If hell had a Monday version, it would look exactly like my second day at Reed Industries.
I arrived ten minutes early — which, in Alexander Reed Logic™, probably still counted as "barely acceptable."
The moment I reached my desk, his voice echoed from his office:
"Miss Carter. My schedule?"
Ah yes.
Good morning to you too, Your Royal Highness of Emotional Damage.
I grabbed my tablet, marched in, and handed it to him. He took it without looking up, but his eyes flicked toward me for a split second — that unreadable gray gaze that always made my brain forget how lungs worked.
"Your hair is a mess," he said.
I blinked. "Wow. Starting strong today, I see."
He didn't even flinch. "I have a meeting with the board at nine. Fix it before you join."
"Fix… my hair?" I echoed.
"Yes," he said calmly, typing away. "You represent my office. Appear presentable."
"I am presentable," I argued.
He glanced up again. "You look like you fought with a pillow and lost."
Okay, that hurt.
Mostly because it was true.
I gritted my teeth, smoothed my hair with my hand, and muttered, "Happy now?"
A faint smirk tugged at his lips — the kind that spelled nothing but danger.
"Much," he said.
And because the universe hates me, that was the exact moment the intercom buzzed.
"Sir," Ms. Harper from HR said, "the board members are arriving."
Alex stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "Miss Carter. With me."
Oh joy. More chances to embarrass myself in front of powerful strangers.
---
The Boardroom of Doom
The boardroom was massive — floor-to-ceiling windows, a long glossy table, and enough leather chairs to host a villain convention.
I took my spot beside Alex, trying to look like a competent professional and not a nervous ex-girlfriend forced into corporate cosplay.
The meeting started smoothly — discussions about numbers, projections, future expansions.
I typed notes quickly, doing my best to keep up.
Then a board member turned to me.
"Miss Carter, can you pull up last quarter's summary?"
"Yes, sir," I said confidently.
I clicked. And clicked. And—
Nothing.
The file refused to open.
Alex's eyes slid to me, slow and deadly.
Danger level: imminent world-ending glare.
My soul left my body and hovered somewhere above the table.
"I—I have it, one moment," I stammered, tapping randomly like my fingers had independent panic-driven motivations.
"Miss Carter," he said quietly. Too quietly.
I gulped. "Yes, Mr. Reed?"
He leaned close, voice low enough for only me to hear. "Breathe."
That one word did more damage than a full lecture. My face warmed instantly as I forced myself to inhale.
The file finally opened.
"There we go!" I blurted too loudly. Everyone stared.
Kill me. Throw me out the window. Feed me to corporate sharks.
Alex, surprisingly, didn't look annoyed.
If anything… he looked amused.
---
The Aftermath
When the meeting ended, I nearly sprinted out of the room, but Alex caught my wrist — gently, but firmly enough to stop me.
"Relax," he said. "You did fine."
Fine.
FINE?
I nearly had a public meltdown in a room full of billionaires.
I frowned up at him. "You're not… angry?"
He raised a brow. "Should I be?"
"Based on history? Probably."
That earned something rare — a soft, genuine smile.
"Luna," he said, "I wouldn't have hired you if I didn't believe you could handle this."
My heart tripped over itself.
No, absolutely not. Heart, sit down. Stay still.
"That sounded dangerously close to a compliment," I said.
"Don't get used to it," he quipped.
Ah. There it is. Balance restored.
---
Lunch Break That Wasn't a Break
At noon, I finally sat down to eat when Alex opened his door and said:
"Miss Carter. With me."
"For lunch?" I asked.
"No," he replied flatly, already walking away. "For disaster control."
Lovely.
Turns out, a client had shown up unannounced, furious about a postponed partnership. Alex walked into the meeting room with the confidence of a man who knew he owned the building.
I walked in with the energy of someone who hadn't finished her sandwich.
The client pointed at Alex.
"This delay is unacceptable!"
Alex nodded calmly. "Understood."
Then he pointed at me.
"And who is this?"
Before I could answer, Alex spoke.
"My assistant," he said.
And then, unexpectedly: "And someone I trust."
I froze.
The room froze.
Trust?
Trust?
Did he just say—??
I somehow managed to do my job without combusting, and we left the meeting with the client satisfied.
Back in the hallway, I looked at him suspiciously.
"You trust me?" I asked.
He stopped walking.
Turned slightly.
"I always did," he said quietly.
My chest tightened.
Memories I didn't want resurfaced — nights we stayed up late talking, mornings he'd brush my hair off my face, the way he used to look at me like I was the center of his universe.
But those days were gone.
Right?
---
End of Day Disaster #27
At 4:30, I tripped over a stack of folders and nearly fell face-first into the carpet.
Alex caught me.
Of course he did. Because embarrassing moments are his catnip.
His hand was warm on my waist, too warm for a sane work environment.
"You need to be more careful," he murmured.
"I need this day to end," I muttered.
He chuckled — a soft, low sound that did not help my heartbeat.
"Go home, Luna."
"I still have tasks—"
"Tomorrow," he said.
Firm, final.
But gentle in a way that made my heart do questionable things.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the elevator.
As the doors closed, our eyes met one last time.
