Chapter 3 Savannah
SAVANNAH
The loud click of my finger pressing the enter key comes only from frustration at my situation. I didn’t even get a day to process. I’ve already been thrown into his majesty’s kingdom. Charles was adamant that Julian needed help immediately. Fine. I’m a professional.
I will not be fired. I will stand my ground to the point that he knows he needs me to keep his days in order. He won’t even remember how to fire someone once I’m through with him.
The ding of the elevator draws my attention, and I can already feel his presence. How can I not? Julian is a dominating force that radiates confidence and success. And why, oh why must he be wearing the dark gray suit with no tie today, and his face clean-shaven?
I stand behind my desk, perpendicular to his door. He walks from the elevator to his office. I smooth my maroon suit dress as if it matters. His eyes, cold yet burning, land on me.
“Good morning, Julian.” I smile politely, with extra pep in my tone.
“Savannah,” he responds curtly and doesn’t bother stopping; instead, he heads straight into his office and shuts the door behind him with force.
Blinking, I try to adjust to what happened seconds ago—a wave of irritation mingles with confusion. He really isn’t one for a bright start to the day that usually entails a friendly greeting, leaving me feeling a bit unsettled.
I blow out a breath and sit down. I opt to continue researching his calendar while nibbling on a bagel from the break room, which is for our floor only. I chose blueberry because I didn’t want to risk smelling of onion; not that it matters around him, except somewhere inside me cares.
There is a very slim chance I’ll be able to leave on time today, and I’ll need to study late into the night.
The deadline for my final paper is looming around the corner.
Most of my degree is online, but I’m approaching the end.
I don’t want to just pass, I want cum laude.
It’s for me more than anything, because my family is already proud of my efforts.
Before I know it, it’s 8 AM, and since he didn’t ask for an earlier meeting, I’ll assume this will be the time for our daily meeting to discuss the day ahead.
My heart hammers in my chest as I stand, grab my laptop, and head toward Satan’s cave.
One gentle knock is all it takes for Julian to say, "Enter.”
He doesn’t even look up when I approach his desk. “Would you like a rundown of your agenda for the day?” At least I sound measured and not at all apprehensive.
“That is your job,” he responds mundanely, still focusing on his cell phone while I sit down on the chair in front of his desk.
I stay composed, flip open my laptop, and list his morning meetings. He doesn’t respond. When I glance up, he’s staring at me with an unreadable expression.
“Everything okay?”
“You left a protein bar on my desk?” I could swear there is a hint of being impressed in his voice.
One point for me.
I shrug. “Yeah, I saw a note about that. I assumed you were at the gym or something.”
He inspects me warily. “Huh, the other assistant never thought of that.”
“I think you mean assistants, plural.” I smile tightly at him.
His jaw pulses. “Next time, make it peanut butter. I hate berries.”
Point down for me.
He wants to make it difficult for me. I sense it. "Sure," I say. "Great weather. The bagels in the break room are excellent. I can bring you one, unless that disrupts your protein regimen. There'll be cake later—someone has a birthday."
“Are you always cheery this early?”
“Yes. Have to start your morning right. Plus, my hockey team won last night against Buffalo, so I’m naturally in a good mood.”
Julian sinks back in his chair, and his eyes probe into me as he stretches his fingers. “Tell me, anything I need to know about you that Charles hasn’t mentioned? He sings your praises.”
“Well, you’ve seen me in meetings, so my work should speak for itself,” I justify.
“I mean outside of the office.”
His sentence catches me off guard. My mind scrambles—what does he mean? "Uh, I’m finishing my master’s degree?" My drawn-out voice betrays confusion and anxiety, unsure if that's what I should say.
“What else?”
I smirk as my snark slips out, though I meant to keep it in today. “Oh gee, you want to play the get-to-know-you game?”
The corner of his mouth lifts, and he splays his hands out while his elbows rest on the chair arms. “You are the one handling my day.”
“Fine.” I square my shoulders and close my laptop, unsure how long this will last. “Small town background. Close-knit family. Hate sushi. Anything else relevant for my job?”
“Nope. Now, continue with the meeting schedule.”
“Don’t you want to share any tidbits of your life? I’m sure your life is oh so festive outside of these walls,” I challenge with a fake smile.
His jaw sweeps side to side as his gaze pierces me. “No need. It’s my company.”
I study him for a second before a sound vibrates under my breath.
