Chapter 6- first day

CHAPTER 6

ANNABELLE

The alarm hadn’t even chirped yet, but my eyes snapped open at 6:30 sharp. My stomach did a nervous little flip—that "first day" adrenaline that feels half like a celebration and half like a heart attack.

"Good morning, Mom," I said, my voice still thick with sleep as she pushed the door open.

"Good morning, my love." She crossed the room, the scent of vanilla and laundry detergent following her. "I was coming to wake you, but I should have known. This job is going to be the making of you, Annabelle."

"I hope so," I murmured, watching her head back downstairs to start breakfast.

I took my time getting ready, a ritual to steady my nerves. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail so tight it felt like a facelift—sleek, professional, untouchable. I chose a deep purple shirt that made me feel powerful and a black pencil skirt that hit just above the knee. Then came the enemies: the black heels. They were gorgeous, but within minutes of buckling them, I could already feel the pinch in my toes. Please, I prayed to the universe, don't let this be a 'standing' kind of job.

I made it downstairs exactly at 7:00. The kitchen smelled of toasted bread and fresh eggs.

"Eat up," Mom said, sliding a plate toward me. Her eyes were serious. "You’ll need your energy. And Annabelle? Be good to everyone. Keep that temper of yours on a short leash, do you hear me?"

"I hear you, Mom. Thank you for breakfast." I kissed her cheek, grabbed my bag, and headed out.

As I climbed into the Uber, I smoothed my skirt. I was from Sunnyside, yeah, but I had the degree and the drive. I didn't care if I ended up in Accounting or Marketing—as long as it was quiet, organized, and far away from the chaos of yesterday.

The Sterling building was even more intimidating up close—a monolith of glass and steel that seemed to look down on the rest of the city. My heels clicked rhythmically against the marble lobby floor as I approached the reception desk.

"Good morning," the receptionist chirped, her smile perfectly polished. "How may we help you?"

"I’m here for HR," I said, trying to sound like I belonged here.

"Eighth floor. Take the silver elevators on the left."

As the elevator doors slid shut, reflecting my anxious expression, a memory of yesterday flashed in my mind—the sharp suit, the arrogant smirk, the way he’d looked at me like I was a smudge on his windshield. Please, I whispered to myself, just let me never see him again.

But when I reached HR and the manager handed me a sealed envelope, my heart dropped. I read the bold text twice, then a third time.

"Sir, there must be a mistake," I said, my voice trembling.

"No mistake, Ms. Annabelle. Mr. Sterling personally requested this assignment."

"Why me? Why do I have to be his assistant?"

The manager just pushed a silver pen toward me. "Please sign here."

My hand shook as I scrawled my name. I wasn't just an employee anymore; I was a target.

ELIAS

"Dad, this is ridiculous," I snapped into my phone, pacing the length of my floor-to-ceiling windows. "You didn't even ask me. You just dropped her into my lap."

"I don't need to ask," my father’s voice came back, smooth and infuriatingly calm. "I know what’s best for the company, and for you."

"But she’s arrogant. She has no respect for the hierarchy."

I could hear the smirk in his laugh. "Hahaha! Listen to you. If she’s arrogant, Elias, then what are you?"

"I’m a saint," I muttered. "Innocent me."

"Anyway, she starts today. Treat her well, or you’ll answer to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Sterling," I sighed.

He hung up, leaving me in the silence of my office. I looked at the empty desk through the glass partition. If my father wanted me to work with a firebrand from Sunnyside, fine. But she was in my world now. I was going to show her exactly who held the leash.

ANNABELLE

The assistant's office was a glass cage. I could see into his office—vast, cold, and smelling of expensive sandalwood and power—but the blinds were drawn tight.

I knocked. Silence. I knocked again, harder, the wood vibrating under my knuckles.

"Come in," a voice called out. It wasn't a greeting; it was a command.

I stepped inside. Elias was framed by the sunlight hitting the windows behind him, making him look like some dark deity. He didn't look up from his tablet.

"Do you intend to break my door down on day one?"

"I knocked. You didn't respond," I said, my voice clipped. I refused to let him see me sweat, even though the air conditioning was set to a crisp 18°C.

"Good morning, sir," I added with a forced sweetness. "I’m reporting for duty as your new P.A."

He finally looked up, his eyes trailing over me with a calculated slowness. "Wow. Why you of all people?"

"Trust me," I snapped, leaning over his desk. "I don't want to be here either. Working for a jerk who thinks his last name makes him a king? Not my idea of a dream job. Your father is a gentleman; you're just... arrogant."

Elias stood up slowly, his presence suddenly filling the room. "You—"

"Oh, sorry," I interrupted, pouting with mock sympathy. "Did I reveal your big secret?"

He took a step toward me, his voice dropping to a dangerous, silky low. "I see you’re full of words. Let’s see how many you have left after my rules. Miss a single one, and you’re fired. Clear?"

I nodded, my jaw tight.

"I need verbal confirmation. Are you dumb, or just slow?"

"Yes. Sir. Clear."

"Rule one: You speak when spoken to. Rule two: Punctuality is my religion. One minute late, you're gone. Rule three: My coffee must be exactly 82°C. No milk. If I see a drop of white in that cup, you're out. Rule four: my coffee is on my desk at 8:30 sharp."

He checked his watch, a wicked glint in his eye. "It’s 8:20 now. Go make it."

I stared at him, my blood beginning to boil. "Sir, I’ve been here for five minutes. I don't know where the kitchen is."

He leaned in, his face inches from mine, mocking me. "What, do you want me to make it on my head?"

I didn't blink. I didn't back away. Instead, I took a deliberate step closer, closing the gap until I could see the golden flecks in his dark eyes.

"If that’s where you’d like it, sir," I whispered, "I can certainly try."