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"I'm going to take it," I decide, the words sending equal parts terror and exhilaration through me. "I can handle this. I can be professional."
"That's my girl!" Olivia high-fives me across the table. "Besides, not every CEO looks like Roman Kade. Might as well enjoy the view while climbing the corporate ladder."
"Olivia!"
"What? I'm just saying, if I had to have an awkward workplace situation, I'd rather it be with the guy who's on the 'Hottest Bachelors' list than, like, Jenkins from Accounting."
I can't help but laugh, some of the tension finally breaking. "You're terrible."
"I'm supportive," she corrects me. "Now, what are you going to wear on your first day?"
One week later,I'm standing in front of the Elysian building at 7:45 AM, wearing my most confidence-boosting outfit—a perfectly tailored black dress with subtle design elements that say "I understand fashion" without screaming "I'm trying too hard."
I've spent the past seven days preparing for this moment. Reading everything I can find about Lumière's history and current product lines. Reviewing market analyses. Practicing my "I definitely didn't sext you" face in the mirror.
Roman Kade hasn't texted me again since that bombshell message outside the building. I'm not sure if that's a good sign or a bad one.
"Cassandra Monroe?" A perky assistant greets me in the lobby. "I'm Taylor. I'll be showing you to your new office and getting you set up today."
My new office. I have an office. With a door. And a window. This is really happening.
The elevator ride to the 36th floor feels simultaneously endless and too short. Taylor chatters about building access cards and cafeteria hours while I nod and pretend I'm not having an internal meltdown about potentially running into my new boss at any moment.
"Here we are!" Taylor announces, opening a frosted glass door with "Lumière" etched into it. "The creative team is eager to meet you. Mr. Kade mentioned you have an innovative vision for the brand."
The words "Mr. Kade mentioned" send my heart rate skyrocketing again, but I manage a professional smile as Taylor leads me through an open workspace filled with stylishly dressed designers who regard me with curious expressions.
"Your office is right through here," Taylor continues, opening another door to reveal a corner office with stunning views of the city and a sleek glass desk. "The team will gather in the conference room at 9:30 for introductions. Will you need anything before then?"
"No, thank you. This is perfect." My voice sounds remarkably steady for someone who's internally losing it.
As soon as Taylor leaves, I sink into the ergonomic chair behind my desk and take a deep breath. I can do this. I am a professional. I am qualified for this job. I will not think about Roman Kade and sex against the wall and?—
"Ms. Monroe. Settling in?"
The deep voice from the doorway sends a jolt of electricity up my spine. I spin my chair around so quickly I nearly fall out of it.
Roman Kade stands in my office doorway looking impossibly perfect in an undoubtedly expensive charcoal suit. His expression is completely neutral, as if he didn't send me that text, as if we don't have this strange, explosive secret between us.
"Mr. Kade." I rise from my chair, grateful that my legs feel steady. "Yes, thank you. The office is lovely."
"Good." He steps inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click that somehow sounds deafening in the sudden silence. "We should establish some ground rules."
Here it comes. I brace myself for... what? Inappropriate suggestions? Blackmail? A pretense that nothing happened?
"Lumière is a priority for Elysian," he says, his tone purely professional. "The brand needs significant revitalization without alienating its core customer base. I expect weekly progress reports and direct communication about any obstacles you encounter."
I blink, thrown by the businesslike approach. "Of course. I've already started developing a transition plan for the first hundred days."
"Excellent." He nods approvingly. "The creative team is talented but lacks direction. They need strong leadership, which is why I selected you despite your... unorthodox interview approach."
Is he referring to me telling him his brand lost its way, or to me accidentally sexting him? The ambiguity is maddening.
"I appreciate the opportunity," I say carefully. "I won't let you down."
His lips quirk in what might be the ghost of a smile. "I'm counting on that, Ms. Monroe."
He turns to leave, then pauses with his hand on the doorknob. "One more thing."