Most people would've been over the moon to land a job working directly under the CEO of JAY ENTERPRISE. The company was a regional giant, and with that came prestige—and an impressive paycheck. But if anyone had asked Emma for advice before applying, she would've told them one thing:
It wasn't a job. It was slavery.
At that moment, Emma was fast asleep on the office couch, worn out from the endless errands her boss kept piling on her. Fortunately—or unfortunately—her devil of a boss, Alexander Allan, was feeling generous. He allowed her a few stolen minutes of rest while he prepared her next task.
Just then, Mrs. Johnson, the head of HR, entered with some documents that needed the CEO's signature. The moment she stepped inside and spotted Emma asleep, her eyes widened.
"Ms. Stone," she whispered sharply, trying to rouse her. Anxiety crept up her spine. She wasn't sure how the boss would react, but from the looks of Emma's deep sleep, exhaustion had completely knocked her out.
Alexander didn't even glance up. Instead, he smirked as he leaned back in his chair.
"Mrs. Johnson, be a dear and place those files on my desk. As for that lazy cow of mine—don't worry. I'll be plowing it soon," he joked, laughing at his own crude humor.
Mrs. Johnson didn't laugh. If anything, she looked even more uneasy.
"It's a joke, Mrs. Johnson. I expect you to laugh," he said, narrowing his eyes.
"H-ha…ha…" she chuckled awkwardly, the tension thickening in the room.
Alexander flipped through the files, scribbled his signature, and handed them back. As Mrs. Johnson stepped toward the door, he called out softly, "Close it gently. I don't want to wake my little pet. If she wakes, I'll be annoyed."
A wicked grin lingered on his face.
Some time later, Emma stirred awake. Her heart skipped a beat the moment she saw Alexander staring at her, stone-faced. Panic set in. She bolted upright and hurried to his desk, trembling.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Allan. I didn't mean to fall asleep—it won't happen again, I swear," she pleaded, fearing she'd lose the job on her very first day.
He didn't blink. "I thought I made it clear—your voice disrupts my peace. And if this job is too exhausting for you, feel free to leave. I accept resignation letters twenty-four seven."
With that, he turned and pushed against a section of his bookshelf. A secret door appeared, and without another word, he stepped inside, leaving Emma standing in stunned silence.
Her palms were sweating. Her stomach grumbled. With just a few minutes left before the lunch break, she decided to head down to the cafeteria and try to shake off the stress.
Downstairs, her thoughts wandered to the only friendly face she'd met all day—Janet, the receptionist. She found her just as she was preparing to leave her desk.
"Speak of the devil! I was just about to call your line and drag you to lunch," Janet grinned.
"I finished some work early and thought I'd tag along, if that's alright with you," Emma replied, trying to match her warmth.
"Of course! But let's hurry—I can't leave the reception empty for too long."
The two women grabbed lunch and chatted briefly. Janet had to rush back, but Emma lingered to finish her meal before returning to what she now referred to as the prison. As she entered the office, her heart dropped.
Alexander was already there, his eyes bloodshot and expression unreadable. The air was cold—hostile.
"Where have you been?" he snapped.
"I… I went to the cafeteria for lunch, sir," she stammered.
"Let me make one thing clear. This is my company. You don't decide when or where you take breaks. From now on, you don't step out without my permission."
He tossed a stack of papers onto his desk.
"Photocopy these—twenty copies of each. Make sure they're stapled properly and arranged in order. I want them done by the end of the day. Now, get to work."
Emma grabbed the files and hurried out. He didn't like distractions while working, and to him, she was exactly that—an emotional distraction he wanted to keep out of sight.
At the department printer, she got to work, but the task was overwhelming. Just then, a familiar voice interrupted.
"Need a hand, miss?"
She looked up and saw the man from earlier, Freddy Patrick, glancing at her with a kind smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Patrick," she replied, noting his name badge.
"No need to be formal—we met this morning, remember?"
"Oh, right! Thanks again. Maybe when I'm not drowning in paperwork, I can treat you to a meal?"
"Perfect. And if it's alright with you, can I just call you Emma?"
"Sure, I'm not that picky. Emma or Ms. Stone—whichever feels right."
"Well, I'd prefer if you just called me Freddy. 'Mr. Patrick' makes me feel ancient."
"Okay, Freddy," she said, smiling genuinely for the first time in hours.
As they worked side by side, they discovered shared quirks—like a mutual fear of snakes and a love for novels. Both found solace in reading, escaping real-life pressures for the comfort of imaginary worlds.
Eventually, they finished the task. Emma returned to the CEO's office, her fleeting joy snuffed out by the storm of anxiety that awaited her. Alexander didn't look up.
"Sir, I've finished the task," she said quietly.
He ignored her for five minutes before finally speaking. "Leave the documents on your table. Tomorrow, distribute them to every seat before the 8 AM conference. Don't be late."
"Yes, sir. If that's all, I'll return to my seat."
"Good. Now get out of my face," he said sharply.
Evening rolled around, and while everyone else left, Emma had to wait for him to finish work—something he deliberately dragged out until 7 PM just to spite her. By the time she got home, she was too drained to cook. She ordered takeout, ate in silence, and collapsed into bed.
Still, before closing her eyes, she set an alarm. She refused to be late on her second day.
Elsewhere, in a lavish study lined with books and dim lighting, Alexander lit a cigarette and smirked to himself, thinking about the expressions she'd made.
"You've only tasted the icing on the cake, my dear," he whispered to himself. "Just wait until we cut the whole thing."