CHAPTER VII: The Uninvited Welcome

I spent the rest of Monday alternating between pacing the apartment, trying to burn off the anxious energy Sebastian Schulz had ignited, and compulsively checking my email. The silence from CazoS Enterprise was deafening, magnified by the enormous, empty apartment.

Did he hate me so much that he wouldn't even let his receptionist call me?

The idea that the job, my first genuine step toward independence, might be ruined by a brief, petty argument over an elevator was maddening. I knew I should have been more submissive, more secretary-like, but the man’s sheer arrogance had simply triggered my own innate, rebellious streak—the same streak that hated being pampered.

The next day, Tuesday, passed much the same way. I tried to distract myself with dance practice, throwing myself into routines until my muscles screamed in protest, but even the familiar rhythm of movement couldn't silence the anxiety.

Finally, late Tuesday afternoon, my phone rang. I dropped the towel I was holding and lunged for the device, my heart slamming against my ribs. It was an unknown number, but I snatched it up immediately.

“Hello?” My voice was breathy and strained.

“Ms. Mcfeller?” The voice was Zoey’s, the receptionist, her tone slightly muffled, as if she were speaking into her hand. “It’s Zoey from CazoS Enterprise. Mr. Schulz has made his decision.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable rejection. "Yes, Zoey. What is it?"

“Congratulations, Ms. Mcfeller. You got the job.”

The sheer relief was so overwhelming I almost laughed. “Oh my God! Thank you! Thank you so much, Zoey!”

“You’re welcome. Your start date is next Monday. Mr. Schulz requires you to be in the office at exactly 6:00 A.M. and not a minute later. Your schedule for the next six months is being sent to your personal email, and your access credentials will be ready for pickup at the main lobby on Monday morning. Please note: tardiness is not tolerated. Understood?”

“Understood! I will be there at six sharp!” I promised, my excitement soaring. He hired me! Despite the elevator fiasco, despite my snarky answer, despite my lack of traceable employment history, the devil had hired me.

“One more thing, Ms. Mcfeller,” Zoey continued, her voice dropping lower, sounding conspiratorial. “The CEO does not like surprises. Ever. And he does not like his space invaded. Ever. Just… be careful.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Zoey,” I said, hanging up with a giddy sigh.

The excitement was quickly tempered by the realization of whose space I would be invading every day. Sebastian Schulz. The arrogant tyrant. But he was my ticket out, and I would tolerate the tyranny for my independence.

---

The rest of the week was a blur of preparation. I bought new, professional clothes—sensible suits that screamed efficiency, not wealth. I mentally rehearsed answers to every potential executive request. I researched CazoS Enterprise's recent acquisitions, attempting to learn everything about the titan Sebastian had built.

I avoided calling my family, knowing my parents would instantly detect the forced cheerfulness in my voice and try to sabotage my move. My friends, however, were ecstatic, demanding a celebratory night out on Sunday.

Sunday night, after a quiet evening with Haines, Claude, and Emmaline, I returned to my apartment feeling grounded and ready. I set three alarms: 4:30 A.M., 4:45 A.M., and 5:00 A.M. Six sharp meant not 5:59 A.M.

---

I arrived at the CazoS Enterprise lobby at 5:45 A.M., dressed impeccably, my nerves humming with a professional buzz. I was fifteen minutes early, and the lobby was almost eerily empty.

Zoey was already at the front desk, looking surprised. “Wow, Ms. Mcfeller! Fifteen minutes early. Impressive start.”

I smiled. “I was instructed to be prompt.”

I collected my credentials—a sleek black access card with my new alias, Audrey Mcfeller—and was instructed on the protocols for accessing the executive floor. The 'separate, unmarked elevator' I had fought for was, indeed, the only way up for executive staff.

Zoey nodded me toward the security area. “Mr. Schulz arrived about ten minutes ago. Go straight up. He should be in his office.”

As the elevator ascended, my calm façade began to crack. The memory of his furious face—the bulging veins, the possessive claim over the elevator—came back sharply. Sebastian Schulz was a volatile variable, and I was about to be his constant, unavoidable presence.

The elevator doors opened onto a floor that was the epitome of reserved luxury. Dark wood, hushed lighting, and a few sleek, modern art pieces. The air was silent, save for the faint hum of electronics.

His office was exactly as I remembered: enormous, intimidating, and positioned to broadcast power. I walked to the massive double doors, took a deep breath, and knocked precisely three times.

“Come in.” The command was short, sharp, and immediate.

I stepped inside. Sebastian was sitting at his desk, already surrounded by spreadsheets and monitors, looking every bit the ruthless CEO. He didn't look up immediately.

“Good morning, Mr. Schulz,” I said, my voice steady and professional.

He finally raised his eyes, and the familiar blaze of coldness hit me. He was wearing an obsidian-black suit today, making him look less like a man and more like a statue carved from midnight stone.

“You’re on time, Ms. Mcfeller. A novelty,” he stated, his voice laced with faint mockery. “Most people mistake punctuality for a suggestion.” He pushed a folder across the desk. “Your first task. We have a hostile takeover scheduled for the end of the week. I need this data categorized by revenue impact and risk assessment. I want the compiled report, complete with color-coded charts, on my desk by noon. No mistakes. No questions. You understand?”

The task was dense and complex, something that would take a normal analyst an entire day, but the challenge thrilled me. This wasn't about filing or fetching coffee; it was about the raw engine of his empire.

“Understood, Mr. Schulz. By noon,” I affirmed, picking up the heavy folder.

“Good. Your office is through that door,” he said, pointing to a discreet door set into the wall behind his desk, right next to the massive glass window. “It connects directly to mine. You have your own exit to the hallway. Do not, under any circumstances, use my private exit. Do not touch anything on my desk without explicit instruction. And do not interrupt me unless the building is on fire or a client is threatening legal action. Is that clear, Ms. Mcfeller?”

“Perfectly clear, Sir.”

He returned to his work without another word, dismissing me entirely. I walked through the indicated door and found my own workspace. It was smaller than his, but still spacious, dominated by a large desk and two monitors. And, crucially, it offered the exact same stunning, high-altitude view of Manhattan.

I sat down, opened the folder, and went to work, determined to prove that Audrey was worthy of this opportunity, regardless of Khloe’s past. The silence of the executive floor was broken only by the sharp click of my keyboard and the faint, low ring of Sebastian’s private line next door—a sound he instantly silenced.

I knew, with absolute certainty, that working for Sebastian Schulz was going to be the most challenging, infuriating, and necessary thing I had ever done. The golden handcuffs were off, replaced by the steel grip of the arrogant CEO. And I wouldn't have it any other way.