Sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting golden stripes across Leah's modest bedroom. The alarm buzzed at exactly 6:30 a.m., but she was already awake. In fact, she'd barely slept.
Today was the day.
Her first day.
Her first real job.
With a shriek of joy, Leah sprang out of bed, nearly tripping over her slippers. "Yes!" she shouted into the air, twirling around like a dancer. She danced her way to the bathroom, singing the lyrics of a song she barely remembered. Her toothbrush became a microphone, her towel a fan waving in the air. Excitement bloomed in every part of her soul.
She was twenty-two. A graduate. And after so many months of waiting, interviews, and anxiety, the email had finally come in.
She skipped back to her room, opened her laptop, and clicked open the message again—even though she'd read it at least ten times the night before.
** Congratulations, Leah Daniels! You've been selected for the role of Administrative Assistant at Carter & Blake Incorporated. Please report to our Manhattan office at 8:00 a.m. on December 2nd…**
She clutched the laptop to her chest. "Yesssss."
By 7:05, Leah was out the door. She looked like she'd stepped out of a Pinterest board—neat bun, crisp baby-blue blouse, high-waist pencil skirt, and nude flats. Her nerves were bubbling, but so was her joy.
She double-checked her phone for the directions, hopping onto the subway. But somewhere between transferring lines and looking out for the wrong building number, she got completely turned around.
"Excuse me," she asked a lady walking by, "do you know where Carter & Blake is? It should be on East 48th Street."
"Oh honey, you're a few blocks down. You want to head three blocks west and turn left. It's the tall building with silver panels."
Leah's heart dropped as she glanced at her phone—9:43 a.m.
"I'm late. Oh my God." She muttered thanks and dashed off, weaving through the crowd, sweat forming along her back despite the cold.
Finally, panting and out of breath, she reached the tall glass building with "CARTER & BLAKE INC." etched above the revolving doors. She burst inside and hurried toward the front desk.
"Hi, good morning. My name's Leah Daniels. I'm starting today—this is my first day. I was told to report at 8."
The receptionist, a poised blonde with a name tag that read Cassie, gave her a polite but tired smile. "You're with the Admin Department, right? Just have a seat. Someone will come get you."
"Thank you," Leah mumbled, trying to catch her breath as she walked to the leather chairs across the lobby.
She was just about to sit when she noticed someone walking past.
Her breath caught.
He didn't even notice her.
A tall man—maybe in his twenties—dressed in a slate gray suit with a black turtleneck underneath. His steps were confident, calm, almost like the floor adjusted to him. His dark hair was slicked back in the cleanest fade she'd ever seen. His skin? Smooth, golden-brown, like sunlight on hardwood. His jawline—sharp. His lips—firm and set. And those eyes—he was looking down at his phone, but she could already tell they weren't ordinary.
Whew.
Leah blinked as he passed by without a glance, completely in his own world. Like he owned it.
"He's hot," she whispered, slightly stunned.
She shook herself out of it, grabbed her purse, and tried to focus on her breathing. This is your first job. Get a grip.
Ten minutes later, a young woman in smart business casual stepped out of the elevator and approached her.
"Leah Daniels?"
Leah shot up. "Yes!"
"Come with me. Ms. Harper's waiting."
She was led up to the 14th floor and into a corner office where a well-dressed woman in her forties stood to greet her.
"Leah, welcome. I'm Amelia Harper, your department manager. Please, have a seat."
The interview began almost immediately.
"Tell me, what drew you to Carter & Blake?" Ms. Harper asked, flipping open Leah's résumé.
"Well," Leah started, sitting straighter. "I was really impressed by the company's growth in the last five years. I also liked how your values center on clarity, innovation, and client satisfaction."
"And what do you think is the most important skill for an admin assistant to have?"
"Adaptability. I think being able to handle changes and keep things running smoothly is key."
Ms. Harper smiled. "Good answer. How are you with client communication—especially under pressure?"
"I believe staying calm is essential. Clients want to know someone is handling their issue, not panicking over it."
There were more questions—email etiquette, software tools, task prioritization—and Leah answered each one with a mix of professionalism and honesty.
At the end, Ms. Harper nodded.
"I like your energy. And I think you'll fit in just fine here."
After a quick orientation, Ms. Harper gave Leah a brief tour of the department and led her into the open office space with glass dividers and a sprawling view of the skyline.
"Now, let me introduce you to your team."
Leah smiled nervously as she was walked from desk to desk, greeting her new co-workers—some friendly, some busy, all curious.
