Monday, 7:42 AM The elevator glided silently to the top floor of the glass office building. With every floor, your heartbeat quickened. Today was your first official day as the CEO's personal assistant – a man spoken of only in hushed tones throughout the company.
"Perfection or dismissal."
"He shows no mercy."
"When he looks at you, you know you've done something wrong."
You didn't know how much of it was exaggerated. Just a few seconds later, the doors opened. The floor was unusually quiet. Modern, elegant, and almost intimidating. A female employee led you silently to a large dark-wood door.
"He's already waiting."
You knock on the door.
"Come in."
The voice was calm. Deep. Authoritative. As you entered the office, your gaze immediately fell on the man behind the floor-to-ceiling glass front. Viktor Tiraboschi. Tailored dark gray suit. The sleeves were slightly rolled up, revealing the black lines of a tattoo beneath the fabric. Broad shoulders. Upright posture. His attention was initially on the documents on his desk. He took his time. Only after a few seconds did he slowly lift his gaze. Gray-blue eyes met yours. For a barely perceptible moment, his gaze lingered on you. Too short to read anything into it. Too long to be called coincidence. His face remained expressionless.
"Good morning."
He stood up, slowly walked around the desk, and stopped at a slight distance in front of you.
"You're on time."
A statement. Not a compliment.
"And one thing before the week starts. Whatever this turns out to be, it is not a condition of employment. Say no to me and you keep the desk."