“Well… let’s continue. You have a call at 10 AM with London.
Keep the time difference in mind, so there is no pushing back meetings today.
At 11 AM, you have a marketing meeting, they want to give a presentation, but I told them to cut it to ten minutes so you don’t have to sit through the thirty minutes they had planned. ”
He interrupts. “Don’t you need your laptop for this?”
With purpose, I thrum my fingers on the closed laptop. “Or I know your schedule, and we are good to go.” I throw him a contrite smirk.
Julian seems surprised by me. Maybe he expected an assistant to be nervous or to make mistakes, but I’m calm and precise around him. I notice his brows lift slightly, a flicker of curiosity in his gaze.
He clears his throat and adjusts in his seat. “That’s, uh, refreshing.” There is a struggle in giving the compliment.
“Shall we continue?” I say, not waiting for his answer. “I’ve cleaned up your inbox that sat unattended for a while. Assistants are helpful for that. I’m sure you get it.”
His eyes grow wider, probably due to my boldness. “How intuitive of you. Now, Savannah, let’s get something a little clear.”
He stands and circles his desk. Every step tightens my body, anticipation tingling beneath my skin. I try not to stare but fail when he perches on the desk at my side, closing the distance between us.
“Eyes up here,” he orders, and I draw a line up with my gaze to see him, arms and ankles crossed, his gaze set on me.
“You shall listen to me. Beck n’ call and all that.
” He rasps the last sentence, and the words float and wrap around me.
It’s his intention, it’s written all over his face.
His normal tone returns. “The plus side of this arrangement is you’re not new to the company, and I’m well aware of your experience in your role.
I run things a little differently. I request more, demand is a better word. I hope you can handle that.”
He peers down, and I lift my chin. If not for the chair, I'd be on my knees at his mercy. "Easily," I answer, my voice confident, not weak.
“Don’t be too eager, Savannah. You don’t know what you’ve signed up for.
I started a logistics company because I enjoy moving things like a game of chess.
Chess pieces sometimes need to be sacrificed when you make risky moves.
Don’t become a pawn in a game when I don’t always play fair, Ms. May.
So let me be very clear. I have no problem doing things for my business that would turn heads—legal, of course, but questionable to some.
Not many assistants grasp that. I need somebody who isn’t afraid.
I speak my thoughts. I won’t sugarcoat or filter them.
Not many people can handle that. Can you?
” Maybe it’s a threat, or maybe I’m intrigued.
The way he speaks has an ounce of swelter that stabs me deep, all the way to my spine.
“Of course.”
“Great. Because I expect all of my meeting agendas for next week, up until Thursday, to be ready by noon.”
I chuff a laugh. “Why next week Thursday?”
He shrugs, a sinful smile spreading. “Because I feel like it. You, Savannah May, must obey your new boss.”
Are you fucking kidding me? He’s testing me.
I swallow my retort and keep my face neutral. “Of course. It’ll be ready. Anything else?”
He propels himself off the desk. “No. You’re dismissed.”
Julian isn’t looking at me when I stand; otherwise, he would see me biting my lip in complete disgust for his attempt to make me break with the audacity of his choice of words.
I walk to the door and pause, hand on the handle. “Your coffee tastes like crap,” I say. I inhale, turn on my heel, and watch him. “I’ve ordered you a new machine.”
His fingers brush along the glass of his desk as he stands behind it. “Did you now?”
“Don’t worry. I already had HR approve the expense since it involves the welfare of their staff. One staff member in particular. They need to increase the happiness scale for the next employee survey.”
Julian fights back an amused smirk. “Enlighten me on how my coffee machine will increase the scale?”
“Because you will be in a better mood,” I say bluntly and turn to leave.
“Savannah,” he says. I’ll have to get used to how he says my name. It’s not playful, nor serious. His own melody entwines command and entertainment. “Please book a hotel room at the usual spot for 2 PM. I’m meeting someone. You can clear my schedule for the rest of the day.”
I freeze, anxiety fluttering in my chest, and give myself a second longer than I would like to gather composure.
“Of course.” I force the words out, my voice tight with revulsion, before I flee, overwhelmed by absolute disgust. He is one of those CEOs who has weekday-afternoon hotel rendezvous.
Why do I really hate every word in his request? I shouldn’t care at all. Not even a morsel. But there is a crumb of something. Jealousy that I need to find a cure for.