“So, she doesn’t have an appointment then?” I ask.

“No, she doesn’t,” she responds.

“Then tell her to come back when she has one,” I say simply, going back to the file I was reading before she walked in.

Seconds tick past slowly, yet my assistant stays rooted in place, fingers tensely clutching the folder in her hands.

“Is there something else I can help you with?” I ask slowly when it becomes obvious that she’s not leaving.

“Well, actually, sir,” she starts, nervous sweat breaking out on her forehead. After almost a year of working as my assistant, I’d have thought that by now the poor girl would be less intimidated by me.

“Speak, Allie. What is it?”

“Sir, it’s Ashley.” She says it as if I should know who she’s talking about. I shake my head. I’ve gone through a few Ashleys.

“Tall, leggy blonde you had dinner with a few months ago?” she says, trying to jog my memory.

My brows knit in concentration as I try to pinpoint exactly who she’s talking about. There have been so many tall, leggy blondes, the description feels generic.

“You had me make reservations for you at The Royale,” she continues.

My eyes sharpen as it comes back to me. “Oh. Her.”

“What’s she doing here? I ended things with her months ago.” The nerve of her to show her face here.

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, how exactly did you ‘end things with her’?” Allie asks, eyes staring at me hesitantly, yet expectantly.

“I just stopped calling her,” I say like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Allie stares at me wordlessly, a mixture of shock and disdain on her face. I can visibly see the struggle of her wanting to tell me off for being the asshole that I am, and biting her tongue to keep her well-paying job as my assistant.

“You look like you want to say something, Allie. Feel free to speak your mind.”

For some reason, I find myself genuinely wanting to hear what she thinks of me—what everyone thinks of me.

She’s hesitant, but finally says, “Um…women don’t think like men, you know? We need clarity. So next time it would be best to let them know that you’re breaking things off instead of ghosting, because this one is refusing to take the memo from me,” she says, with a bite to her tone.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s continually coming to the office. The last time she was here, I insisted that she had to have an appointment before she could see you. She says she doesn’t want to make an appointment because it’s meant to be a surprise. Now she’s showed up again—she won’t budge no matter what I say. She’s not leaving without seeing you, sir.”

Fuck.

If there’s one rule I’ve tried to keep, it’s not mixing my personal life with work, and that’s exactly what’s happening right now. My personal life is AT work.

“Have her wait for me in the lounge downstairs. I’ll meet her there in a bit.”

“Yes, sir.”

A deep sigh leaves my lips as soon as Allie shuts the door behind her.

I walk slowly to the glass wall of my office overlooking the city. Cars honk loudly on the street below me, hundreds of people passing each other on the sidewalks. I watch all their nameless faces, vaguely wondering about their lives.

Once upon a time, I was one of those nameless faces, struggling to beat the daily early morning rush to get to my shit job that I hated, but I was content, because I had Lydia. I was in love, and it was enough for me. But it should never have been. It was a crutch I used to keep myself back from striving for greatness, and once that crutch was forcefully taken from me, it was like my eyes were finally opened.

It wasn’t just the softspoken lover in me that died when I found out Lydia was cheating on me. It was everything.

But, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I was reborn into something cold, dark and determined.