Guard of heart

The menace

I walked alongside Mr. Wilkins through the bustling lobby of Wilkins Enterprises, and honestly, it felt like I'd just waltzed into a cathedral of power. The floors were so polished that I could probably see my reflection in them. The employees moved with a kind of silent efficiency that made me feel like I'd accidentally crashed a perfectly choreographed dance routine. Everyone knew their moves.

**Note to self**: Don't trip and fall. These people would probably never stop judging.

The receptionist at the front desk greeted Mr. Wilkins with a smile so perfectly practiced, I half-wondered if they taught it at some sort of "corporate charm school." Behind her, a massive digital display scrolled through the company's latest ventures: renewable energy, luxury fashion, healthcare-you name it, they had their fingers in it.

As I adjusted my bag and tried to appear somewhat professional, I noticed how nobody seemed to be rushing. It was a busy environment, but not the frantic kind I was used to. It was almost eerie, like everyone had received a secret memo on how to be productive without breaking a sweat. Phones rang, shoes clicked across the marble floor, but it all felt so... calm and controlled.

Great. No pressure. Just blend in like a chameleon, Elara. That's totally your thing... *not*.

My heart beat a little faster, but I kept my face composed as we approached the elevator. I couldn't afford to show any signs of nervousness. I wasn't just anyone here-I was Mr. Wilkins' new private secretary.

The elevator doors slid shut, and as we ascended, I glanced at Mr. Wilkins. He looked so calm, scrolling through something on his phone like this was just another Tuesday. Meanwhile, I felt like I was about to face a monumental challenge. My palms started to sweat. *Ugh, I bet they could smell my inexperience through the glass walls.*

When we reached the executive floor, the vibe shifted dramatically. The floors here were carpeted in a deep, rich color, and the walls displayed subtle yet expensive artwork. The kind of art you'd only pretend to understand in a museum. We walked down the hall to Mr. Wilkins' office, where I would be spending most of my time.

"This will be your workspace, Elara," Mr. Wilkins said, gesturing to a sleek, minimalist desk just outside his office. "You'll handle my correspondence, scheduling, and anything else that needs immediate attention."

I nodded, trying to look confident. *Play it cool, Elara. You've got this.* I set my bag down on the chair, taking in my new workstation. The desk was pristine-just how I liked it. A monitor, a few neatly stacked files, and a small plant in the corner. Cute. Organized. Perfect.

But no sooner had I sat down, logged in, and started tackling emails. After an hour of continuous screen work, i realized that working directly on a computer for hours was more exhausting than I'd anticipated. My brain was turning into mush, and I hadn't even had lunch yet.

Checking my watch, I saw the shareholder meeting was approaching. Time to get my act together. I grabbed the seminar presentation I'd prepared and headed into Mr. Wilkins' office. The door squeaked as I pushed it open.

Mr. Wilkins was seated behind his massive desk, glasses perched on his nose as he focused on something on his screen. When he heard the squeak, he looked up. His expression was calm, but his raised eyebrow seemed to say, *You better have something important.*

"Mr. Wilkins, I wanted to remind you that the shareholder meeting is scheduled online in an hour," I said, striving for professionalism.

He gave me a short nod. "Okay. Before the meeting, I need you to take this to Mr. Reynolds in Finance," he said, handing me a file. "Deliver it personally."

I took the file from him, nodding. "Of course, sir. Right away."

"Right away, sir" Yeah, I totally knew where Finance was...

After a brief moment of internal panic and a quick check of the floor directory on my phone, I made my way to the 7th floor. The Finance Department was a different beast-desks cluttered with spreadsheets, monitors flashing with stock updates, and people murmuring about projections. Numbers. Everywhere.

I spotted Maya, Mr. Reynolds' assistant, looking slightly overwhelmed but still efficient. She probably got through coffee faster than she did paperwork.

"Hi, I'm here to see Mr. Reynolds. Is he available?" I asked, trying to sound confident.

Maya glanced up, surprised to see me, but quickly masked it with her professional game face. "Let me check." She made a quick phone call before nodding. "You can go in. Just a heads-up, though... he's not in the best mood today."

*Awesome*, I thought. Exactly what I needed on my first day: a grumpy finance guy.

---

Stepping into Mr. Reynolds' office was like stepping into a freezer. The room was sleek, cold, and impeccably organized. Everything was in its perfect place, just like the man sitting behind the desk. He was tall, with sharp features and a suit that probably cost more than my rent. He looked up at me with a hint of surprise, quickly replaced by his trademark professionalism.

I placed the file on his desk, trying to channel all the confidence I could muster. "Mr. Wilkins asked me to deliver this directly to you," I said with a smile I hoped was more cool and less please don't eat me alive.

He studied me for a moment, as if assessing whether I was worth his time. "I'll review this right away," he said in a clipped tone.

As I turned to leave, my hand gripping the doorknob, I heard him say, "Honestly, I didn't expect you to make it past the final selection."

I froze. My brain screamed at me to ignore him, but my mouth had other plans.

I turned slowly, letting the doorknob slide out of my grip. "Everyone knows Mr. Wilkins. If he hired me, he must believe in my capabilities, right, Mr. Reynolds?"

I gave him a small smile, though internally, my brain was screaming, *Please let this go*. This was supposed to be a simple file drop-off, not a challenge to my existence.

He stared at me, his gaze narrowing. *Great. Now he thinks I'm challenging him. Good job, Elara.*

"You're right, Ms. Hailsin," he said, though his tone carried an undercurrent of skepticism. "We'll see how this plays out."

I let out a breath, relieved but still on edge. "Glad we're on the same page." I forced a smile, more for my own sanity than his approval.

As I turned back to leave, his voice stopped me mid-step.

"You've got a lot to prove."

*Oh, come on. Just let me leave without one last jab*. I turned slowly, letting the doorknob slide out of my grip again
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't think I could handle it."

Was that confidence I just heard in my voice? *Who is this brave person, and why is she using my vocal cords*?

His lips twitched-was that a smirk? Oh great, now he thinks this is a game. "We'll see," he said, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world to watch me fail.

I gave a polite nod, mostly to prevent myself from saying something I'd regret. *You're not the only one with things to prove, Mr. Reynolds*. Without another word, I left his office, shutting the door behind me a little more forcefully than necessary.

As I walked back to the elevator, I replayed the conversation in my head. *So, that went well. If by 'well' you mean 'could have been worse, but barely.'*

The elevator dinged, and as the doors slid open, I stepped inside, leaning against the wall as I pressed the button for the executive floor. *Just breathe, Elara. He's just one person in a sea of people you need to impress. Besides, Mr. Wilkins believes in you, right?*

I stared at my reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. *Right?*