CHAPTER 1
~CALLIE~
First week as the personal assistant to the coldest CEO in the country, and I haven't dropped dead yet. That's already a win in my book.
I adjusted my ID, took a deep breath, and knocked on the frosted glass door of his office.
"Come in," came the low, steady voice from inside.
I stepped in with practiced confidence, holding a cup of black coffee in one hand and my planner in the other. "Good morning, Sir Lucien," I said brightly. "Your 7AM coffee — no sugar, all bitterness. Just like your soul."
No laugh. No eye contact.
Just the sound of fingers tapping against his sleek keyboard.
Lucien Valegro — young, sharp, terrifyingly composed. He could make a grown man shut up with a single stare, and I've personally seen him reject five proposals and a partnership deal all in one meeting... without blinking.
And still, I said yes to this job.
Why?
Maybe because I have a thing for danger. Or maybe because the first time I saw him in a meeting room — all black suit, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, and that deadly silence — I knew I'd be in trouble.
"I have your schedule for today," I said, placing a leather folder on his desk. "Meeting with the Tokyo team at 1, budget review at 3, and your haircut at 5. Though frankly, sir, I don't think your hair could look bad even if you tried."
Still silent. But I caught the slightest flick of his eyes toward me — a glance. Maybe even amusement?
Progress.
"Don't forget the dress code memo for Thursday's event," I added. "I already laid out the files alphabetically... with tiny smiley tabs. For aesthetic."
"You overdo things," he finally said, voice cool and unreadable.
"And you underreact to things," I shot back with a grin. "Balance, sir."
I was already halfway to the door, mentally awarding myself a gold star for surviving another morning, when I almost bumped into her.
Camille Ortega.
Department Head of Corporate Strategy. Fierce. Polished. Basically the poster girl for "I'm not trying to steal your man but I totally am."
She looked me up and down like I was the gum on her heel. "Oh. You're still here," she said with a forced smile.
"I work here," I replied, matching her energy with fake sweetness. "And I enjoy it so much I come early. Unlike some people."
She walked past me and waltzed into Lucien's office like she was born there. "Lucien," she purred, "I thought I'd deliver the new strategy plans in person. Thought you'd appreciate the personal touch."
I hovered in the hallway just long enough to hear Lucien's reply.
"I have Callie for that."
My heart skipped. He remembered my name? He acknowledged my existence?
Camille's voice faltered slightly. "Right. Of course."
I spun away and walked back to my desk, trying to play it cool. But inside?
Explosion.
Okay. Maybe I have a stupid, tiny, emotionally-dangerous crush on Lucien Valegro.
But I'm not just any girl. I'm the girl who remembers how he takes his coffee. The one who reorganizes his files even though he never says thank you. The one who notices when his tie is slightly crooked and fixes it without saying a word.
Maybe he'll never like me back. Maybe I'm just background noise.
But I'll stay.
Even if it means loving him from the silence he lives in.
~LUCIEN~
She's too loud for mornings.
Too fast. Too bright. Too… much.
Callie Santiago has no idea what kind of man I am. She waltzed into my life two weeks ago, all sunshine and sarcasm, bringing chaos into an otherwise perfectly structured system.
She labeled my folders with smiley faces.
She calls my black coffee "emotional."
And for some reason, I haven't fired her.
Camille was still talking inside my office, pitching numbers I'd already reviewed. Her voice was smooth, professional.
But it was Callie's voice that lingered — echoing in the back of my head like a song I couldn't shake off.
Annoying.
Dangerous.
Unavoidable.
~~~~~~~~~~
~CALLIE~
"You know what your office needs?" I asked, stepping inside like I owned the place — even though I clearly didn't.
Lucien didn't glance up. Typical.
"A plant," I continued, placing a tiny succulent in a white ceramic pot right at the corner of his desk. "Studies say it reduces stress. You seem like someone who doesn't believe in emotions, so I thought this might help."
Still no reaction.
I pouted dramatically as I stood in front of his desk. "At least name it. Come on, it'll build your character. I was thinking... Spartan. Very on-brand for your vibe."
"I don't name plants," he said flatly, eyes still glued to the document on his screen.
"But you'll let it stay?"
Pause.
"I didn't say that either."
My grin grew. That meant yes in Lucien language.
I turned away before he saw the way that made me stupidly happy. My heart had no business fluttering at a half-approval from a man who barely spoke in full sentences.
Still, it did.
I walked toward the side cabinet and began organizing the new documents, humming a little tune under my breath. It was a new part of the routine now — me pretending not to seek his attention, and him pretending he wasn't aware of mine.
And honestly? I didn't mind.
~LUCIEN~
Her humming was off-key.
Her presence, distracting.
And yet... when she was five minutes late this morning, I noticed. Not just noticed — waited.
I hated that.
Callie Santiago was becoming a... pattern. A sound. A color in my otherwise monochrome life. One I never asked for but found myself expecting anyway.
She placed a ridiculous little plant on my desk today. Called it "Spartan."
I should've told her to remove it immediately.
But now it sits there, quietly staring back at me, like a reminder that she was here. Like a mark she left behind.
I glanced up. She was now rearranging files that didn't need rearranging, biting her lip in concentration, completely immersed in a task I never asked her to do.
She caught me looking. I looked away.
Too late.
She smiled — that kind of smile that didn't ask permission to exist. "Caught you," she teased softly.
I said nothing.
Because maybe I was caught.
~CALLIE~
Lunch break came, and I was still in the office pretending to work.
I knew Lucien always ate alone. His lunches were quiet, quick, and usually dull — some overpriced salad or meal prepped in silence. He didn't even look like he enjoyed food. Sad, honestly.
I knocked gently on the glass, holding two takeout boxes.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to violate your sacred silence," I joked. "But I got extra dumplings. You want?"
He didn't answer.
I sighed and placed the box on the far corner of his desk. "Just in case your soul decides it wants flavor today."
I was halfway out when his voice stopped me.
"Callie."
I turned.
He wasn't looking at me, but his fingers drummed lightly against the desk. "You don't have to... keep doing all this."
I blinked. "Doing what?"
"This."
"The food? The plant? The unsolicited commentary on your emotional constipation?"
A pause.
Then — the corners of his lips twitched. Just a little.
Was that... a smile?
No. Couldn't be.
But my heart believed it anyway.
"You're a strange woman," he said.
"I'll take that as a compliment," I said cheerfully. "Better strange than invisible."
And I meant it. Because for the first time in a long time, even if just a little... he saw me.