Chapter Six- Not Bad at all

~Ethan~

    What a disaster.

I stormed into my office, brushing angrily at the dark stain across my white shirt. The sharp scent of coffee clung to me like mockery. Of all mornings for this to happen, why today?

Daniel walked in, his brows pulling together when he saw me.

“Ethan, what happened?”

“A girl spilled coffee on me,” I said, the words clipped, agitation running sharp through my voice.

“Oh.” His tone softened. “There’s a backup shirt in the wardrobe. I put one there in case of emergencies.”

I gave him a look, half exasperated, half grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Within minutes, the ruined shirt was gone and a crisp new one took place. I tugged at the cuffs, forcing my irritation down. I had no time to dwell, an interview awaited me in the conference room. My former secretary had left three weeks ago, and without him, the office had slipped into disorder. Daniel was good, but he couldn’t carry everything alone. I needed someone sharp, reliable, and discreet. Preferably a man. Someone who wouldn’t complicate things.

I pushed into the conference room, rehearsing my silent mantra: get this over with, hire someone competent, and restore order.

Then I saw her.

The girl from the lobby. The one who had spilled coffee on me.

She looked up as though fate had played a cruel joke, and I couldn’t resist the smirk that tugged at my mouth. She froze for half a second before masking it with a polite smile.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice steady though her hands betrayed the faintest tremor as she clutched her folder.

“Good morning,” I replied, sliding her résumé toward me. “Miss Hart, is it?”

She nodded.

“Helena Hart.”

I scanned her résumé. Waitress. A smattering of part-time jobs. Barely any administrative work worth noting. Hardly the profile of someone who could survive here. And yet… I found myself intrigued.

“Tell me, Miss Hart,” I said, locking my gaze with hers, “why do you want to work at Fisher Corporation?”

Her breath hitched, just slightly, but her reply came with surprising composure.

“Because this company represents excellence. I want to be part of an organization where efficiency and discipline matter. My organizational skills and attention to detail can contribute to that.”

Efficiency. Discipline. Not the usual rehearsed answer. My interest sharpened.

“This role demands long hours, discretion, and someone who can anticipate needs before they’re spoken. Do you believe you’re capable of that?”

“Yes, sir. I adapt quickly and I learn fast. Anticipating needs comes from paying close attention, and that’s one of my strongest skills.”

Her confidence stirred something unexpected in me. I leaned back, studying her carefully. Confidence was cheap. Results weren’t.

“What would you do,” I asked slowly, “if I had three urgent meetings scheduled at the same time tomorrow morning?”

She didn’t falter. “I’d prioritize based on relevance and urgency, reschedule the less critical meetings without making anyone feel sidelined, and brief you thoroughly before the most important one so you’d walk in fully prepared.”

Not bad.

“And pressure?” I pressed, smirking slightly. “This office doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

Her lips curved faintly, a calm smile. “Pressure doesn’t scare me. It pushes me to work smarter and faster.”

Her words hit harder than I expected. No arrogance. No trembling excuses. Just quiet conviction. She wasn’t polished, but there was steel beneath the surface.

Closing her résumé, I folded my hands. “Thank you, Miss Hart. That will be all.”

She rose, smoothed her skirt, and walked out with measured steps. Determination clung to her like perfume.

And damn it, I found myself smiling. Not bad at all.

        An urgent meeting pulled me from my thoughts. At the curb, my car idled, ready.

“Get my car,” I told Daniel as I left the building.

Minutes later, I entered the restaurant where my investor waited. The air buzzed with muted conversations and clinking silverware, but at our table, there was no room for idle chatter.

“Ethan,” the man said, his eyes sharp as glass. “You promised progress. Where exactly does the collaboration stand?”

I adjusted my cufflinks, sliding back into control. Numbers. Projections. Timelines. I laid them out with practiced ease, speaking his language fluently. He listened, unblinking, his expression impossible to read.

But even as I spoke, my mind betrayed me. Images of Helena cut in, her steady gaze, her voice unwavering despite the odds stacked against her. A waitress turned applicant for a secretary. Any other CEO would have dismissed her in seconds. Yet here I was, thinking about her in the middle of a high-stakes meeting.

“…and the investors expect quarterly updates,” the man said, snapping me back.

“Of course,” I replied smoothly. “Reports will be delivered on schedule.”

He gave a short nod, satisfied, and we moved on. But the distraction gnawed at me. I hated losing focus. And Helena Hart was already a distraction.

   Back at the office, I should have buried myself in spreadsheets and contracts. Instead, I stood by the window, city lights flickering below, and thought of her again. Why her? Why now?

A soft knock came at the door. Daniel entered, holding a file.

“Here are the final résumés for the secretary position. Do you want me to shortlist?”

My hand hesitated over the folder. “Leave them,” I said curtly.

“Yes, sir.”

As he left, my gaze flicked to Helena’s name at the top of the pile.

I should dismiss her. She didn’t fit the profile. Not even close. But something told me hiring her wouldn’t just fill a vacancy, it would alter everything.

And then, as if to drive the thought deeper, the office phone rang. I picked it up.

“Mr. Fisher?” The voice on the other end was low, almost conspiratorial. “A word of caution. Be careful who you let into your office. Some secrets aren’t meant to be uncovered.”

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

I stood frozen, the dial tone humming in my ear.

My first thought was Helena.

Why her?

Why now?

And why, of all people, would someone warn me about her?