A Little Too Familiar

Bella's POV 

Dorian looked at the figure I had pointed out, then turned back to the summary.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“I haven't decided yet.”

“That sounds reassuring.”

“Would you prefer me to invent an answer?”

“No. I'd prefer one that exists.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Good. We're off to a promising start.”

“I'm glad one of us thinks so.”

He placed the file beside his laptop. “Take it home. Review it tonight and bring me your observations tomorrow morning.”

“I thought my first day was supposed to involve learning how things work around here, not taking work home.”

“This is part of it. You'll ask better questions when you have time to read without me looking over your shoulder.”

I couldn't decide whether that was a compliment or another attempt to irritate me.

Probably both.

“Don't contact anyone about the figures yet,” he added. “If there's a simple explanation, we should establish that before involving other people.”

“Fine. I'll review it.”

I reached for the file, but he kept one hand on it for another second.

“One more thing, Bella.”

“Mr. Ashford.”

“We're alone. You don't have to sound as though you're addressing a courtroom.”

“I'm trying to maintain a professional relationship with my employer.”

“By calling him Mr. Ashford every thirty seconds?”

“I haven't done that.”

“Give it time.”

I stared at him until he released the file.

“Eight o'clock tomorrow,” he said.

“I know how to read a calendar.”

“Excellent. That should make your first assignment easier.”

I tucked the file under my arm. “Do you always make your employees work this hard on their first day?”

“Only the ones who argue with me.”

“Then I suppose I should be grateful you're making an exception.”

“I haven't decided whether I am.”

I left before he could have the last word. Unfortunately, I was smiling by the time I reached my desk.

---

I'd barely finished logging into my computer when Tessa approached with a tablet.

“Settling in all right?”

“I'm still deciding.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. Welcome officially to Ashford Technologies, Bella. It's nice to have you here.”

“Thank you. And thanks for showing me in earlier. I was too busy trying not to embarrass myself in the interview to look around properly.”

“You did better than you think.” She glanced towards Dorian's office. “If you survived your first meeting with him, you're off to a good start.”

“Is he always infuriatingly pleased with himself?”

Tessa pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. “I'll let you discover that for yourself.”

“So you admit there's something to discover.”

“I admit nothing.”

She pulled a chair beside my desk and handed me the tablet.

“I coordinate Dorian's schedule, manage his meetings, handle his executive correspondence, and make sure the people who need his attention actually get it. You'll be working closely with me, so ask if you're unsure about anything. Don't spend an hour figuring it out alone.”

“That sounds like advice from experience.”

“You have no idea.”

She walked me through Dorian's schedule, the internal contact list, and the shared drives, explaining how meetings were arranged, where documents belonged, and which requests needed his approval.

“His calendar changes throughout the day,” she warned. “And confirm meeting details before sending invitations. He hates correcting avoidable mistakes.”

“Does he hate mistakes, or does he hate telling people they've made them?”

“Both, probably.”

I laughed.

By the time we finished, my notebook was full, and I had a much clearer idea of what my job involved.

“Anything else I should know?” I asked.

“Don't assume he wants something done a particular way just because he asked for it once. If the situation changes, he expects you to use your judgment.”

“Does he explain that to everyone?”

“No. I think he assumes people will figure it out.”

“That sounds convenient for him.”

Tessa grinned. “You'll fit in just fine.”

I started working through the morning's requests. While preparing the presentation for Dorian's ten thirty meeting, I spotted two figures in the notes that didn't match the slides. I corrected the formatting and flagged both figures.

At ten fifteen, I knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

He stood by the windows, phone to his ear, and raised a finger for me to wait.

“No, renaming the same file isn't a correction. I want the actual changes made,” he said before ending the call. He turned to me. “What is it?”

“Your presentation is ready, but two figures in the notes don't match the slides.”

“Which ones?”

I showed him.

He checked both. “Good catch. Remove those figures from the summary until they're confirmed. Have the updated version ready before the meeting.”

“Of course.”

I turned towards the door.

“Bella.”

I looked back. “Yes, Mr. Ashford?”

“You don't have to ask permission every time you notice something.”

“I wasn't asking permission. I was checking whether you needed anything else.”

“Then stop looking as though you're waiting for me to tell you you've done something wrong.”

“I don't.”

“You do.”

I folded my arms. “Perhaps that's because my boss has spent the morning making it clear that he enjoys finding fault with me.”

“I've corrected you twice.”

“Three times, if we're counting the nickname.”

“That's not a correction. It's a preference.”

“Your preference.”

“Mine, yes.”

I stared at him. He looked perfectly comfortable, which only made him more irritating.

“I'll have the presentation ready,” I said.

“I know.”

His quiet certainty caught me off guard. I returned to my desk and finished the corrections, then sent him the updated presentation.