Chapter One
Sarah Shah had been Michael Hastings' executive assistant for exactly three months, two weeks, and four days.
She knew this because she'd been counting down until her probation period ended and she could finally breathe without wondering if she'd be fired for looking at him wrong.
"Sarah!" Michael's voice crackled through the intercom. "My office. Now."
Sarah saved her spreadsheet and stood, smoothing her pencil skirt. Through the glass walls of his corner office, she could see him pacing like a caged tiger, phone pressed to his ear, his other hand gesturing sharply.
She grabbed her tablet and walked across the executive floor of Hastings Industries, aware of the curious glances from other assistants. Everyone knew that working for Michael Hastings was either a career-making opportunity or a one-way ticket to burnout.
Sarah was determined it would be the former.
She knocked once and entered. Michael waved her to a chair without looking up, still deep in his phone conversation.
"I don't care what the board thinks, Richard. The Singapore deal is solid, and I'm not backing down because some old men are afraid of innovation." He paused, listening. "Then they can vote me out. See how that works for them."
He ended the call and finally looked at Sarah. Even after three months, the full force of Michael Hastings' attention still made her pulse skip. He was tall, dark-haired, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that missed nothing. Today he'd ditched his suit jacket, and his white shirt was rolled up to reveal forearms that had no business being that distracting.
*Professional,* Sarah reminded herself. *Stay professional.*
"The board meeting's been moved up to tomorrow morning," Michael said. "I need the Singapore projections updated with the latest market data, a full competitive analysis, and talking points for every possible objection they might raise."
Sarah's mind raced. That was at least twenty hours of work. "Tomorrow morning?"
"Is that a problem?" His tone was mild, but she heard the challenge underneath.
"No." Sarah met his gaze steadily. "I'll have it ready."
Something flickered in his eyes—approval, maybe, or surprise. "Good. I'll need you to stay late tonight. Order dinner on the company card."
"Of course." Sarah stood to leave.
"Sarah."
She turned back. Michael was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite read.
"You've been here almost four months now. You're the longest-lasting assistant I've had in two years."
"I'm aware, sir."
"Why is that, do you think?"
Sarah considered the question. She could give him the easy answer—that she was organized, efficient, unflappable. But Michael Hastings didn't respect easy answers.
"Because I'm not afraid of you," she said finally.
His eyebrows rose. "No?"
"No. You're demanding and sometimes unreasonable, but you're not cruel. You push people because you want excellence, not because you enjoy making them suffer." Sarah tilted her head. "And you respect people who push back."
Michael's lips curved into something that might have been a smile. "Interesting theory."
"It's not a theory. It's an observation."
This time he definitely smiled. "Get to work, Ms. Shah. And Sarah?"
"Yes?"
"You're right. I do respect people who push back." His eyes held hers for a moment too long. "Don't stop."
Sarah left his office with her heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the impossible deadline she'd just been given.
*Dangerous,* she thought. *This is dangerous.*
But as she settled at her desk and pulled up the Singapore files, she couldn't quite make herself care.
Three months, two weeks, and four days.
And counting.