"And this—" Ms. Harper said, stepping to the last desk, "—is Elijah Blake, Management Intern."
Leah's heart skipped.
It was him.
The guy from the lobby.
He looked up, and for the first time, their eyes met.
Elijah looked up from his screen. His gaze locked with hers—intense, unreadable. He didn't smile. He just stared. A long second passed.
Why's he looking at me like that?
His eyes seemed to strip away her nervousness—like he could see everything she was trying to hide.
Leah quickly looked away, pretending to adjust her bag.
"Hi," Elijah said, voice smooth and low as he stood up and extended a hand.
Leah froze.
Her mind screamed, Shake his hand! Be normal!
But her hand never moved.
Instead, she gave a short, awkward wave. "Hi…"
Elijah's brows lifted a little. Then he dropped his hand.
He turned back to his screen.
Leah tried not to stare. He's an intern? Then why does everyone look like they work for him?
Ms. Harper looked between them with a small, amused smile. "Alright, Leah. Let's get you settled in."
---
The atmosphere inside the Admin & Logistics Department buzzed with soft chatter, keyboard clicks, and the clinking of coffee mugs. It was Leah's first full day at Carter & Blake, and to her surprise, she felt… welcomed.
More than welcome.
"Is it just me," said Samuel, the guy sitting two desks away, "or did an actual model just walk in and steal our oxygen?"
Laughter erupted around him as Leah covered her face with her hands, blushing.
"Samuel, please," she giggled.
"Don't mind him," Margaret chimed in. "He called our last intern a model too. You'll get used to it."
Margaret was bright and bubbly, her laughter loud and contagious. She'd already helped Leah find the copy room, walked her through the print system, and even offered her half of her extra bagel that morning.
"Let me give you the real tour," she had said, linking arms with Leah like they'd known each other for weeks.
Everyone wanted to say hi. Everyone had something to offer—a tip, a joke, a friendly wave.
Everyone except Elijah.
He was always there. A few desks down. Working. Focused. Typing, reading, and adjusting documents on his screen. Never smiling. Never looking her way.
Leah tried not to notice.
Until she saw him talking to Valeria.
Leah had caught her name earlier during introductions—Valeria Morales. Sleek ponytail, bold lipstick, red-bottom heels. Confident. Friendly enough, but with a sharp kind of charm that said I know I'm important.
They sat by the window, laughing quietly. Valeria leaned in close. Elijah smirked at something she said.
Smirked.
His whole face changed—relaxed, warm, amused.
So he does smile. Just not at me.
Leah blinked and looked away, focusing hard on the file Margaret had just handed her.
---
The rest of the day flew by in a blur of instructions, laughter, and note-taking. Leah soaked everything up like a sponge. She wanted to learn—fast. She asked questions, shadowed Margaret, and cracked jokes with Samuel when they all needed a break.
By 6:15 p.m., the office had lost most of its spark. Everyone looked exhausted.
Leah leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms as she yawned.
"I'm going to sleep like a baby," she muttered to herself.
"You earned it," said Margaret, standing up and rubbing her neck. "First days can feel like a whole week."
Leah smiled. "Thanks again for today."
"Anytime, girl. You're already one of us."
---
The office lights dimmed as staff began filtering out, coats draped over arms, soft goodnights floating in the air. Leah packed up her things slowly, tucking her notebook into her tote bag.
She stepped out into the hallway, heading toward the elevator when she stopped.
Just ahead of her were Valeria and Elijah, standing close by the vending machines.
Valeria had her bag on, clearly ready to leave. Elijah stood beside her, hands in his pockets.
Valeria reached up, said something Leah couldn't hear, then leaned in.
Her lips pressed against his—quick but real.
And he kissed her back.
Not dramatically. Just naturally.
Like it was normal.
Leah stood frozen for a moment.
Oh. They're actually dating. I wasn't wrong after all.
Valeria walked past Leah without a word, clicking confidently toward the elevator. She didn't even glance at her.
Elijah lingered behind, checking his phone again.
When he finally turned around, he nearly bumped into Leah in the hallway.
They both stopped.
For a few seconds, they just looked at each other. No words. No movement.
His expression didn't change. But his eyes stayed locked on hers, unreadable as ever.
Leah blinked, then stepped past him silently, walking toward the elevator.
She didn't look back.
And neither did he.
