~Evelyn’s POV~
I kept my face entirely neutral, but internally, a faint amusement stirred as I recalled the sheer dread on Clara’s face when the police led my former board members away.
To me, their public arrest was just a clean, predictable outcome.
To her, it was a horror show.
I wondered what she’d make of her first day at Vance Corp.
Walking back to my office with Clara trailing a few paces behind, I caught myself almost smiling.
When we reached the executive floor, she immediately returned to her desk next to Lydia, looking like a startled fawn.
I sat behind my desk and pressed the intercom.
“Come to my office, Clara.”
Seconds later, a soft, hesitant knock sounded on the heavy mahogany door.
“Come in,” I called out.
She stepped inside, her fingers clutching her notepad so tightly her knuckles were stark white.
She looked everywhere but at me, a desperate attempt to avoid my gaze, but her shallow breathing gave her anxiety away completely.
For a moment, I just looked at her.
Not as an acquisition I recently bought, nor as my assistant, but as a woman.
The pinstriped white blazer and black pencil skirt she had chosen fit perfectly, highlighting her narrow waist and soft shoulders.
She looked sharp, professional, and…
beautiful.
No.
I shook my head inwardly, forcefully dispelling those invasive thoughts and shoving down instantly, locking it away in a compartment where it couldn’t do any damage.
It was unprofessional.
Irrelevant.
“Sit down,” I commanded, walking over to the built-in refrigerator on the far wall.
I poured a two glasses of cold water and handed one to her.
She looked up, hesitant, her eyes darting from the glass to my face before she slowly took it.
Her fingers brushed mine—a brief, passing touch, but the heat of it lingered on my skin.
“Let me see what you wrote down in that tiny notepad, of yours” I said, deliberately letting my voice drop into the cold, unyielding cadence I used in meetings.
“But ma’am…..I’m sorry, Miss Evelyn, I really didn’t write anything useful or worth reading,” she protested, clutching the small pad to her chest like a shield.
“I saw your pen moving, Clara,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
For some reason, I enjoyed watching her get flustered.
It was a petty, almost childish amusement, but seeing her cheeks flush in the chilly, air-conditioned silence of my office was entirely satisfying.
“Give it to me,” I said, hardening my tone just a fraction.
Her grip loosened immediately, and she handed the notepad over.
I walked back behind my desk, sat down, and began flipping through her scribbles.
Her handwriting was surprisingly neat, a stark contrast to the panic she must have felt.
But as I read her actual notes, my interest caught:
“Feels like Antarctica in here, even though I’ve never been there before in my life”
“How can people who have so much money be so greedy? I don’t understand.”
“Miss Evelyn in the boardroom is terrifying. Note to self: never get on her bad side.”
“Don’t pass out, Clara. Just breathe.”
I turned the page.
Beneath those raw, honest reactions, she had actually written down a highly accurate summary of the financial talking points.
It was impressive.
Even while surrounded by shouting board members and arresting officers on her very first day, she had kept her head down and listened.
Good for her.
“You seem to have such a great sense of humor,” I commented, deliberately ignoring the pointers she took during the main meeting and then placing the notepad on the edge of my desk.
I watched as her face twisted with obvious anxiety, her eyes widening slightly.
“I’m sorry, Miss Evelyn… I didn’t mean to write those things down. It’s… it’s a habit. I do it whenever I’m nervous,” she explained in a rush, her words tumbling out so quickly I almost missed them.
Strangely, her nervous explanation struck me as… adorable.
A tiny, unwelcome crack in my composure.
“Come and take it, and return to your station,” I said, keeping my tone level.
She immediately walked up, her movements still a little stiff, and took the notepad from my hand.
“Remind Lydia of our meeting this afternoon,” I added, just as she turned to leave.
“Yes, Miss Evelyn,” she replied, and with that, she was gone.
The rest of the day unfolded with a smoothness that was almost jarring compared to its tumultuous beginning.
I had a productive meeting with my two assistants, Francis and my COO, discussing other vital company matters.
Usually, I’d stay at the office until 8 PM, immersed in work.
But today, for the first time, I felt a subtle responsibility tugging at me.
I had someone to consider now so I left the office promptly at 4 PM, taking some of the unfinished work home with me.
“What do you make of your first day at work?” I asked Clara as we stood side-by-side in the elevator, heading down.
“And I need an honest review,” I added immediately as she opened her mouth to answer, ensuring she understood I wasn’t looking for platitudes.
She nodded, then fell silent for a minute, her gaze fixed on the steel floor of the lift, clearly gathering her thoughts.
When she finally spoke, her voice was measured. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“It was overwhelming at first. I’ve never been in this position before, working in a corporate environment, in general. Not to mention working closely with a person of your caliber, and neither was I used to such been around so many people before. But having Lydia as a senior made my work a little easier.”
“This is the longest you’ve ever talked,” I commented, a hint of amusement in my voice.
She merely looked down at the shiny floor, whether from nervousness or shyness, I couldn’t tell.
But then I noticed a faint red color creeping up her exposed neck and onto her cheeks.
Is she blushing?
I wondered.
Just then, a soft chime sounded, indicating we had reached the ground floor.
“I hope you had your lunch at the office?” I asked as we entered the car, my mind already shifting gears to my evening.
“Yes, Miss Evelyn,” she nodded, but I noticed a fleeting, almost imperceptible flicker of something in her eyes the moment before she replied.
It was too quick to notice, but it was there.
“Did something happen?” I pressed, my gaze sharp.
“No, Miss Evelyn,” she answered simply.
I nodded, returning my attention to reviewing important documents on my iPad, the brief moment of concern filed away.
I headed to my private quarters within the mansion, while Clara hurried off to the North Wing.
An hour later, after a lengthy video conference with a partner company and the usual stack of documents to review and sign, I found myself drawn, almost against my will, to the vicinity of Clara’s art studio.
I wondered if she’d already started painting, with Friday’s deadline looming.
Or perhaps the day’s turmoil had taken its toll, and she’d decided to postpone it until tomorrow.
My curiosity, a rare and often inconvenient emotion, got the better of me.
I turned the doorknob, which, thankfully, she hadn’t locked, and walked straight in.
She wasn’t there, but the state of the studio indicated she had been present not too long ago.
The paints on the palette were still wet, as were the brushes lying nearby.
And directly in front of the easel was a canvas with an image I couldn’t quite decipher from this distance.
I took a short walk around the spacious space, my gaze falling upon another canvas, this one covered with a white linen cloth.
Curious, I approached it.
Just as my hand reached out to lift the cover and see what lay beneath, I heard my name.
“Miss Evelyn,” Clara’s voice, laced with panic and anxiety, called out.
The tremor in her voice only fueled my desire to know what she was hiding.
What are you hiding, Clara?
What do you think Clara was hiding in the office and at home???
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