Chapter 5: Confronting the Owner
The revelation about "Grant Alexander Sterling" hit me with the force of a tidal wave. The self-consciousness I felt was immediate and overwhelming. Every casual interaction I'd had with him, every word exchanged, replayed in my mind through a new, mortifying lens.
I'd called him "Grant." I'd prattled on about my family, my financial struggles. I'd critiqued his advice in my head before realizing its brilliance. The sheer audacity of my ignorance made my cheeks burn whenever I thought about it.
For the next few days, I was a coiled spring. I moved through the office with a new level of hyper-awareness, my senses on high alert. Every casual glance from a colleague, every unexpected shadow in my periphery, sent a jolt of anxiety through me.
I found myself instinctively scanning hallways before stepping into them, peeking around cubicle corners, and even holding my breath when I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I was terrified of another accidental encounter, especially now that I knew who he really was.
My usual confident stride became a hesitant shuffle. My focus, once sharp, was now fragmented, constantly pulled away by the fear of a looming, brooding figure in the distance. Even my interactions with Stella, while still friendly, were tinged with this new anxiety. I wanted to ask her more about him, about his habits, his schedule, but I couldn't bring myself to. It felt like admitting to a massive faux pas.
I tried to rationalize it. He was pretending to be a regular employee, right? So, my treating him as such was perfectly in line with his own objective. But the logical part of my brain was drowned out by the mortified, embarrassed part.
One particularly stressful afternoon, I was struggling with a complex set of pivot tables in Excel. The numbers just weren't aligning, and the looming deadline felt like a physical weight on my chest. I sighed, leaning back, running a hand through my hair. My brain felt fried.
"Having trouble with those figures, Ms. Alonzo?"
The voice, deep and smooth, cut through the quiet hum of the office. My breath hitched. It was him. Grant.
I froze, my heart doing a frantic drum solo against my ribs. Slowly, reluctantly, I turned my head. He was standing there, leaning against the cubicle wall, just as before, but this time, the sight of him sent a fresh wave of panic through me.
He was dressed in a dark, form-fitting long-sleeved shirt that subtly emphasized his muscular build, and dark trousers. His hair was still a little disheveled, but those intense gray eyes were as piercing as ever, and a faint, knowing smirk played on his lips. He knew. He absolutely knew that I knew.
My throat felt like sandpaper. "Mr. Sterling," I managed to croak out, the formality tasting strange on my tongue after calling him "Grant" so casually before. I immediately regretted it. The slight stiffening of his posture, the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, confirmed my blunder. He hadn't introduced himself with his last name, specifically so people wouldn't treat him like the owner. And here I was, doing exactly that.
"Mr. Sterling?" he repeated, his voice laced with amusement, an eyebrow slowly rising. "Such formality, Gabriella. Did something change since our last chat in the archives? Or since you were slaving away in here late into the night?"
My cheeks flushed scarlet. He remembered. He remembered everything. My rambling about my family, my vulnerable admissions. And he'd been watching me that night. How much did he watch? How much did he know?
"I... I just," I stammered, my mind racing for an excuse. "I just realized who you were. My colleague, Stella, she... she mentioned your name."
He pushed off the wall and stepped into my cubicle, a surprisingly intimate invasion of my small workspace. The air around him seemed to crackle with an unspoken energy. He leaned over my desk, his gaze dropping to my screen, then back to my face. His proximity was overwhelming, that masculine scent, a mix of subtle cologne and something inherently him, filling my senses.
"And knowing my name changes things?" His voice was low, almost a challenge. "Does the advice I gave you suddenly become less valid because you know my title? Does your admirable dedication to your family suddenly become less admirable?"
His words hit me like a splash of cold water, mixed with a healthy dose of heat. He wasn't upset, not exactly. He was… testing me. Or perhaps, reminding me that the man he was, was the same man I had spoken to before.
"No, of course not, Mr. Sterling," I said, my voice gaining a little more strength, though my heart still hammered. "Your advice was incredibly helpful, and I'm grateful. It's just... it's a bit of a shock, that's all. To realize I was speaking so informally with the owner of Sterling Innovations."
He straightened up slightly, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. It wasn't the playful smirk from before, but something more genuine, almost warm. "I prefer to observe, Gabriella. To see how people truly are, unburdened by the weight of titles. And you, Ms. Alonzo, were refreshingly candid. I appreciated that." He paused, his gaze lingering on my eyes. "So, about those pivot tables. Still giving you trouble?"
My eyes flicked to the screen, then back to him. The sudden shift in topic was jarring, yet comforting. He was back to being the helpful, observant Grant.
"Yes, sir," I said, trying to regain my composure. "I'm having trouble linking the third data set without creating circular references."
He leaned in again, his arm brushing mine as he pointed to a section of the spreadsheet. His touch sent a shiver down my spine. "Here. You're overcomplicating the formula. Try nesting the VLOOKUP function within an IF statement, and create a helper column for your unique identifiers in the third set. It'll streamline the data flow."
As he spoke, his voice was close, a low rumble against my ear. His fingers, long and strong, hovered near the keyboard, almost urging me to try. My brain, despite the sudden flush of heat that had spread through me, quickly grasped the logic of his suggestion. It was elegant, efficient. Exactly the kind of solution I needed.
"Oh! Of course!" I exclaimed, feeling a fresh wave of admiration. "That's brilliant, thank you!"
He pulled back, a faint smile on his face. "Just a different perspective. And Gabriella?" His eyes held mine, an intense, almost predatory gleam in their depths. "Let's stick to Grant. 'Mr. Sterling' feels... distant. And frankly, a little dull."