_____________________________________
Leah kicked the apartment door shut with her foot, her coat clutched under one arm, and her work tote dangling from her shoulder. A yawn slipped out before she even reached the couch. She dropped everything with a heavy sigh — keys, bag, coat — all landing wherever gravity took them.
For a second, she just stood there in the middle of the quiet room, eyes closed, the faint hum of the radiator filling the air. Then, slowly, she smiled.
"Finally," she breathed. "Thank you, God."
Her words weren't loud or rehearsed just honest. She tilted her head back toward the ceiling and let herself feel it the joy, the relief, the disbelief. After all the months of job applications, the interviews that led nowhere, the near-misses she had finally stepped into something real. She dropped onto the bed without even bothering to take her flats off. Her legs dangled off the edge while her arms sprawled out like a starfish.
"God, I don't even know how to explain today," she whispered. "But You did it. And I'm grateful. So, so grateful."
She laid there for a moment, eyes tracing the patterns in the ceiling. Then, reluctantly, she sat up and peeled off her flats, tossing them toward the corner. A hot shower was next something to wash off the subway, the office air, and the emotional weight of pretending to be ultra-put-together all day.
Ten minutes later, wrapped in a robe and soft fuzzy socks, Leah padded into her kitchen. The fridge buzzed faintly as she opened it. Half a rotisserie chicken from Trader Joe's. A pack of spinach. Some hummus. She decided on a simple chicken salad wrap and turned up her playlist on Spotify. The soft croon of Daniel Caesar's "Best Part" filled the apartment.
She'd just started slicing tomatoes when her phone, resting by the sink, buzzed to life. Rachael (💍 Big Sis)
A smile spread across Leah's face before she even picked up. She wiped her hands on a towel and swiped to answer the video call.
"Hey, newlywed!" she said, grinning.
Rachael's face lit up the screen — no makeup, hair in a messy bun, wrapped in a gray hoodie Leah recognized from back home.
"There she is! Finally. I was low-key about to stalk your job on LinkedIn just to see if you were still alive."
Leah laughed. "Girl, it's been a day. I just got home like thirty minutes ago."
"And…?? Tell me everything. Spill."
Leah held up her hand dramatically.
"First of all, the office is gorgeous. Huge glass windows, skyline view. There's even a mini espresso machine in the lounge."
"Okay, corporate luxury!"
"I know, right?" Leah laughed. "And everyone was super nice. Like, surprisingly.
"Aww, I love that for you. So the vibes were good?"
"Well... mostly." Leah's expression shifted slightly.
"Oh? What happened?" Rachael leaned closer to the screen.
Leah sighed. "There's this one guy — sits a few seats away from me. Tall, kinda mysterious. Looked like he walked straight out of a GQ spread. But his energy? Freezing.
"Yikes."
"Yeah."
Rachael raised an eyebrow. "So... he's cute and rude?"
"Not exactly but I'm not about to start begging someone to acknowledge me. I'll just stay out of his way."
"Oh, babe. That's classic. The silent, mysterious ones always act like that. But watch — he's probably memorizing your name and favorite coffee order as we speak."
Leah laughed. "I highly doubt that"
"Well, maybe he's just... introverted?"
"Or maybe he's just got issues. Either way, I'm not pressed."
Rachael gave her that look — the same one she used to give in high school when Leah swore she hated a guy, only to be caught stalking his Instagram a week later.
"Okay, okay, fine," Rachael teased. "I'll stop. Let me enjoy married life while you fight off the emotionally unavailable GQ model."
Leah rolled her eyes. "Speaking of, how is married life?"
"Oh girl," Rachael exhaled, laughing softly. "It's cute and chaotic. David tried to 'help' with laundry this morning and shrunk two of my sweaters. I wanted to strangle him, but then he brought home Thai food and lit candles, so now he's off the hook. For now."
Leah snorted. "So basically you're living a romantic sitcom?"
"Basically. Marriage is like a sleepover with your best friend that you can't cancel."
"That... sounds kinda sweet."
"It is. But it's work too. Real communication. Real compromise. Like, I love him, but I still want to slap him when he leaves beard hair in the sink."
"Not the beard hair," Leah laughed.
"I'm telling you. If you're not emotionally prepared to argue about thermostat settings, don't get married."
They both burst out laughing. The kind of laugh that only sisters shared — familiar, unfiltered, and healing.
Eventually, the conversation settled. Rachael was curled up on the couch now, sipping tea. Leah had finished her wrap and was sipping her favorite ginger ale.
"I'm proud of you," Rachael said after a beat. "Today was a big day. And you handled it like a pro."
