Page 36 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

Greeting the first few people along the way, I made my way up the elevator to the 7th floor. I dried my sweaty hands on my slacks as I rushed down the long hardwood-floor hallway. From there, I headed straight to the conference room, this time careful to avoid head-on collisions.

Fortunately, unlike last time, I didn’t run head-first into my new boss. He was already seated around the large table in the center of the conference room when I entered, my heart trying to make a go of catapulting itself right out of my chest.

“Ah, Stella,” Ace said in his deep voice. “Welcome.”

I caught him glancing at my somewhat-wet hair, and immediately ran my fingers through it, trying to adjust the curls.So much for a good hair day. Thanks, rain!“Sorry if I look a bit frazzled. It’s raining cats and dogs outside.”

He ignored my attempt to make small talk—well, my attempt to find an excuse for my wild hair—just as the receptionist had warned me. “Please, sit down, and we’ll get started.” Like Damon, Ace was not a man of unnecessary words. If I could handle an overprotective broody brother like Damon, I could handle a super grump like Ace.

I took a deep breath. “All right.” I gave him a friendly nod, and in return, he gestured to an empty chair, beckoning for me to sit.

Obeying, I sat down and crossed my legs at the ankles. It made me look more elegant and professional—I hoped.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a very interesting schedule laid out for your first day. Usually, I prefer to have an easy, if not fun task for my new employees before they really get started, but there won’t be time for that.”

“That’s okay. I know you’re a busy man.”

“Very well. As part of the upcoming merger, you’ll be getting started by filing documents for me in our archive room. It’s just as exciting as it sounds, but I trust that you’ll get it done quickly and efficiently, nonetheless. Please, follow me.” He rose from his seat and motioned for me to accompany him. Instead of using the elevator, Ace led me up the staircase to the 8th floor. As we marched up, he explained that he was still waiting for paperwork to arrive from the old archive room in San Francisco. It seemed like some boxes had gotten lost or were shipped incorrectly to who knew where, but his team was investigating it.

We walked by the receptionist, who was busy on the phone. When she noticed Ace, she offered him a smile.

“Mrs. Mills will answer any questions you may have.” He tilted his head toward the older woman as we passed her. “Your office is through there,” he said once we made it through the hallway, motioning toward a door adjacent to his office. “We’re having issues with the A/C on several floors, including your office, but it’s getting fixed today. Your office used to be a storage room, but we’ve renovated it, just like the other rooms. Your predecessor was incredibly involved with decorating it.” My ears perked up. There was something in his tone that I didn’t quite know how to interpret. Before I could think about it any further, Ace continued to speak: “You’re welcome to make any changes that you’d like to. If you’d like any new furniture, ask Mrs. Mills to give you a requisition form for it.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely just the way it is,” I replied, sauntering over to the door Ace had indicated. With an excited smile, I pushed it open and peeked inside. Its appearance nearly knocked me off my feet—and not in the best way. A large metal desk with a bright-orange art-deco office chair stood against one of its purple walls. Two large flat computer screens were mounted on it, hovering above a keyboard that was lit up by blue neon lights. Three bright-orange filing cabinets stood beside the desk, and a big metal statue of a rearing horse occupied one corner of the room. “Wow! This is…more than I expected.”The room looked like some nutty artist had acted out his idea of female reproductive organs, plus disco lights, plus horse stables. Somebodyclearlyliked orange too.

“As I said, you’re free to make any changes you’d like. All right, let’s head down to the archive room.”Ace quickly closed the door behind him, which I could understand. The rest of the building was—as far as I could tell—an atmospheric mixture of old and new.

Ace led me to the elevator past Mrs. Mills’ now-empty desk, hit the button for the sub-ground floor (the basement or, as the button indicated, “minus 1” floor), and we zoomed downward before the elevator doors opened again with an ear-piercingping.

“This way,” he said, leading the way.

The dark-gray walls were covered in modern art that stood out in a bright contrast and looked brand spanking new. I spotted prints by modern New York artists all hanging next to each other. There were several cool charcoal portrait drawings that stood out to me, a series by up-and-coming artist Josephine Graham. “This place is interesting,” I said. “I’ve never been in an office building quite like it.”

“I enjoy modern art combined with traditional interior design and old materials,” Ace said. “People often get nervous about incorporating modern pieces into traditional settings. But that’s one of the things that drew me to architecture.”

“Who designed this building?”

“Funny you should ask. I designed this building myself many years ago at the start of my career. By a fortunate event, I was recently able to purchase it from the client who originally commissioned it. Getting my hands on this place made it easier to decide to move back to New York.”

“And what was your main reason for coming back?” I asked.

“This is it,” he said, ignoring my question and pointing at a closed door next to us. The words “Archive Room” were written across it in small silver lettering. Ace firmly gripped its doorknob and opened it. He flipped a light switch and light flickered on, revealing a huge dark rectangular room lined with oak filing cabinets and bookshelves holding a variety of files. A heavy and beautiful oak desk stood almost at the center of it. There was nothing on it except for a modern white lamp, a plastic pen holder filled with a handful of pens, and two big boxes. A cluster of bright light fixtures dotted the ceiling, filling the room with a strange artificial white light. “The files that you need to work through are in the boxes on the desk. You need to slot their contents into the correct folders. You’ll find all the applicable folders in the filing cabinets over there.” He pointed toward them and stared at me. “Do you think you could do that?”

“Yes,sir,” I replied jokingly, but he didn’t find my joke funny.

“I need you to start getting familiar with our biggest client projects over the last decade. The list is in the top box. You’ll also get access to the new server. If you can’t find a folder, go talk to Winifred or Mrs. Mills.” He continued explaining my task, giving me a quicker orientation to help me find my way around the cabinets and color-coded folders inside of them. “I’ll come around to check up on you later today,” Ace said once I had no further questions. “Ask Glenda to call me if you need help with anything. Good luck.”

With that, he left, and the door closed behind him.

When I stepped farther into the archive room, I noticed the A/C was definitely working down here. It was colder than I’d expected it to be, notably colder than the rest of the building, and I adjusted my scarf. Luckily, my clothes and shoes were dry by now. I sat down in the wooden chair behind the big desk and opened the box of files.

I had a to-do list. I loved to-do lists, and I started working through the papers it contained, reading pages and pages of construction contracts and progress reports.

The minutes slipped away and soon a few hours had passed. I decided that I’d try to find a restroom, believing that a short stroll would help me to regain my focus.

15

STELLA

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