FIRST IMPRESSIONS

NAILA'S POV

My dreams were short fever lapses that made no sense.

Something made me jerk awake and I sat up, groaning loudly.

Fuck. What time was it?

Sunlight spilled in through the curtains and my lids felt heavy. Had I slept through the night?

My heart stopped for a second and my eyes flew open when I spotted Remy lounging on the couch, laptop on the coffee table as he stared at it, bottom lip tucked between his teeth in concentration.

Shit. I had slept in. We had a meeting andㅡ

I threw the sheets off my body and swung my legs off the bed, almost stumbling from the sudden motion.

Remy looked up, his brow raised. “You okay? Morning.”

I cleared my throat. “Morning,” I croaked. “You should have woken me up! Now, we're late for the meeting andㅡ”

He threw his head back and laughed, the sound brushing over my skin like a soft caress. “Relax. Summit Analytics postponed the meeting till tomorrow. There was a delay in their flight so they won't be here as planned.”

The anxiety lessened in me but I felt the urge to throw up again.

Not exactly helping because I was starving. And I was literally looking at food laid out on the table in the corner. He had already ordered breakfast.

He must have caught my gaze because he leaned backㅡ almost casually. “Hungry? Want me to call the doctor?”

I snapped my neck to look at him. “Fuck no. I'm fine. I just…wait…this means we're not doing anything today, yeah?”

“Hm, yeah, you should use the day to rest, don't you think?”

My stomach lurched. Staying in this room with him? Yeah no, I'd just take a stroll.

“That’sㅡ”

His brow arched. “If it helps, we have brunch with the employees since we couldn't make it to dinner yesterday.”

Ah. Right. I still hadn't officially met the other employees.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

A look I couldn't decipher crossed his face and suddenly, he was on his feet, striding towards me.

Uhㅡ

I took a hurried step back in my haste to maintain the distance between us and he chuckled, halting where he was as he tucked his hands into his dark pants.

“You may need to stop doing that.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Staying away from me. Keep doing that and I'll assume you still have feelings for me.”

My breath hitched. “Are you insane?”

His smirk didn't fade, instead, he leaned closer, his words a soft whisper. “Maybe, but you know I'm right. Keep doing like that and I'll make assumptions…and that's bad for business.”

Then he leaned away as though he didn't just send my heart racing. “That's not what this is.”

His expression schooled into something more serious. “Don't worry, I'm just messing around with you. But seriously…”

“I'm only being awkward because I'm still trying to recover from the fact that you're my boss andㅡ” the words tumbled out of my lips before I could process them.

Silence.

Thenㅡ “Naila… I understand, okay? But I swear I'm a nice boss, you don't have to be that jumpy.” He paused for a second, “It's just strictly business.”

My mind flickered back to last night. When he had carried me back to the room even though I had tried to refuse. Was that strictly business too?

Before I could think much about it, he jammed his hands together. “Okay, brunch is at noon sharp. Please eat and call room service if you need anything, I have somewhere to be.”

Oh.

I nodded, stepping back as he grabbed his jacket off the couch and nodded at me. “Bye.”

*************

By the time noon rolled around, I was lying on the couch with my laptop, going through the presentations again and correcting stuff.

He wasn't back yet.

Did that mean I could just stay in for the rest of the day?

My phone buzzed and I scrambled to get it, my heart flipping when I saw his name flash across the screen.

BOSSㅡ yes, I saved it with that. Clichè but whatever. “I'm sending someone up to come get you for the brunch. In 20 minutes. Get ready.”

Concise. Straight to the point.

I wasted no time getting ready for it, wearing a simply and formal gown that stopped at my knees with heels. After several minutes of internal debating, I settled on leaving my hair down and putting on some earrings.

These were the people I was going to be working with for a long time to come hopefully. First impressions did matter.

Finally, the bell rang and I grabbed my purse, heading out.

The man at the door looked young. Maybe in his early 20s. Trim dark hair and dark eyes that raked over me for a second before he smiled. “Miss Cole.”

Oh.

I smiled, my heart pounding in my chest. “Thank you. Nice to meet you.”

I took his outstretched hand, walking down the hallway with him.

“Pleasure. I'm Michael. I work in Marketing.”

“Oh…” I nodded, getting into the elevator with him as we went up.

He was languid beside me, hands folded across his lean frame. “Hm. The rest of the team are already waiting for you with the boss. It's a pleasure to have you on the team.”

My heart warmed at his genuine smile. “Thank you.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

The restaurant was already alive.

Warm light spilled over polished wood and glass tables and the scent of baked bread hit me immediately and my stomach betrayed me with a quiet twist.

Okay. Breathe. You can do this.

I stepped in, scanning the room out of habit—faces leaned together in animated discussion, laughter bubbling up from one corner, the clink of cutlery against plates.

Everyone looked…comfortable. Like they belonged here.

And then I saw him.

Remy stood near the center of the space, jacket off, sleeves rolled up like he owned not just the room but the air in it. He was mid-conversation with a man and a woman, a glass of water in his hand, posture relaxed in that infuriating way that made leadership look effortless.

The man was tall, sandy-haired, smiling easily.

The woman—My steps slowed.

She was beautiful in a sharp, deliberate way. Dark hair pulled back sleekly, red lipstick precise, posture straight as a blade. She laughed at something Remy said, her hand brushing his arm as though it belonged there.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

Before I could talk myself out of it, Remy’s gaze lifted—and landed on me.

For a split second, his expression shifted. As though he had been waiting.

He raised his hand slightly and crooked two fingers in a subtle beckon.

Come here.

Of course.

Michael gestured politely and peeled away, leaving me to cross the remaining distance alone.

Each step felt louder than the last, my heels clicking against the floor like they were announcing my arrival to the entire room.

Remy straightened as I approached. “You made it.”

“As instructed,” I muttered.

His lips twitched. Then he turned to the pair beside him. “Lila, Daniel—this is Naila Cole. My executive assistant.”

Executive assistant.

It sounded heavier out loud and my palms were sweaty already.

Daniel smiled immediately, extending a hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Thank you.”

Daniel’s handshake was warm, easy. “Daniel Weiss. Finance.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, relaxing just a fraction.

Then Lila stepped forward. “I’m Lila,” she said, her voice smooth, almost pleasant. “Legal.” She offered her hand.

The moment our palms met, her grip tightened. Not painfully—but deliberately. Her nails pressed in just enough for me to feel it, and when I looked up, her smile hadn’t reached her eyes.

They were locked on mine. Cold. Assessing. Sharp.

It was the kind of look women gave when they were sizing you up and deciding—very quickly—that they didn’t like what they saw.

Oh.

My fingers went numb.

I held her gaze, refusing to be the first to look away, even as something unpleasant settled low in my gut.

So that’s how it was.

Somehow, she had already decided I didn’t belong.