5: His Personal Assistant

MAEVE

Lucien was also present at the interview. It started almost 40 minutes after we arrived, and from the way the other HR members glanced at him from time to time, I knew it was unusual for him to conduct interviews. 

Of course, it was. What business does the CEO have with random interviews? 

He asked the hardest questions. Questions like why the company was founded, its core values, the services it provides, the names of its managerial directors, the locations of its branches, its brand ambassadors, etc. 

I answered almost all of them correctly. What he didn't know was that after Mom announced she was going to marry his father, I had gone down the rabbit hole, finding out everything I could about their father. Two days ago, when I announced that I was free to resume work on Monday, I went down the rabbit hole of reading everything I could find about the conglomeration. 

Now he looked surprised that I had managed to answer all of his questions. He thinks of me as a good-for-nothing birdbrain who wanted to claw her way up the ladder by using his family's influence, but he had no idea I didn't want to be here. I wouldn't be here if Aaron hadn't taken off with my life savings. And I couldn't wait to get out of his nose, too. 

The interview lasted more than 30 minutes, and I waited another 30 minutes outside the interview hall before HR came to congratulate me on getting the job. I was handed over to the secretarial department, where I was given the details of my role as a direct PA to the CEO. 

“Wait, I'm to work directly with Lucien?” I asked, alarmed, when the middle-aged lady dressed in a well-tailored red gown mentioned Lucien as we walked around the company. 

“Yes, the CEO personally requested that you work directly under him. He hasn't had a direct Personal Assistant in roughly 6 months. A lot of people can handle his demands and strict work ethic, but I guess he must have seen something in you that proves your efficiency, and since you're family…”

I tuned her out. I knew Lucien didn't make me his personal assistant because I was efficient. He did that because he wanted to frustrate me until I eventually crumbled, so he could tell his father that I was lazy and unfit to work for him. 

And that strengthened my determination to prove him wrong. 

I was shown the important areas of the company, especially the top floor, where Lucien's office was. The kitchen, the coffee maker… I was instructed on how he likes his coffee and where to pick his lunch from whenever he decides to eat in his office. 

I was told how best to work with him. I shouldn't get his orders wrong. I should aim to never make a mistake with his schedule, and whenever I do, I should correct it in a go. I should always be ready to work whenever he was working, even if it was at night. 

And lastly, I was shown into my office. It was right behind the receptionist’s and by the entrance of the CEO’s office. It was a moderately sized glass office that gave me no privacy of my own, and even though the wall separating my office from Lucien’s was glass. I couldn't see into his office at all. I got busy on my computer, checking his schedule, when I noticed I had just a minute left to bring him his midday coffee. 

And between running to the kitchen to prepare it and walking back to his office when trying not to spill it, I was five minutes late. 

“5 minutes late for your first task,” he spelled out when I entered his office, and I was momentarily blown away by its size. It was all Grey and black, polished walls and floors, huge bookshelves covering an entire wall, well-arranged couches, and a view of the city behind his huge desk. 

It was a sight to behold. 

“It's my first day and…”

“Is that an excuse to be incompetent?” he didn't even look up from his computer screen as he spoke to me like I was a piece of dirt under his shoe. 

“I'm sorry sir. It won't happen again.”

I set the cup in front of him, waited till he took a sip, and he promptly spat it out onto a tissue. 

“You got the taste wrong. Try again.”

“What? I followed the instructions I was given to the books and…” 

“Try it again, Maeve,” he looked up at me, his expression stone cold, and whatever excuse I had at the tip of my tongue died there. 

I went to remake his coffee again and again, almost 5 times. The receptionist smiled encouragingly at me every time I stepped out to go to the kitchen again. When he took a sip of the fifth attempt, he didn't spit it out, and he didn't complain; he only took another sip before setting the cup down. 

I glared at him and made to leave. 

“Here,” he stretched out a piece of paper to me, and it was only when I collected it that I realized what it was. A cheque of 200k. In my name. 

“What is this?” I asked shakily.

“You're not dumb, Maeve,” was his reply, with his whole attention on reading what was on his screen. I gritted my teeth. I couldn't stand him talking to me like I was nothing. 

“I know it's a bank cheque. I'm only asking you why you're giving me this much money. Do you want me to run an errand for you?”

“It's a payment for your silence,” he replied curtly, “take the money and disappear from my sight completely. Isn't that what you wanted when you moved in with a pathetic sob story? A secret to leverage on? And now I'm paying you that much money to forget that night ever happened.”

He was paying me to buy my silence about his forbidden vampire side? 

I set the cheque down on his desk, and he glanced at it before fishing out another one. He placed it right beside the other one, and I could see that it had no amount written on it. 

“Here, a blank cheque. Since 200k is too small for you. Take this and write any amount you want and get out of my face.”

I exhaled loudly, “I don't want your money, Lucien.”

“So what do you want?” he looked up at me then, and I was momentarily taken aback by the tiredness in his eyes, but the tiredness soon morphed into anger and chillness, so I might as well have imagined it. 

“Nothing.”

He chuckled, a dark, unhumored sound that echoed around the four walls of the office, “You expect me to believe that? You expect me to believe that you know the secret of one of the most powerful men in the world and you don't want anything?”

He rose to his feet, all intimidating aura and commanding energy, and I instinctively shifted back. He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me close to him, leaving little distance between us. 

He was angry, but my heart was pounding faster for another reason. Because of the distance between us, because of the way his eyes drifted from my lips to my neck at intervals, because of the way his teeth were gritting against each other as if it was taking all of his willpower not to bury them into the crook of my neck. 

And I very much wanted him to. 

“You've lost all your savings. You have zero naira to your name, and you have the opportunity to get any amount you want in exchange for keeping a secret, and you expect me to believe that? That money would change your life. It'd give you everything you've only ever dreamt of.”

He was right, and I could picture it. Setting up my café with the money, traveling around the world to learn new recipes, and growing my business into one of the best in the city. It was one that I've always wanted. It was what this money could give me. 

But there was no dignity in that. 

I forced myself out of his hold, “You can choose to believe whatever you want, Lucien Thorne, but life doesn't revolve around money. They revolve around more meaningful things. And everybody has their own secret and whatnot. You don't see me begging and trying to bribe you because you found out one of mine and…”

“That's because you're irrelevant. Your secret coming out isn't going to hurt anybody but you. Mine? It's going to shake and crumble the whole Thorne Empire and (their pack name).”

His words stung, but I ignored them, “Well, that's your business, and as I said earlier, it's up to you what you believe or what you don't believe.”

I turned on my heels to walk away only to stop in my tracks. The glass wall separating my office from his was completely see-through from his end. I could see my desk, my chair… Literally everything in my office. 

Lucien Thorne could see everything about me, all day from his office.