Chapter Five: A Fire in the Cold Room

Keegan's POV

Yesterday’s elevator disaster kept replaying in my head like a bad song.

I had been trying to get to my car without dealing with anyone, just a quick ride down in my private elevator. Then this woman marched in like she owned the damn thing.

For one single, stupid second, I was stunned. She was striking with a unique eye color, confident posture and the kind of presence that demanded attention whether you wanted to give it or not.

She didn’t even hesitate, she just slammed her leg in the door, stepped inside, and started talking.

My brain actually short-circuited. Then reality slammed back in. I couldn’t be close to anyone so I shouted at her to get out. Most people would have bolted, but she didn’t. She called me crazy to my face and even had the nerve to say I was handsome.

Too bad you’re crazy, because you’re actually handsome.

The nerve.

I shook the memory away as I sat at my desk on the raised platform. I had already taken my extra antihistamines and put on fresh gloves and made sure everything was sanitized and under control.

Until she walked in.

The double doors opened and there she was , Nara Quinn. The same girl from the elevator.

The shock in her eyes was almost funny. Almost.

She started apologizing, something about a bad breakup and a bad day, but I wasn’t really listening. All I could think was: This loud, fearless woman is my new assistant? The one who’s supposed to follow hundred pages of rules? This is going to be a disaster.

When I made her go sit on the couch and read the entire document package, I expected her to complain more, but she just sat down, crossed her legs, and opened her phone.

After five minutes passed, I glanced down at her. “Are you done?”

She looked up slowly with narrowed eyes. “Done? I’m still on the first page. Are you serious right now?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You read slow.”

“Or you gave me hundred pages of rules like a damn dictator,” she shot back under her breath, but I heard it.

The corner of my mouth almost twitched. Almost. Instead I leaned back in my chair and went back to my emails.

Ten minutes later I checked again.“Are you done?”

She pressed her lips together. “I’m on page five, Mr Blackwood. When I'm done, I'll be sure to let you know.”

I didn’t answer and just let the silence stretch.

The minutes dragged into hours as we both worked in silence. I worked on my laptop, answered urgent messages, and watched her from the corner of my eye. She kept shifting on the couch, rubbing her forehead, muttering things I couldn’t quite hear. Every now and then she’d glare up at me like she wanted to throw the phone at my head.

I kind of liked it.

Most assistants I had before were quiet, nervous, and gone within two weeks. This one looked like she wanted to fight me.

Interesting.

She finally stood up after nearly three hours and stretched her arms above her head, her blouse pulling tight for a moment against her curves and I avert my eyes before she dropped her arms .

“I’m done,” she announced. “I read every page. Happy now?”

I looked at her for a long moment as I noticed loose strands of hair had fallen around her face. She looked tired but still full of fire and that same striking energy from the elevator was still there, crackling under her skin.

“Good,” I said. “There’s a reason you don’t bring files up the steps. You don’t come near me. Ever. There’s a delivery slot on the side of the platform. You put documents in there and the system brings them up to me automatically. This is a tech company, Miss Quinn.”

She gave a fake smile. “Noted Mr Blackwood.”

She muttered something that sounded like “unbelievable” but didn’t argue further.

I continued, “Your first task is I need a full report on the three companies we’re looking at acquiring. Summarize their financials, red flags, and potential. All the data is in the shared drive and I want it in the slot by EOD.”

She blinked twice. “EOD? As in End of the day?”

I cocked my head to the side. "I'm not sure of another meaning in this context, Ms Quinn."

She spluttered. "B-but that's—-"

“And one more thing,” I interrupt. “You speak when I ask you to. You don’t ask personal questions, you don’t try to be funny and you do your job and stay out of my way.”

She stared at me for a second too long and I could tell she was biting back a hundred comebacks, instead she gave me a tight smile. “Got it, sir.”

She turned and walked toward the side table where the files were. As she reached for them, one of the folders slipped from her hands and dropped. She bent down quickly to pick it up.

At the same moment, I stood up to grab a different file from my desk.

Our eyes met again across the room and for some reason, my chest felt strange. It felt tight but not in the usual bad way.

She straightened up with the files in her arms. “Anything else?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out right away.

My private phone buzzed sharply on the desk, I glanced at the screen and immediately stifled a groan.

Isabella.

I stared at the name for a beat longer than I should have, then slipped the phone into my pocket without opening the message. I sat back down slowly, a slight headache already forming.

The day had only just started, and it was already spiraling.