Chapter 6

Sophia’s first official day as Alexander Sterling’s executive assistant started at 6:47 AM with a text message that made her want to throw her phone across the subway car.

Running late. Reschedule the 8 AM with Nakamura. Move Henderson meeting to Conference Room B. And pick up my dry cleaning before you come in. Receipt in your email. -AS

She stared at the message, torn between irritation and disbelief. Dry cleaning? He wanted her to pick up his dry cleaning?

I’m your Executive Assistant, not your personal shopper, she typed back.

Three dots appeared. Then: You’re whatever I need you to be. That’s what I’m paying you for.

Sophia’s jaw clenched. This was day one, and he was already testing boundaries, seeing how far he could push her before she broke.

Well, Alexander Sterling was about to learn that girls from Queens didn’t break easily.

Fine. Your dry cleaning will be on your desk. Along with my invoice for personal shopping services. $200/hour, one hour minimum. -SM

The response was immediate: You’re charging me for picking up my suits?

You’re the one who taught me that time is money, Mr. Sterling. My time picking up your personal errands is worth $200/hour. Take it or pick up your own dry cleaning.

A pause. Then: Touché. Skip the dry cleaning. But the meetings still need rescheduling.

Sophia smiled despite herself. First battle won.

By the time she arrived at Sterling Industries at 7:45 AM—fifteen minutes early, because she refused to give him ammunition—she’d already rescheduled three meetings, fielded calls from two board members, and reviewed the day’s agenda.

Catherine Whitmore looked up from her desk as Sophia passed, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised.

“Still here, I see. I had money riding on you quitting after the first text message.”

“How much did you lose?” Sophia asked sweetly.

“Fifty dollars. To Morrison, of all people.” Catherine’s expression was sour. “He said you’d last at least a week. I was less optimistic.”

“Noted. Anything I should know before I go in?”

“He’s in a mood. The Nakamura deal hit a snag overnight—their legal team found issues with the contract language. He’s been on the phone with Tokyo for the past hour.” Catherine’s smile was sharp. “Good luck.”

Sophia knocked once on Alexander’s office door and entered without waiting for permission.

Alexander was indeed on the phone, speaking rapid Japanese that surprised her. He looked up, held up one finger, then continued his conversation.

Sophia used the time to study him. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept much. His tie was loosened, jacket thrown over the back of his chair. And despite the exhaustion, he was still devastatingly handsome.

Focus, she told herself. He’s your boss. Your very difficult, very demanding boss.

He hung up finally, turning his attention to her. “You’re early.”

“I prefer to think of it as being on time. You’re just used to people being late.”

His lips twitched. “The Nakamura meeting?”

“Rescheduled to Thursday at 2 PM. They need time to address the legal concerns you were just discussing in Japanese—which, by the way, I didn’t know you spoke.”

“I speak seven languages. It’s useful in international business.” He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “How much of the conversation did you understand?”

“Enough to know they’re worried about liability clauses in section seven.”

His eyebrows rose. “You speak Japanese?”

“My roommate in college was from Osaka. I picked up enough to follow basic business conversations.” She pulled out her tablet. “I took the liberty of contacting our legal team. They’re drafting revised language that should address Nakamura’s concerns by end of business today.”

Alexander stared at her for a long moment. “You’ve been here less than an hour.”

“And I’ve already saved you at least three hours of back-and-forth with legal. You’re welcome.” She consulted her tablet. “You have Henderson at nine, the marketing team at ten-thirty, lunch with Senator Morrison’s chief of staff at twelve-thirty—”

“Cancel lunch.”

“You can’t cancel on a senator’s office—”

“I can and I am. Morrison’s father is a pain in my ass, and his chief of staff is fishing for information about the Yamamoto acquisition.” Alexander’s expression hardened. “I don’t play politics with people who’ve spent the last month trying to undermine me.”

Sophia made a note. “I’ll cancel with appropriate excuses. But you should know that snubbing Morrison’s office will have consequences.”

“Let it. I’d rather deal with consequences than waste two hours on fake pleasantries with people plotting against me.”

“Your funeral.”

“Exactly. My company, my funeral, my rules.” He stood, grabbing his jacket. “Walk with me to the Henderson meeting. I want to brief you on what to watch for.”

The Henderson meeting was Sophia’s introduction to Alexander Sterling’s negotiation style, and it was brutal.

Marcus Henderson was the CEO of Henderson Media, a mid-sized publishing company that Sterling Industries wanted to acquire. He’d come in confident, backed by lawyers and armed with counteroffers.

He left two hours later looking like he’d been hit by a truck.

“How did you do that?” Sophia asked after Henderson’s team had fled. “He walked in with the upper hand, and he left agreeing to terms fifteen percent lower than his opening offer.”

“I knew what he wanted more than money,” Alexander replied, making notes on his tablet. “His daughter just graduated from Columbia—journalism program. She’s talented but can’t get hired because everyone thinks she’s riding on her father’s connections.”

“So you offered her a job.”

“I offered her a real job. Junior investigative reporter at Sterling Media. She’ll have to earn every story, every byline. But she’ll have the platform to prove herself.” He looked up. “Henderson would sacrifice ten percent of his sale price to know his daughter has a legitimate career path. I gave him that and saved five percent on top of it.”

Sophia shook her head. “That’s either brilliant or ruthless.”

“Both. That’s why I win.” He glanced at his watch. “Marketing meeting in twenty minutes. What do I need to know?”

“They’re going to pitch you on a rebrand. New logo, new slogan, complete overhaul of Sterling Industries’ public image.”

“And?”

“And they’re wrong. Your brand isn’t the problem—your reputation is. People respect Sterling Industries’ work, but they’re afraid of you personally. A new logo won’t fix that.”

Alexander went still. “You’ve been here one day and you’re already critiquing my brand strategy?”

“You hired me to be smart, not agreeable. If you wanted someone to nod and smile, you should have hired a different assistant.”

For a moment, she thought she’d pushed too far. Then he smiled—a real smile, not the calculated one he used in meetings.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

“Probably.”

“Good. I like trouble.” He headed for the door, then paused. “The marketing team is going to hate what you just said, by the way. But you’re right. Come to the meeting. I want to see how you handle pushback.”

The marketing meeting was a disaster.

The team presented their rebrand proposal—sleek, modern, expensive, and completely missing the point. When Alexander asked Sophia’s opinion, she gave it honestly.

“It’s beautiful. But it’s treating symptoms instead of the disease. Sterling Industries doesn’t have a branding problem. You have a trust problem. And you can’t rebrand your way out of that.”

The marketing director—a woman named Vanessa Chen who clearly didn’t appreciate being contradicted by an assistant—bristled.

“And what would you suggest, Miss Martinez? Since you apparently know better than a team with fifteen years of marketing experience?”