My heart pounded. He was inviting, no, commanding me, to continue our informal relationship. A thrill, dangerous and exhilarating, shot through me. This was certainly not what I expected from the brooding CEO.
"Grant," I repeated, the name feeling both intimate and scandalous on my tongue. "Thank you. For everything."
He nodded once, his gaze unwavering, before turning and walking away, leaving me alone in the suddenly charged silence of my cubicle, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, my mind reeling.
The fear was still there, but now it was mixed with an intoxicating cocktail of excitement and sheer, unadulterated curiosity. Grant Alexander Sterling was far more complex, and far more dangerous, than I had ever imagined.
***
Chapter 6: The CEO's Proposition
The following Monday, I was engrossed in a particularly challenging market analysis report when an internal email notification popped up on my screen. It was from Ms. Albright. My stomach clenched. Had I done something wrong?
I clicked it open, my heart pounding. The subject line read: "Special Project Assignment - Ms. Gabriella Alonzo." My eyes quickly scanned the body of the email. It outlined a new, highly confidential project involving a significant expansion into the Southeast Asian market, specifically focusing on potential new product lines tailored for the region.
My role? To be the primary research analyst for this project, working directly under... my gaze darted down the email... Mr. Grant Alexander Sterling.
My breath caught in my throat. This wasn't just a general assignment; it was a direct mandate from the top. Ms. Albright's email emphasized the project's critical importance and the need for absolute discretion. A meeting was scheduled for the following morning in the executive conference room.
"Primary research analyst." "Working directly under Mr. Grant Alexander Sterling." The words reverberated in my mind. This was a massive leap, an unprecedented opportunity for a fresh graduate. It was also terrifying.
My previous interactions with Grant had been casual, almost clandestine. Now, I would be forced into direct, prolonged professional proximity with the man who owned the company, the man I'd blathered on to about my life, the man who had seen through my flimsy attempts at corporate espionage.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of nervous anticipation. I tried to prepare, reviewing Sterling Innovations' past market entry strategies, reading up on the economic landscape of Southeast Asia, specifically focusing on the Philippines, my home country, and its neighboring markets. But my mind kept drifting back to Grant.
How would he be in a formal work setting? Would he drop the casual facade entirely? Would he be the brooding, distant CEO, or the insightful, subtly challenging man I'd encountered in the archives and after hours?
The next morning, I arrived at the executive floor, my palms sweating. The air here was different – even more hushed, more opulent. The executive conference room was an imposing space, dominated by a massive polished mahogany table. Ms. Albright was already there, meticulously arranging papers, her expression as unreadable as ever. And then, there was Grant.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me, gazing out at the panoramic view of the Manila skyline. He was dressed impeccably today, in a dark, custom-tailored suit that fit him like a second skin, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders and the lean lines of his body.
His dark hair was still slightly disheveled, but it only added to his dangerous charm. He looked every inch the powerful CEO, but the casual ease with which he held himself still hinted at the man I'd met before.
"Ms. Alonzo," Ms. Albright's crisp voice broke the silence. "Please take a seat."
I walked to the table, my legs feeling strangely heavy, and sat down opposite Ms. Albright. Grant turned from the window then, his gaze sweeping over me. There was no casual smirk this time, no subtle amusement. His expression was serious, intense, and incredibly focused. My heart did its familiar flutter.
"Good morning, Gabriella," he said, his voice a low, steady rumble that somehow managed to cut through the formal atmosphere. It was a subtle acknowledgment of our previous encounters, an unspoken confirmation that he hadn't forgotten the casual "Grant" and the vulnerability I'd shared.
"Good morning, Mr. Sterling," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. I could feel Ms. Albright's eyes on me, and I desperately hoped I wasn't giving anything away.
He took a seat at the head of the table, directly facing me. The gravity of his presence was palpable. "Gabriella, as you know from Ms. Albright's email, this project is of paramount importance to Sterling Innovations. We're looking at a significant expansion, and we need precise, culturally nuanced market intelligence." His gaze sharpened, locking onto mine. "Your background, your understanding of the local market here in the Philippines, is exactly what we need. You'll be my eyes and ears on the ground, gathering data, analyzing trends, and identifying key opportunities and challenges."
He spoke with an authority that left no room for doubt, his voice devoid of any pretense. This was the CEO, the owner of the empire. Yet, underneath the professional veneer, I could still sense that same piercing intelligence, that quiet intensity that had drawn me in before.
"Ms. Alonzo will be reporting directly to you, Mr. Sterling, and to me for administrative purposes," Ms. Albright interjected, her tone precise. "I've cleared her schedule of all other duties. This will be her sole focus."
Grant nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "Good. Gabriella, this project will require considerable dedication. Long hours, meticulous attention to detail, and absolute confidentiality. Are you prepared for that?"
"Yes, Mr. Sterling," I affirmed, my voice gaining strength with my conviction. This was my chance. My chance to prove myself on a grand scale. My chance to make a real difference for my family. "I'm prepared for anything you need."
A faint, almost imperceptible nod from him. "Excellent. We'll start by reviewing the initial market entry strategy. Ms. Albright has prepared some preliminary reports. After that, we'll outline your specific research objectives. This is going to be a demanding few months, Gabriella. But if we succeed, the rewards for the company, and for those involved, will be substantial."
His words hung in the air, a silent promise, a powerful challenge. The "rewards" he spoke of... was he hinting at something more for me, beyond just a successful project?
My mind raced, even as I focused on the task at hand. Working directly with Grant Alexander Sterling was going to be intense, unpredictable, and potentially, utterly transformative.
***
To be continued...
