Maya arrived at Titan Digital Systems the next morning with fifteen minutes to spare.
She had woken up two hours earlier than necessary—mostly from nerves, partly because she was terrified of breaking Rule #3: No lateness. After yesterday's chaotic introduction to working under Adrian Blackwood, she'd promised herself she would never let him find a reason to call her slow again.
The lobby was quieter at this early hour. A few employees rushed through with coffee cups and bags slung over their shoulders, but the usual storm of people hadn't yet begun.
As she approached the elevator, the receptionist from the previous day gave her a long, unreadable look. "Back again," she said.
Maya offered a tight smile. "Yes. Day two."
"Hmm," the receptionist murmured, almost knowingly. "We'll see."
Maya didn't know if that was encouragement or a warning.
When the elevator doors opened and she stepped in, she pressed the button for the 48th floor and glanced at her reflection in the mirrored interior.
Black pencil skirt. Soft silk blouse. A blazer she'd ironed twice. Hair neatly pulled back. She'd done everything she could to look like she belonged here.
But nothing could quiet the fluttering anxiety in her stomach.
The elevator chimed as it reached Adrian's floor. The doors slid open with their soft whisper, and Maya stepped into the quiet corridor.
A different assistant was waiting for her today—a tall man with a sharp jawline and an even sharper suit.
"You're the new girl," he said, glancing at his tablet. "Maya Benson."
"Yes, that's me."
"I'm Jonathan. Mr. Blackwood asked me to brief you before he arrives."
Maya blinked. "He isn't here yet?"
"No. He comes in at exactly eight. Never earlier. Never later."
"How precise."
Jonathan raised a brow. "You're working for Adrian Blackwood. Precision is the bare minimum."
He gestured for her to follow, and she did, mentally preparing herself. Jonathan stopped beside a sleek workstation just outside Adrian's office door.
"This will be your desk," he explained. "You'll handle all incoming communication, keep track of his schedule, process documents, manage his calls, and anticipate his needs before he voices them."
"Before he… voices them?" Maya repeated.
"You'll learn," he said simply.
She tried not to let panic show in her face.
Jonathan tapped her tablet. "Now, about the rules—"
"Oh, I have them here." Maya pulled out the black notebook Adrian had given her yesterday.
Jonathan's lips curved. "I see he gave you the infamous rulebook."
"Infamous?"
He chuckled softly. "You're the fifth assistant this quarter."
Maya's heart dropped. "What happened to the others?"
"Overwhelmed. Overworked. Over-it." Jonathan lifted a shoulder. "Blackwood demands perfection, and most people don't survive long under that level of pressure."
"I will," Maya said before she could think.
Jonathan stared at her for a beat, then nodded slowly. "Good. You're going to need that determination."
Before she could ask more, he stepped back. "Head into his office. He wants you to set up before he arrives."
Maya inhaled. Exhaled. Walked forward.
The office was exactly as cold and imposing as she remembered—massive windows, clean lines, black-marble desk, and not a single personal item in sight. Not even a framed photo.
She placed her bag down and surveyed the space. Her job was to prepare everything before Adrian walked in:
— Turn on the wall screens
— Review his schedule
— Organize today's files
— Prepare his digital briefing
— Check the board alerts
— Bring in his coffee
Right. Simple enough.
She moved quickly.
Within ten minutes, she had the screens glowing with charts and projections for the day's meetings. She organized the documents into neat stacks. She synced his digital notifications with her own tablet.
The only thing left was—
Coffee.
She grabbed the sleek Titan-branded mug from the cabinet. As she lifted it, she noticed a small sticky note near the coffee machine.
"Mr. Blackwood's coffee:
— 2 shots espresso
— 1 pump vanilla
— ½ tsp sugar
— 182°F exactly.
— Stir clockwise only."
Maya blinked hard.
"Seriously?"
She made it exactly as instructed, using the company's high-end espresso machine. She even checked the temperature twice.
With a deep breath, she set it on Adrian's desk.
Then she waited.
The clock ticked to 7:59.
Her heart sped up.
8:00.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
The door opened.
Adrian Blackwood strode in like he owned gravity itself.
Dark suit. White shirt. No tie today. Everything about him radiated control, composure, and a kind of quiet intensity that filled the entire room.
His eyes swept over her once.
