Chapter Two

Chapter Two: The First Day

Harper stood in front of the mirror in her tiny bathroom, mascara wand in one hand and self-doubt in the other.

You’ve got this, she told herself for the fifth time.

Yesterday’s interview with Easton Wolfe was still playing on a loop in her head. The way he looked at her like he was sizing her up. The way he spoke like he expected her to crumble.

But she hadn’t.

She gave as good as she got, and somehow… he hired her.

Sort of.

Temporarily, he’d said. Like she was on borrowed time.

Well, that was fine by her. Harper had survived worse than cold glares and power plays. She didn’t come to New York to play it safe. She came to win.

After tossing her makeup in her bag and smoothing the wrinkle in her blouse for the third time, she grabbed her coat and headed out. She’d planned for extra time this morning. No way was she walking in “on the dot” again.

⸻

By 8:35 a.m., Harper was standing in front of Wolfe International’s sleek glass doors, heart racing but feet steady.

She stepped into the elevator with three other people in expensive suits and the same tight, unreadable expressions. She held her chin high, even if her stomach felt like it was doing backflips.

The elevator stopped at the thirty-seventh floor. She took a deep breath and walked out, heels clicking softly against the floor.

Same office. Same shine. Same quiet.

But today, it felt different. Today, it felt like her battlefield.

“Ms. Lane,” said the tight-bun assistant—Madeline, she remembered. “Mr. Wolfe is in his office. He left instructions for you.”

Of course he did.

Harper followed Madeline to her new desk, which was positioned just outside Easton Wolfe’s office. There was a sleek laptop, a stack of files, and a short typed note waiting for her.

8:00 a.m. meeting with Boston. Reschedule to 9:00.

Lunch with Foster moved to Friday. Make it a working lunch.

Fix the Snyder contract. It’s a mess. Find the errors.

Don’t mess this up.

—E. Wolfe

Harper raised a brow. Don’t mess this up? Really? Not even a “good morning”?

Whatever. She’d dealt with worse than a boss who thought he was king of the world.

She rolled up her sleeves—figuratively and literally—and got to work.

⸻

Two hours in, Harper had rescheduled meetings, rewritten parts of the Snyder contract, and figured out that Wolfe’s calendar system was a maze designed by a madman.

At 10:16 a.m., the phone on her desk rang.

“Harper,” she said, picking it up.

“Coffee,” Easton’s voice said. Just that one word. And then he hung up.

Harper stared at the phone.

Was that a request? A demand? Did he even say please to anyone?

She stood, grabbed her notebook, and marched into his office.

Easton looked up from his desk, annoyed.

“Problem?”

“If you want coffee, you’re going to have to be more specific,” Harper said, standing just inside the door. “Black? Cream? Sugar? Or are we playing some sort of guessing game?”

His eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t decide if she was being bold or stupid.

“Black. Two sugars,” he said finally.

She smiled. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He didn’t smile back. Of course not.

She turned to go but heard him say, “You’re not like the others.”

She stopped, looked over her shoulder. “Others?”

“My assistants. They usually don’t talk back.”

Harper shrugged. “Maybe you’ve been hiring the wrong people.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching her like she was a puzzle he hadn’t solved yet.

“Or maybe I’ve finally hired the right one,” he said.

Her heart skipped.

But she walked out without a word.

⸻

By noon, she’d had enough of staring at spreadsheets and trying to translate Easton Wolfe’s half-written notes. She stood to stretch and saw him through the glass wall of his office, pacing while on the phone.

He looked different when he wasn’t scowling. More… human. Still too handsome for her sanity, but human.

She turned back to her desk, only to hear his door swing open.

“Come in here,” he said.

She blinked. “Sorry?”

“You have five minutes,” he added. “Don’t waste them.”

What in the world…

She walked in, trying not to let her confusion show.

Easton hung up the phone and gestured toward the chair across from his desk. She sat, feeling like she was walking into a pop quiz.

“I want to know why you’re here,” he said.

She frowned. “You hired me.”

“I mean in New York. In this office. In this life. You’re not just another assistant. You don’t act like one. Why?”

Harper hesitated.

She could lie. Say she wanted experience, or that she liked fast-paced jobs.

But instead, she said, “Because I’m starting over. I needed something new. Something hard. I didn’t come here to be safe.”

He nodded slowly, like that answer pleased him.

“You’ll need thick skin,” he said. “I’m not easy to work for.”

“I don’t need easy,” she replied. “I need honest.”

That got a reaction. Just a flicker in his eyes, like she’d hit a nerve.

He stood, turning his back to her. “You’ll be tested here, Harper. Not just by me. By this whole world.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work,” she said, rising too.

He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“I’m not talking about work,” he said quietly.

Then he turned back to his desk like the conversation was over.

And maybe it was.

But Harper walked out of his office feeling like the rules had just changed.

And she wasn’t sure who had changed them—him… or her.

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