CHAPTER 8 ~ CEO

ALEXANDRA’S POV

I stepped off the crowded train car and walked slowly up the concrete stairs toward the busy street level. The freezing morning wind pushed aggressively against my heavy black wool coat as I walked two long blocks down the crowded Chicago sidewalk. I finally reached the front entrance of the Volkov Industries corporate headquarters. The massive skyscraper stood ninety stories tall, constructed entirely out of highly reflective glass panels and dark steel beams. I pushed the heavy revolving glass doors with my hands and entered the massive, brightly lit main lobby of the building.

Dozens of corporate employees wearing expensive tailored suits walked rapidly across the polished marble floor. I reached into my leather purse, pulled out my plastic intern badge, and scanned the printed barcode at the electronic security turnstile. The metal security gates beeped loudly and opened automatically to let me pass through to the elevator bank. I walked directly to the row of silver elevator doors and stepped inside an empty car. I pushed the round metal button for the forty-second floor. The elevator carried me upward at a rapid speed, and my stomach twisted with deep, painful anxiety. I stared at the digital floor numbers changing on the screen above the door, absolutely terrified that Maximilian would be waiting for me when the metal doors finally opened.

The elevator chimed, and the doors slid apart to reveal the loud, brightly lit data analytics department. I looked around the large room immediately. Maximilian was not standing in the hallway, and he was not waiting by the reception desk. I let out a long, heavy breath of physical relief and walked past several rows of gray employee cubicles. I reached my small desk situated in the far back corner of the large room. I took off my heavy wool coat, draped the fabric over the back of my rolling office chair, and sat down on the padded cushion. I reached forward and pressed the power button on my computer monitor to begin my workday.

Before the digital screen could fully load the login page, my desk neighbor pushed her chair across the carpeted floor and stopped right next to me. Jessica was a junior data analyst who loved to share office rumors and discuss corporate politics. She held a warm white ceramic cup of coffee in her right hand and stared directly at my new professional clothing.

"Good morning, Alexandra," Jessica said, leaning forward and lowering her voice to a quiet whisper so the other employees could not hear her. "You are wearing a completely brand new outfit today. That navy blue pencil skirt looks incredibly expensive, and the white silk blouse fits your curves perfectly. Did you win the lottery over the weekend?"

I felt a nervous, warm blush spread rapidly across my cheeks. I quickly arranged my black ink pens on my desk to avoid looking directly into her eyes. "Good morning, Jessica. I did not win the lottery. I just decided to buy a few new professional clothing pieces for the office. I wanted to update my wardrobe so I look more presentable during the department meetings."

Jessica took a slow sip of her hot coffee and nodded her head. "Well, you picked a very good day to look highly professional. The entire executive floor is in a state of absolute panic this morning. Our department manager, Mr. Harrison, has been yelling aggressively at the senior male analysts inside his glass office since seven o'clock."

I stopped arranging my pens and looked directly at her face. "Why is Mr. Harrison yelling at the senior analysts? Did something go wrong with the weekly financial data reports?"

"Something went horribly wrong," Jessica explained, her eyes widening with dramatic excitement. "The senior analysts completely ruined the predictive financial algorithm for the upcoming corporate acquisition. They presented the flawed data directly to the Chief Executive Officer an hour ago. Apparently, Mr. Volkov realized the numbers were completely inaccurate within five minutes of reading the file, and he became incredibly angry. He demanded a full correction by noon today, but the senior men cannot figure out where they made the mathematical error. They are terrified of losing their high-paying jobs."

I turned my attention back to my computer monitor. I typed my password into the security screen and opened the shared corporate network drive. I desperately needed a complex task to distract my anxious brain from thinking about the traumatic events involving David and Chloe. I also needed to stop thinking about the intense, obsessive way Maximilian looked at me during breakfast in his penthouse.

"I am going to look at the financial algorithm right now," I told Jessica softly, clicking my computer mouse to open the massive spreadsheet file from the shared network folder. "I want to see if I can find the mathematical error."

"You are very brave," Jessica replied, rolling her chair back toward her own desk and setting her coffee cup down next to her keyboard. "Do not let Mr. Harrison catch you fixing their mistakes. He hates it when the young female interns prove the older senior analysts wrong."

I ignored her warning entirely and focused my complete vision on the glowing computer monitor. The spreadsheet contained over ten thousand rows of complex numerical data and automated calculating formulas. I placed my fingers over the mechanical keyboard and began scrolling rapidly down the screen. I analyzed the columns of revenue projections, expense reports, and market variables. I loved working with pure mathematics because numbers always provided a logical, honest answer. They never lied, and they never manipulated my emotions.

I spent the next two hours completely absorbed in the data on the screen. I read the long programming codes and verified the mathematical equations line by line. I ignored the loud ringing of the office telephones and the constant chatter of the other employees. Suddenly, I stopped scrolling my computer mouse. I found the exact problem hidden deep within the code. The senior analysts had completely miscalculated the depreciation value of the target company's physical manufacturing assets, which drastically skewed the final profit prediction for the entire corporate buyout.

I opened a blank coding window on my screen. I typed a long, complex mathematical formula to correct the depreciation variable and linked the new code directly to the master algorithm. I pressed the enter key on my keyboard. The entire spreadsheet instantly recalculated the numbers, displaying the correct, highly profitable financial margin at the very bottom of the page. I felt a massive surge of genuine pride expand inside my chest. I had successfully solved a massive corporate problem that the highly paid senior men could not figure out. I proved to myself that I genuinely deserved my position in this prestigious company based entirely on my intelligence, and not on my physical appearance or my connection to a wealthy man.

Suddenly, the loud typing and talking across the entire data department stopped completely. The large room became incredibly quiet. I looked up from my computer screen and saw Mr. Harrison walking rapidly out of his private glass office. My strict department manager looked completely pale, and visible sweat gathered on his forehead. He bypassed the desks of the senior analysts and walked directly toward my small corner cubicle.

My heart beat rapidly against my ribcage. I pulled my hands away from my keyboard and sat perfectly still in my rolling chair. Mr. Harrison stopped right in front of my desk and looked down at me with wide, panicked eyes. He held a black desk phone tightly in his right hand.

"Alexandra, I need you to stop typing on your computer immediately," Mr. Harrison commanded loudly, his nervous voice carrying clearly across the completely silent room for every single employee to hear. "You need to stand up, gather your data reports, and walk to the private executive elevators right now. The Chief Executive Officer just called my office directly, and he specifically demanded that you bring your work up to his private top-floor office immediately."