"You're early," he said.
"I wanted to be prepared."
"Good."
He moved behind his desk and lifted the coffee. Maya held her breath as he took a sip.
Please be right. Please be right—
He placed the mug down.
One eyebrow lifted.
"You checked the temperature," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"You stirred clockwise."
"I did, sir."
A pause.
"Acceptable."
Maya released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
Adrian didn't look at her again for a while. He reviewed the documents she'd arranged, clicked through the morning briefings, and checked his notifications.
Then he spoke without looking up.
"Rule #12."
Maya flipped open the rulebook. "Always anticipate your superior's needs."
"Good. What do I need right now?"
Maya froze. "Um… a summary of your first meeting?"
"No."
"Your call list?"
"No."
She chewed her lip. "Coffee?"
He gave her a look that could have frozen steam.
"Miss Benson, I need silence. You are talking."
Oh.
She snapped the book shut. "Sorry, sir."
"Rule #1," he said sharply.
"No small talk."
"Yet you continue."
Maya swallowed and nodded.
Adrian watched her for a second longer before returning to his tablet.
"Learn to observe," he said. His tone wasn't harsh this time—just firm. "I don't need chatter. I need competence."
She nodded again, silently this time.
The next hour passed in tense quiet as Maya learned how to manage correspondence, arrange files in the exact order Adrian preferred, and prepare notes for his upcoming meetings. Adrian corrected her twice, praised her zero times, and iced her with his eyes at least four.
But he didn't fire her.
Which, in her mind, counted as a win.
Around 9:15, his phone rang.
He answered with a curt, "Blackwood."
Maya pretended not to listen—but she couldn't help hearing the clipped tone in his voice, the slight shift in his posture, the almost invisible tension in his jaw.
"Yes. I'm aware."
"No, I don't care what he said."
"Fix it."
He ended the call sharply and stood.
"Cancel my meeting with Walters," he said.
Maya typed quickly. "Cancelled."
"Move my briefing with Shaw to eleven."
"Done."
"Prepare a summary of all pending contracts by noon."
"Yes, sir."
He stopped in front of her desk.
Close enough that she had to look up.
His gray eyes held hers for a long moment.
"Miss Benson."
"Yes?"
"You're doing better than I expected."
Her heart fluttered.
"Thank you, sir."
He walked away.
Just as he reached the door, he added:
"Don't let it go to your head."
Her smile faded instantly.
She sighed.
Working for the coldest man in America was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done.
And the most addictive.
The rest of the morning moved at a pace Maya could only describe as "inhuman."
Adrian Blackwood didn't walk.
He glided.
Purposefully. Efficiently. Coldly.
Every time he left his office, she scrambled to follow with her tablet, trying to document everything he said, did, asked, or breathed in the general direction of.
By the time they reached his third meeting of the day, her brain felt like a buffering computer.
Adrian entered the conference room without acknowledging anyone. Maya slipped inside behind him.
Four executives were already seated. They watched him like nervous prey might watch a predator.
"Let's begin," Adrian said, taking his seat at the head of the table.
Maya remained at the wall, tapping notes into the tablet as quietly as possible.
The meeting started with talk about quarterly profits, then a discussion about a high-profile partnership deal with a European tech firm. But the executives kept hesitating—circling around an issue instead of addressing it directly.
Adrian's jaw flexed.
"I can smell you wasting my time," he said flatly.
Silence.
One of the executives, a balding man with a trembling hand, cleared his throat.
"W-We're still unsure if the terms of the contract—"
Adrian cut him off.
"You're unsure because you haven't read the contract."
The man stiffened. "I—I did read—"
"Then you didn't understand it," Adrian snapped.
Maya almost choked on air.
No one talked like this. No one was allowed to talk like this—except apparently Adrian Blackwood.
She typed in silence while the executives stumbled through their explanations. Adrian shut every one of them down with brutal efficiency.
When the meeting finally ended, the room emptied like a vacuum had sucked everyone out.
Adrian rose, but instead of leaving, he turned toward Maya.
His expression was unreadable.
"Give me your assessment."
She blinked. "My… what?"
"What did you observe?" he asked, slow and deliberate.
She hesitated.
This felt like a test.
"Well…" she began carefully, "the team seemed uncertain about the terms of the partnership, which suggests they didn't review the updated document you sent last night."
