Lea

I sat across from him, spine straight, hands folded too tightly in my lap. The silence in his office wasn’t just quiet—it was oppressive. Heavy enough to crush the air out of your lungs if you let it. The kind of quiet that swallowed every sound, even the smallest ones.

No ticking clock. No humming air conditioner. Not even the faintest creak from the skyscraper’s steel bones as the wind swept past the glass. Only my breath—too shallow—and his, slow and steady like he had all the time in the world to take me apart, piece by piece.

I stared at the polished wood of his desk, at the glint of the silver pen holder, the stark black monitor, the untouched crystal tumbler beside him. Everything about this room was deliberate. Clean. Cold. Controlled.

And Christian Grey? He wasn’t just part of the space—he was its center of gravity.

He sat still, perfectly still, like a sculpture someone had carved out of ambition and stone. Everything about him looked designed, engineered. His charcoal suit hugged his body like it had been sewn onto him. His tie was sharp, immaculately knotted. His hair—slightly tousled in a way that was probably intentional—softened the angles of his face but not the eyes. Not those eyes.

But it was his eyes that pinned me.

Steel-gray. Cold. Piercing. And locked on me like he was dissecting every hidden part I didn’t know how to shield.

And they were on me.

I swallowed hard and reminded myself that I’d survived tougher places than this. The streets of Marseille at midnight. A broken-down flat in Prague with no heat and four part-time jobs to survive. Professors who told me I wasn’t meant for international business. A father who told me I’d never leave our town.

This man might own skyscrapers, but he didn’t own me. Not yet.

This man might be powerful, but I was not weak.

“You’re twenty-two,” he said finally, breaking the silence like the crack of thunder before a storm. “That’s young for this position.”

I felt my fingers tighten in my lap until they hurt, but my voice didn’t shake. “I’m capable.”

He studied me. Not like most men did. There was no lust in his gaze. No leering, no flirtation. Just analysis. Clinical, detached, exact… but curious.

“You’re not intimidated by me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question. More like an observation. Or a fact.

I forced myself to meet his eyes again, even though every instinct in me said look away. “Should I be?”

That did something. A twitch at the corner of his mouth—not quite a smile, but something close. Something more dangerous.

“I don’t tolerate mistakes,” he said. “Not even small ones.”

I gave a small nod. “Then I won’t make any.”

Another beat of silence stretched between us. But this one felt different—thicker somehow. Like the air between us had just changed its shape. Like the lines of authority were still being drawn, and he was letting me hold the pen… just for a second.

He leaned forward, the leather of his chair creaking softly beneath him. Not much. Just an inch. But in a room like this, where every movement mattered, it felt like an entire world had shifted closer.

“You’re not like the others.”

I swallowed again, throat dry. I didn’t respond at first. I wasn’t sure how to. I wasn’t sure what he meant. But I could feel the meaning settling into my skin like heat.

“Is that…” I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to work again. “Is that a problem?”

For the first time, something alive moved behind those steel-gray eyes. Sharper than curiosity now. Darker than interest.

“No,” he said softly. “It’s the reason you’re still here.”

Then he stood.

I rose a beat too late, catching up to the sudden change in energy. He didn’t wait. He stepped around the desk, moving with a slow, deliberate grace that made something at the base of my spine lock tight.

When he handed me a slim black folder—leather, embossed with the company’s logo in silver foil. I felt the heat of his body in the inches between us.

“Your access badge is inside,” he said. “A list of my upcoming meetings, personal notes, internal contacts, and your company phone. Password-protected, synced to mine. Use discretion. Everything you see and hear in this office is confidential.”

“Yes, sir,” I said quickly.

His mouth curved—barely.

“Christian,” he corrected, his voice low enough to feel intimate. “If you can say it without shaking.”

My heart skipped. Not from fear. From something worse. I felt my lips part slightly, surprised. I nodded. “Christian.” The word felt heavy on my tongue. Tasted like a promise I wasn’t ready to make.

He smiled—but it wasn’t warm. It was a storm cloud with lightning behind it.

“Your desk is right outside. You’ll be expected to monitor my calendar in real time. No delays. No excuses. My previous assistant forgot to reschedule a flight last month. She no longer works here.”

“I won’t forget.”

“Good. Your first task—cancel my three o’clock with the finance team. Reschedule with William Tanaka in Zurich for next Tuesday. And make sure the data on the Summit project is printed and delivered to my table by 12:30. I’ll be in a meeting with the board.”

I blinked. That was a lot to process in thirty seconds, but I nodded anyway.

“And Lea?” he added, just as I turned toward the door. Soft. Dangerous.

I froze..

“Don’t let anyone here eat you alive,” he said. “Some of them would like to try.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. I simply walked out and closing the door softly behind me.

The air changed the moment I left him.

The outer office was just as sleek, but less silent. Phones rang quietly, keys clicked on glass keyboards, and voices whispered through wireless headsets. The world kept moving. My desk was minimalist—a pale ashwood surface, a thin screen already logged in, and a tall cup of coffee sitting untouched.

A young woman stood beside it. Blonde hair, sharp as a blade, severe red lipstick, clipboard in hand. Her heels clicked with every breath she took.

“Lea Lira?” she said, eyes running over me like she was scanning for weakness. “I’m Naomi. Director of Operations. I assume Mr. Grey gave you instructions?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Then follow me. You have twenty minutes to learn the system. And a building full of people hoping you’ll fail.”

She turned on her heel and walked away without looking back.

I followed.

And as I walked, I felt it settle deep inside me:

I wasn’t going to fail.

If this place was a jungle, if these people were predators—

Then I would learn how to bite first as I didn’t come this far to be eaten alive.

Even if it meant becoming someone I didn’t recognize anymore when I looked in the mirror.

Even if it meant losing parts of myself, I wasn’t sure I could afford to lose.

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