2

After giving her the breakdown, the employee turned on her heel and left. Chloe Bishop sat down at her desk and began familiarizing herself with the work layout.

Suddenly, the landline on her desk rang.

Chloe picked up the receiver. "Hello, how can I help you?"

Her clear, sweet voice traveled straight into Xavier Grayson’s ear through the receiver.

It was soft and soothing, like a gentle spring breeze sweeping across a quiet lake, sending faint ripples through his heart.

"Coffee."

With those two clipped words, the line went dead.

Chloe froze for a second before snapping back to reality. She glanced at the clock and realized it was ten in the morning on the dot.

Right, this is an internal extension! The only person who could possibly call this line is Xavier Grayson! To think she had just asked who was calling—she felt absolutely brain-dead.

Knocking a fist lightly against her head in frustration, Chloe scrambled out of her chair and rushed to the breakroom.

The breakroom was pristine and spotlessly clean. Sitting on the counter was an exquisite, high-end espresso machine. Even the coffee beans were imported Panamanian Geisha—one of the most expensive coffee varieties in the world. Sipping a cup of this was basically the equivalent of drinking liquid gold.

After carefully brewing the coffee, Chloe brought the cup back and headed toward Xavier Grayson’s office.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in," the man’s deep voice echoed from inside.

Chloe took a deep breath, adjusted her posture, opened the door, and stepped inside.

"President Grayson, your coffee."

She walked over to his desk and set the cup down.

The man’s eyes remained glued to the computer monitor in front of him. He reached out, picked up the cup, took a sip, and immediately knit his brows.

"It's cold."

Chloe stiffened. Remembering the seventy-degree requirement she'd been warned about, she was sure she had timed it as closely as possible.

"I'm terribly sorry. It's my first day, so I'm not fully accustomed to the setup yet and misjudged the temperature." She offered a polite, respectful apology.

"Make another one," the man said casually.

Chloe blinked in surprise. She had assumed that since it was her very first attempt, he would at least make do with this one. She never expected him to order a total do-over.

This man is unbelievable! How can anyone be this high-maintenance?!

"Yes, right away, President Grayson. Please wait a moment."

Back in the breakroom, Chloe carefully estimated the temperature and brewed a fresh cup before returning to his office.

Plastering a polite smile across her face, she set the cup down.

"President Grayson, your fresh coffee."

Xavier Grayson took a sip, then set it right back down. "Too hot."

"It'll cool down if you let it sit for a moment—"

"That ruins the flavor profile. Brew another one." Xavier Grayson spared her a brief glance before turning his attention right back to his screen.

"..."

In all her years on this earth, Chloe had never met a man so insufferably picky!

For the sake of sixty thousand Dollars, I will swallow my pride!

With a smile on her face and a string of curse words running through her head, she chimed, "Of course, President Grayson. Please give me a moment while I prepare another cup."

Returning to the breakroom for the third time, she used her two failed attempts to meticulously calculate the water temperature as she brewed a fresh batch.

She lightly touched the side of the cup to test the heat.

This has to be right, doesn't it? It's not like I can carry a thermometer around to test his drink every single time!

Carrying the fresh cup back inside, a picture-perfect professional smile brightened her clear, delicate face. "President Grayson, your coffee."

Xavier Grayson took a quiet sip.

Chloe watched him with bated breath, her body tense.

After swallowing the sip, the man set the cup down without saying a single word.

Chloe let out a quiet sigh of relief. Just as she turned to leave, his deep voice cut through the silence.

"Prepare the materials for this afternoon's meeting and bring them to my office."

Chloe had seen it on his schedule: there was an executive board meeting scheduled for two in the afternoon.

The problem was, she had just started today! She had no idea which files he needed!

Then again, when the CEO gives an order, who would dare say no?

"Understood, President Grayson."

With a polite nod, she hustled back to her desk and threw herself into work.

Before she knew it, lunch hour had arrived. A staff member from a local five-star restaurant personally delivered Xavier Grayson's lunch, pushing a sleek dining cart down the hallway.

The deliverer was a handsome man in his mid-twenties.

"Hello, are you here with the lunch delivery?" Chloe stood up and walked over, introducing herself smoothly. "I'm the new executive secretary, Chloe Bishop."

"Ah, hello. I'm the CEO's special assistant, Ubba."

Chloe blinked. Since he already has a full-time special assistant, why on earth did he need to hire an executive secretary too?

"Secretary Bishop, I'll have to trouble you to bring his lunch inside. Just head back in after half an hour to clear the dishes."

"Sure, no problem."

Ubba offered a polite nod before turning and making his exit.

Chloe pushed the dining cart up to the heavy double doors and knocked softly.

"Come in."

Those same two terse words echoed out. Even though it wasn't her first time hearing them today, they still carried a strange, suffocating pressure.

"President Grayson, your lunch has arrived."

Xavier Grayson gave a brief grunt of acknowledgement.

Assuming her task was done, Chloe left the cart near the entrance and turned to leave. Out of the corner of his eye, Xavier Grayson noticed her movement and instantly frowned.

"You expect me to eat like this?"

Chloe paused, her mind blanking for a second. Panicking, she tentatively probed, "Do... do you need me to hand-feed you?"

Xavier Grayson’s gaze snapped directly onto her face.

If any of his previous secretaries had dared to ask such an absurdly dense question, he would have fired her on the spot.

Yet, looking straight into those clear, innocent doe eyes—eyes that practically screamed I am genuinely confused—Xavier Grayson pursed his lips tightly.

"Move it to the dining table."

Only then did Chloe realize there was an actual dining set arranged in the corner of the room.

Can you blame me?! This office is so massive you can't even take it all in with one glance!

She walked over and lifted the silver cloches covering the dishes. The moment she saw the meal spread out before her, she gasped inwardly.

This man's dining habits are ridiculously lavish.

When she returned half an hour later to clear the dishes, Xavier Grayson was already back at his desk, buried in work.

What an absolute workaholic, Chloe muttered silently to herself.

Just in the nick of time, she finally managed to put together all the required documents right before the meeting was set to begin.

Chloe hurried into the office with the stack of files. "President Grayson, here are the materials you requested."

Xavier Grayson glanced at the desk clock. "From now on, hand them over at least half an hour before the meeting starts."

"I'm so sorry, President Grayson. Today is my very first day, so—"

Chloe instinctively apologized with a flawless attitude.

"I don't need excuses," the man interrupted, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

To Xavier Grayson, things were binary: you either got the job done right, or you failed. He cared only about results, never explanations or excuses.

If it weren't for Samuel Grayson’s begging, he would have fired her for a blunder like this ages ago.

"Understood. I will make sure it doesn't happen again," Chloe replied quickly.

She knew how the corporate ladder worked—superiors only cared about the end result, not the sweat and blood it took to get there.

Once she exited his office, her schedule finally cleared up for a moment. Sitting down at her desk, she pulled out her personal phone and sent a quick message to the phone she'd left at home.

[Adrian, Sara, have you guys eaten lunch yet?]

A reply came back almost instantly, consisting of just two words:

[We ate.]

It was unmistakably Adrian's work.

Her eldest son was a boy of extremely few words. If he could wrap up a thought in two words, he would never bother using a third.

Seriously, who on earth did he inherit that trait from...?