Adrian didn't react.
He just watched.
"They also weren't aligned on the projections," she continued. "Which means either communication within the team is poor, or they didn't prepare."
Silence.
Then:
"Go on."
She swallowed. "And… I think they're intimidated by you."
Adrian's brows lifted slightly. "Intimidated."
"Very."
He looked away, as if processing the observation. When his eyes returned to hers, something had shifted—barely, but enough for her to notice.
"You're perceptive," he said.
She blinked. "Is that… good?"
"For now."
She wasn't sure if that meant she passed the test or failed it, but Adrian was already walking out of the room.
"Miss Benson," he called without turning.
"Yes, sir?"
"Move."
She rushed after him.
---
Back in the office, Maya sank into her chair for five seconds—long enough for her spine to sigh.
Then her tablet buzzed.
A notification from the internal messaging system.
From: Jonathan Hale
Subject: Survival check-in
Still alive?
Maya snorted under her breath.
She typed back:
We're in hour three. I'm clinging to life.
Jonathan replied instantly.
That's better than most. Come to the planning room in ten minutes. I'll show you how to manage his afternoon load before he breaks you.
She looked up. Adrian was still in his office, silently reviewing documents, his expression carved from ice.
"Planning room," she whispered to herself. "Got it."
---
Ten minutes later, Maya found the planning room—an organized chaos of binders, digital boards, deadlines, and color-coded calendars.
Jonathan stood waiting with a tablet in hand.
"Here," he said, handing her a stylus, "this is your battlefield."
Maya eyed the screens. "It looks like a war zone."
"That's because it is. Adrian runs this company like a military operation. Everything matters. Every minute is accounted for."
He pointed to the screen.
"That's his schedule for the afternoon. You'll need to manage it."
Maya scanned the list.
— Investor call
— Two strategy meetings
— A product briefing
— Three check-ins with department heads
— A site visit
— A press prep
— A negotiation session
— And a charity event in the evening
Her head spun. "How does one human do all this?"
"He's not human," Jonathan replied dryly. "He's Adrian."
Maya groaned. "I'm doomed."
"You'll adjust," Jonathan said. "Maybe."
"Maybe?"
He shrugged sympathetically. "Better than definitely not."
She dropped her face into her hands. "Why did I accept this job?"
"Because it's Titan Digital," Jonathan replied. "This place opens doors. And surviving Adrian for even six months is like a golden ticket. Companies fight over people who've worked under him."
She lifted her head. "So this is… career suicide or career launch?"
"Exactly."
She groaned again.
Jonathan smirked. "Look, you're doing better than the last assistant already."
"How long did the last one last?"
"Two days."
Maya paled.
"Don't worry," Jonathan added. "Blackwood only fires people when they disappoint him."
"That's… not comforting."
Jonathan patted her shoulder. "Welcome to Titan."
---
By noon, Maya had reorganized Adrian's entire schedule, prepared documents for the investor call, updated projections for the strategy meeting, and triple-checked the briefing notes.
Her head was pounding. Her stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten. She hadn't even sat down in over an hour.
She raised her hand to knock on Adrian's office door.
Before she could, his deep voice came from inside:
"Enter."
Did he have supersonic hearing?
She stepped inside.
Adrian looked up from his laptop. "Lunch meeting in ten minutes. You'll join."
"Yes, sir."
He eyed her calmly. Too calmly.
"You haven't eaten."
Her heart tripped. "I—uh—no, not yet."
"You need to maintain energy if you intend to keep up."
Was… was that concern?
Before she could overthink it, Adrian pushed a small bag across the desk.
"Take it."
She blinked. "What is it?"
"Food."
"You… got me lunch?"
"No," he said coolly. "I ordered too much. Don't let it go to your head."
She stared at him.
Cold CEO.
Ice for blood.
No emotions.
Terrifying.
And he bought her lunch.
She took the bag slowly. "Thank you, sir."
His eyes flicked up, meeting hers with that same unreadable intensity she was becoming far too aware of.
"Move, Miss Benson. We don't have time for sentiment."
But Maya couldn't stop the tiny smile that tugged her lips as she followed him out of the office.
Maybe he was ice.
But even ice cracked—under the right pressure.
And she intended to find the warmth underneath.