The click of heels approached before the door opened.

I didn't look up.

I sat perfectly still behind my glass desk, the steam from my coffee rising in thin spirals. 

The silence in the room weighed it like cold air before a storm. 

The only sound was the faint hum of the city beyond my windows.

The door opened quietly, and Lara stepped in first, face tight with polite panic.

"Ma'am," she said softly, "this is Rhys Morgan... your new personal secretary."

I said nothing.

My gaze remained fixed on the folder in front of me; the only movement was the slow turn of a page I wasn't really reading.

Rhys stepped inside.

He was tall. Broad-shouldered but not bulky.

 His black coat was neatly folded over one arm, and his dark grey shirt was buttoned all the way up without a wrinkle in sight.

 A sharp, quiet kind of man. But his jaw was tense. Just slightly.

He bowed his head respectfully. "Ms. Blackwood."

Still, I didn't look up.

Lara glanced between us, visibly anxious.

 I hadn't acknowledged him, not even with a nod, and Lara knew what that meant. 

I was testing him already. Judging his silence. His posture. His patience.

Most people failed right here.

But Rhys didn't speak again.

He didn't shift his weight, or fidget with his coat, or clear his throat.

He waited.

And that, finally, made me glance up.

Slowly.

My dark eyes met his for the first time. 

Still expressionless, still unreadable. But behind my gaze, something flickered. 

A brief calculation. A pulse.

He held my stare.

Not boldly. Not challengingly. Just... steadily.

Lara's throat clicked as she swallowed. 

"He was sent from PR this morning. Temp position. Very qualified. Speaks three languages, background in PR and legal-"

I raised a hand. Lara fell silent immediately.

"Mr. Morgan."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you know why the last one quit?"

Rhys blinked, then shook his head once. "No, ma'am."

I tilted my head. "She cried. Right there." I gestured lazily to the spot just in front of my desk.

"Smeared mascara on my floor. Very unprofessional."

Lara visibly paled.

Rhys didn't flinch.

"I don't wear mascara," he said simply.

My fingers tapped once on the table. That was the closest thing to amusement I allowed.

"Good," I said. "I don't tolerate weakness."

"Then we'll get along just fine," Rhys replied.

Lara's eyes shot wide. My lips twitched, almost imperceptibly.

I looked back down at my folder. 

"Your desk is outside this office. You'll receive the first briefing in thirty minutes. Until then, don't speak unless spoken to."

"Yes, ma'am."

Without another word, I returned to my reading.

Lara gestured for Rhys to follow her out. As they exited, Rhys gave one last look back.

I didn't watch him leave.

But I felt his presence linger in the air like cologne.

And for the first time in weeks, my focus took half a second longer to return.