After distributing materials all day, Charlotte “Lottie” Hayes began grasping the workflow. Though new as the director’s assistant, she surprisingly encountered no hazing. Her first day concluded smoothly, yet she lingered at her desk until 9 PM – Ethan Grant hadn’t dismissed her officially.
Buried in corporate documents, she barely noticed time passing until the glittering city lights outside reminded her of her growling stomach. The unfamiliar office layout left her clueless about dining options. Resolving to leave by 10:30 PM if Ethan didn’t return, fortune intervened.
At precisely 10 PM, polished Oxfords echoed through empty corridors. Ethan appeared crisp in his Brioni suit, pausing mid-entry. “Why are you still here?” His raised eyebrow held amusement.
Lottie’s cheeks flushed. “I…”
“Waiting for me?” His lips quirked knowingly.
Trapped by those hazel eyes, she nodded. “Yes.”
Jingling Maserati keys, Ethan chuckled. “Next time just leave unless instructed.” As Lottie scrambled to organize files, he added dryly, “Though your dedication’s noted.”
Mumbling farewells, she fled to the elevators. When doors nearly closed, a manicured hand blocked them – Ethan’s. “Going down?”
In the mirrored cabin, his Tom Ford Oud Wood cologne overwhelmed her senses. At ground level, he gestured mock-gallantly. “After you, Ms. Hayes.”
Walking through marble lobby, Ethan mentioned retrieving documents for his LAX flight. “You could’ve delivered them,” Lottie offered.
“Then you’d be camping here,” he grinned, striding toward his GranTurismo. “Get some rest.”
Next morning, Lottie raced against Bay Area traffic. Spotting an empty elevator during rush hour, she ducked in – unaware of the brass plaque reading “Executive Access Only.”
The doors reopened for Alexander “Alex” Grant. Recognizing the woman from last month’s lobby collision, his jaw tightened. “This is my private elevator.”
Mortified, Lottie stammered apologies. Alex’s presence radiate authority, his Zegna suit costing more than her annual rent. When both exited on Floor 6, coworkers’ whispers followed her retreat – nobody used the Grant brothers’ elevator without consequences.