaze lifted from his screen, landing on me briefly before shifting to Vanessa.
"Thank you."
Vanessa adjusted her glasses. "Would you like me to go over her initial assignments? I can help with the handover—"
"I'll handle Ms. Harper myself."
His tone left no room for negotiation.
Vanessa's smile tightened at the edges. "Of course. If you need anything—"
"That will be all, Vanessa."
Dismissed.
She inclined her head, shot me one last assessing glance, and departed.
The office fell silent except for the faint hum of the city below.
Augustus's attention returned to his laptop.
I stood there, handbag clutched like a shield, waiting for him to acknowledge me.
I shifted my weight, the silence stretching past comfortable into deliberate.
My heel tapped once against the floor.
Nothing.
Augustus kept typing, his expression unchanged, as if I'd ceased to exist the moment Vanessa left.
Heat prickled beneath my collar.
"Are you going to ignore me all day, or do I actually have work to do?"
His fingers paused. He looked up, one eyebrow lifting with that infuriating composure.
"Patience isn't your strong suit."
"Neither is wasting time." I stepped closer to his desk. "You've got me here for six months, Augustus. Might as well put me to use."
He leaned back in his chair, studying me with those dark, unreadable eyes.
"Very well." Augustus's gaze didn't waver. "There's quite a bit I need—"
I straightened, ready for whatever impossible task he'd throw at me. Client research. Market analysis. Some intricate project he'd designed specifically to watch me struggle.
Instead, he reached for his empty mug and held it out.
"Coffee. Black. From the executive lounge on sixty-eight."
I stared at the mug.
Then at him.
"You want me to fetch you coffee."
"Is there a problem?"
My jaw tightened. "I went to Wharton."
"I'm aware."
"I have a graduate degree in business strategy."
"Also aware." He set the mug on the edge of his desk, still extended toward me. "And yet, you're my assistant. Which means when I need coffee, you get it."
Heat flooded my cheeks.
This was deliberate. A petty power play disguised as routine.
I could refuse. Walk out. Call my father and tell him Augustus was treating me like a glorified intern.
But that would prove exactly what everyone expected—that I couldn't handle real work. That I was too proud, too spoiled.
Too much like the Harper heiress they all whispered about.
I snatched the mug from his hand.
"Black."
"Black," he confirmed, returning to his screen.