And I knew.
Today changed something.
Not much.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
Enough to make danger feel tempting.
Enough to make my heart misbehave.
Enough to whisper that maybe, just maybe…
Working for my ex wasn't the worst mistake I've ever made.
It might actually be the beginning of my next one.
If there was one thing Reed Industries was known for, it was excellence.
If there was one thing I was known for, it was being a magnet for chaos.
Naturally, this meant my second day on the job started with me spilling coffee on myself at exactly 8:02 a.m.
Perfect.
I rushed through the lobby, dabbing the stain on my blouse while mumbling, "It's fine, Luna. You are a strong woman. Coffee can't defeat you. Your ex definitely won't defeat you."
The security guard gave me a weird look. I ignored him. Survival required delusion.
---
The Elevator of Regret
As the elevator doors closed, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and gave myself a pep talk in the shiny reflection.
"You are capable. You are organized. You are not going to let a man who wears expensive suits intimid—"
DING.
The doors opened…
And of course, Alex was standing right there.
Of course.
His gaze swept over me from head to toe, pausing at the coffee stain like it personally offended him.
"You're early," he said.
"I had… motivation."
"Did the motivation attack your shirt?"
I forced a smile. "It's called fashion, sir. You wouldn't understand."
He stepped inside the elevator with me, way too close for my sanity.
"I understand messes," he murmured. "I've had to clean up yours before."
"Oh?" I said sweetly. "Like when you broke up with me over text? That was a pretty big mess."
His jaw tightened. "We're at work, Miss Carter."
"And we're in an elevator, Mr. Reed," I snapped back.
"Neutral territory."
For a moment, we stared at each other, the tension thick enough to slice.
Then the elevator dinged again, saving us both.
Thank you, elevator gods.
---
The Meeting From Hell
By 10 a.m., I was juggling three schedules, two reports, and one extremely judgmental boss.
Alex called me into his office without looking up from his laptop.
"Miss Carter, did you finalize the revisions for the Alvarez contract?"
"Yes," I said proudly. "Just emailed them."
He finally looked up, lips tilting. "Good. Now redo them."
I blinked. "Redo?"
"You used Times New Roman."
"So?"
"I hate Times New Roman."
I threw my hands up. "It's a font, Alex—"
He raised a brow slowly.
"—sir," I corrected.
He leaned back in his chair. "Fonts matter."
"They really don't."
"Everything matters."
I stared at him, biting my tongue, because he looked so smug and so annoyingly handsome that it felt illegal.
"Fine," I muttered. "I'll change the life-changing font."
As I turned to leave, his voice softened.
"Luna."
I paused.
"You're doing good work."
My heart did a backflip, a cartwheel, and possibly a dramatic faint.
"Oh," I said. "Uh. Thanks."
Smooth, Luna. Very professional.
---
Lunch Break… Interrupted
I ate lunch with Mia on video call, hiding in the break room like a fugitive.
"So?" Mia asked. "Is he still hot?"
"MIA."
"What? Answer the question."
I groaned. "He's… annoyingly attractive."
"So you still like him."
"I didn't say that!"
"You didn't deny it."
Before I could respond, the break room door opened.
Alex.
Of course.
He looked at me, then at my phone, then back at me.
"Miss Carter," he said calmly. "When you're done gossiping about me, I need you in my office."
My jaw dropped open. "I— we weren't— it's just—"
Mia smirked from the screen. "Hi, Mr. Reed!"
He nodded stiffly. "Hello."
I wanted the refrigerator to fall on me.
---
A Moment I Wasn't Ready For
Back in his office, I avoided eye contact, cheeks burning.
He tapped his pen. "Relax. I didn't come here to fire you."
"That's comforting," I muttered.
He slid a folder toward me. "I need this drafted by 4 p.m."
I reached for it, but so did he.
For a moment, our fingers brushed.
A spark.
A literal spark ran up my arm.
He froze.
I froze.
The room suddenly felt warmer.
His voice dropped, barely above a whisper.
"You should be careful."
"Why?" I whispered back.
His eyes held mine—calm, unreadable, dangerous.
"Because getting close to me never ends well."
My breath caught.
He pulled his hand back instantly, expression shuttering.
"4 p.m.," he said firmly. "Don't be late."
Just like that, the moment vanished.
---
The End of the Day… Or So I Thought
At 5:30 p.m., I finally packed my things.
My heart was exhausted.
My brain was exhausted.
My soul? Definitely exhausted.
As I stepped out into the hallway, Alex called out:
"Luna."
I turned.
He stood by his doorway, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened — unfairly attractive and unaware of it.
"You did well today," he said quietly.
My chest tightened. "Thanks."
"Get home safe."
There it was again.
That look.
Soft. Warm. Familiar.
The look he only used to give me when we still belonged to each other.
I nodded and walked away before I could say—or feel—something stupid.
---
And Later That Night…
Mia called me again.
"So… how's hot boss?"
I threw a pillow at the screen. "I hate him."
"You do not."
I sighed, collapsing on my bed.
"I don't know what I feel."
"That," Mia said wisely, "is exactly how romance starts."
I groaned.
Because she might be right.
And that scared me more than anything.