The Man Behind the Door

Zara Harper

I left the hotel room with shaking legs and a hollow feeling in my chest. My heels clicked against the marble hallway, mocking me with every step. I didn't know whether to cry or scream, so I did neither, I just walked. Fast. As though I could leave what happened behind me if I moved quickly enough.

The elevator doors closed, sealing the night away. My reflection stared back at me, smudged lipstick, eyes tired but defiant. I’d done it. I’d slept with a stranger for money. For my mother’s medicine. My dignity was crumpled, but she was all I had. I had no choice.

When I got home, I dropped my bag and collapsed onto the couch. My throat tightened. I couldn’t breathe properly. The room felt too quiet, like even the air was judging me. I pulled off the gown  his hands had been on it just hours ago, and tossed it to the floor. I climbed into the shower and turned on the water, scrubbing at my skin until it turned red.

Only after, when I wrapped a towel around myself and reached for my bag to toss it aside, did I notice something tucked in the inner flap. A white envelope. I completely forgot for a second about the money he gave me.

I pulled it open with trembling fingers.

$5000.

Five thousand dollars in crisp hundreds, stacked like salvation. He added an extra $2000, my heart jumped, I didn't even get to know his name. I didn't know whether to be happy or disgusted with my self. I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the money. It didn’t feel real. I could pay off our rent for the next month. I could finally buy Mum’s meds. The pressure in my chest loosened, just a little. I was grateful for what the extra money could do.

I grabbed my phone and dialed the only person who would understand.

“Hello?” Jules voice came through, groggy. Probably asleep.

“It’s me,” I whispered.

“You okay?” She was wide awake now. “Zara, talk to me.”

“I did it.” My voice cracked. “It’s done. He gave me five thousand dollars.”

There was silence. Then, “Are you okay?”

“No.” I laughed through the tears. “But I’m better than I was. I can finally get the drugs.”

“Zara…” Her voice softened. “You did what you had to. It doesn’t define you. Just... promise me you’ll never do it again.”

I found it funny because she was the one who sent the link to me, I smiled before I told her “I won’t. God, never again.”

And I meant it.

I slept in that day, really slept. For the first time in weeks. When I woke up, the sun was already high, pouring through the curtains like forgiveness. I stretched, groggy, and checked my phone out of habit. One unread email.

Subject: Job Interview Invitation.

I blinked twice, sat up straight, and read it again.

Position: Secretary to the CEO, Sterling International Holdings.

Interview Date: Friday, 9:00 a.m.

Sterling. That sounded… big.

I nearly dropped the phone in excitement. I scrambled to forward it to Jules, who called me two seconds later with a scream loud enough to crack my speaker.

“Girl! This is it! This is the one!”

“I know, right?” I laughed. Really laughed. "I hope I get the job though"

Two days later, I walked into the glass building with my heart in my throat. It was towering, all silver and shine and intimidating beauty. People moved with purpose, dressed like they belonged in some expensive magazine spread.

The interview was formal but quick. They asked about my past experience, computer literacy, time management. Though I was scared, I answered confidently, I had a first class degree in business management and I was smart with my answers .

I got the call later that night.

I got the job.

I screamed. I danced barefoot in the apartment. I told Jules, I told my mum, who smiled through her pain and said, “Finally, something good.” And then, I went to tell Bill.

Bill had owned the coffee shop where I’d worked for the past year. Sixty-seven, always in buttoned cardigans too big for him and glasses that never stayed on his nose. He’d treated me like a granddaughter more than an employee.

He sat behind the counter when I walked in.

“I got the job,” I said, unable to contain my grin.

He looked up over his glasses, his eyes lighting up. “You did?”

“Secretary. Big office. I start Monday.”

Bill came around the counter and hugged me. “I’m proud of you, kid.”

“I’ll visit,” I said, suddenly emotional.

“You better. Or I’ll call HR and complain.” He chuckled, though his eyes were watery.

Monday came really fast.

I dressed in my best, a navy blouse and ironed slacks that Jules helped me pick. I stood in front of the mirror, smoothed down my hair, and whispered to my reflection, “You’ve got this.”

The Sterling building was even more intimidating now that I worked there. Everything gleamed. Glass elevators, pristine marble floors, people walking like they ran the world. Maybe they did.

A woman with sleek grey streaked hair met me in the lobby. “You must be Zara Harper.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Call me Angela. I’m the senior executive assistant. I’ll show you around.”

Angela had the calm, polished air of someone who'd seen everything and wasn’t impressed by much. She walked me through the different departments, finance, acquisitions, PR, all buzzing with activity.

“Sterling International owns more subsidiaries than I can count,” she said. “Everything from tech to real estate to private aviation.”

I blinked. “Wow.”

She smiled. “Your office is just outside the CEO’s. You’ll be his direct secretary. That means you handle scheduling, correspondence, his coffee, and anything else he deems necessary.” I hope you understand..

I nodded, soaking it in.

“One word of advice,” she added as we approached the glass-walled executive floor. “Mr. Alexander Sterling is brilliant but... particular. He doesn’t tolerate mistakes. Or lateness. Or coffee that’s not made just right.”

I swallowed hard. “Understood.”

She gave me a once-over, approving. “You look smart. You should be fine.”

We turned a corner and entered a sleek hallway. At the very end stood a large, dark wood door. Angela gestured to the minimalist desk across from it. “That’s your workspace.”

I looked around. The office was spotless, cold in its perfection. Everything in glass and metal and neutral tones. I placed my bag gently on the desk.

Angela continued, “He’ll be in shortly. You should...”

Her words faded into white noise as the door behind me opened.

I turned. Slowly.

He walked in like he owned the world, because he did. The same commanding presence. The same strong jaw. The same glint in his eyes. Alexander Sterling.

My breath stopped. My heart slammed into my ribs. I froze.

It was him.

The man from the hotel. The man who had fucked me like he was trying to leave a mark on my soul was my boss.