Leah smiled softly. "Thanks, sis. I don't know where I'd be without you."
"Probably still crying over that HR rejection from last month."
"Wow. Drag me."
"Anytime."
They both giggled again.
"Alright," Rachael yawned. "David's calling me. I think he's trying to get me to watch Ozark again."
"You better go before he starts watching without you."
"I love you, Lee."
"I love you more. Tell him I said hi."
"Will do."
The call ended.
Leah set her phone down and stared at the screen for a few seconds. Her apartment was quiet again. Just the soft echo of the music and the occasional creak from the radiator.
She stood, rinsed her dish, and turned off the lights. Her heart felt light — not because everything was perfect, but because it finally felt like something was starting.
And whatever tomorrow brought — weird co-workers or not — she was ready for it.
---
Elijah pushed open the door to his room and immediately felt it — something was off.
He stepped inside slowly, glancing around. The curtains were still drawn halfway like he left them, his laptop was where he last placed it on the desk, and the charger was dangling near the outlet. But his eyes went straight to the dresser. The leather notebook. Gone.
He frowned.
He kept that notebook close — pages filled with thoughts, sketches, ideas, notes from meetings at Carter & Blake Incorporated. His uncle had given him access to shadow the company ever since he returned from school for the holiday. Not because Elijah asked, but because his uncle had seen something in him — a spark, a hunger for business that Damien, his own son, had never cared to develop.
Elijah stepped back into the hallway, his footsteps echoing against the cold marble tiles. The house was always quiet in the afternoons — massive, sleek, elegant — but hollow. The kind of mansion that felt like a gallery: perfect on the outside, cold on the inside.
He turned toward the living room — and that's when he saw it.
Damien.
His cousin, leaning lazily against the arm of the velvet settee, flipping through the black notebook like it belonged to him. His designer t-shirt was spotless, hair styled like he hadn't left the house all day — which, knowing Damien, he probably hadn't.
"Looking for this?" Damien said, not even glancing up.
Elijah took a slow breath, walking forward. "What are you doing with it?"
Damien smirked. "It was on your dresser. Thought I'd see what kind of 'brilliant business ideas' you were scribbling this time."
"You went through my stuff?"
Damien shrugged. "It's not like it's locked. Relax. You're acting like you're the CEO."
Elijah stepped forward, jaw clenched. "Give it back."
Before Damien could respond, heels clacked sharply against the floor.
Samantha Carter, Damien's mother, appeared from the hallway in a crisp silk blouse and sharp eyes already narrowing at Elijah.
She barely looked at her son. Her attention was fixed — as always — on the boy she never liked.
"What is going on here?" she demanded, crossing her arms.
"He was in my room," Elijah said tightly. "He took something important."
Samantha raised her brows like she was personally offended. "Excuse me?"
"He took my notebook. From my dresser."
Her lip curled slightly. "Oh, please. He's your cousin, not a stranger. It's not that serious."
Elijah stood taller. "It is to me."
"Don't you dare use that tone in this house," she snapped. "If you can't respect the people who took you in—"
"Mom," Damien cut in smoothly, "it's fine. I was just messing around. He's clearly overreacting."
But Elijah wasn't looking at Damien anymore. His eyes locked onto his uncle — Mr. Thomas Carter — who had just stepped into the living room, quiet as usual.
He saw everything.
He heard everything.
And still… said nothing.
Just stood behind Samantha with that same unreadable look, pretending not to notice the tension bleeding into the room.
Elijah's throat tightened. Of course. Of course his uncle would keep quiet. He always did.
Samantha clicked her tongue, clearly not done. "You need to stop acting like the world owes you something, Elijah. My husband may have brought you into the company, but that doesn't make you a Carter."
Elijah's jaw locked. His fingers curled into fists.
He said nothing. He just walked forward, snatched the notebook from Damien's hand without a word, and turned on his heel.
"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you!" Samantha shouted behind him.
But he already reached the stairs.
Back in his room, he closed the door — firm, not loud — and twisted the lock.
His shoulders dropped as he sank down onto the bed. The notebook sat heavy in his hands.
He stared at the pages, but his mind wasn't reading. It was racing. He thought of Leah. Of how easy it was to breathe when he was with her. Of how seen he felt outside this house.
And now, all over again, that same old weight pressed against his chest — the reminder that no matter how hard he worked, how much he earned, he would always be treated like a guest in the Carter home.
He closed the notebook.
And sat in the silence.