Chapter 2

This is unacceptable. How dare Thea hire an assistant for me? I don't need one. Even if I did, I would insist on meeting this person before hiring them. Thea didn't even give me the chance to do that. She can't go over my head like this.

My work phone rings, and I let out a groan when I see that it's Donnie from development.

"Yes?" I answer, my tone curt. "What is it, Donnie?"

"We have a call right now to discuss the updates to the company website, sir. Does this time still work for you?"

Thea enters my eye line through the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the front wall of my office. She's chatting with the head of HR at the large round table that fills the common area next to the kitchen. I need to talk to her before the person she hired shows up.

"Are you there?" Donnie asks. "We have the entire dev team on the line."

"Uh, no," I mutter. Damn, I forgot he was still on the phone. When did I schedule this meeting? And why are we making updates to the site? I don't recall requesting any changes. I'm also too distracted thinking of how I'll be able to convince Thea to fire my assistant before she begins her first day on the job to continue this conversation. "Sorry, Donnie. This isn't a good time. Let's reschedule. Anytime next Wednesday. Thanks. Good work, team."

I drop the phone on my desk as I scramble to my feet and race out of my office. "Thea, good morning. You need to call off my new assistant."

Thea turns to face me with her signature lopsided smirk, which I found interesting when she first started working here, but I've since noticed it's a face she makes when she thinks I'm acting ridiculous. It's a face I now resent.

"Get her on the phone and tell her our needs have changed and her services are no longer required," I add. "And make sure you do it before she arrives. I don't want her commute wasted on a job that no longer exists."

"But Ky––" she interjects. She wants to argue the many reasons why me having an assistant is necessary, but she's wrong, and I'm not interested in discussing it further.

"No. That's my final decision," I say. "We can revisit this in a month or two."

Thea clears her throat as she takes a step to the right, revealing a short Chinese American woman with a bright smile and shoulder-length black hair that looks impossibly soft. She wears a black cloche hat and a powder blue wool coat that reaches her knees, with a sensible office ensemble beneath it. Her dark brown eyes are wide-set, and despite her friendly demeanor, her gaze is penetrating, and I feel naked beneath the intensity of it. In her small hands she holds a tray containing muffins. Steam still rises from their moist tops, and the scents that fill my nose are of warm sugar and blueberries. My mouth fills with saliva, and my stomach reminds me by way of a growl that I didn't eat breakfast this morning.

The corner of Thea's lip quirks up a bit higher as she says, "Kyan, allow me to introduce you to Naomi Zhao, your new assistant."

Shit.

"She has extensive experience, and her references are impeccable," Thea adds.

I can tell she's enjoying the cocoon of embarrassment I've trapped myself in.

"I think you two will make a great team." Thea gestures to the desk just outside my office door. "This is yours, Naomi."

Naomi drapes the strap of her bag over the back of her chair and puts the muffins down next to her laptop.

"Why did you bring those?" I ask, not knowing what else to say and eager to pretend the previous few minutes never occurred.

Naomi sits down in her chair, smoothing the skirt of her navy-blue dress, and adjusts the height and back support. "Because it's my first day, and I wanted to make a good impression. Can't hate the muffin girl, am I right? Would you like one?" She lifts the tray toward me, and I can't resist the offer.

"Thank you," I tell her as I take a bite. A blueberry explodes on my tongue, the juice hot and sweet as chunks of granulated sugar crunch between my teeth. The muffin practically melts in my mouth, warming my throat as I swallow. It feels as if someone has draped a thick blanket around my shoulders on a cold, rainy morning––safety and comfort in just one bite.

"Good, right?" Naomi asks, beaming with pride as she rests her elbows on her desk.

I shrug. "Fine." I probably should've been honest and told her that I've never tasted anything as exquisite as that muffin, but I don't want Naomi to get comfortable here. If I'm constantly showering her with praise, she'll start thinking I can't run this company without her by my side. If I get my way, this will be her first and only day of employment at Monroe Media Solutions.

Naomi's gaze narrows as I take a second bite, and I worry she sees right through me. My phone rings, and my new assistant gets to her feet, pausing at my office door. "May I?"

Thea answers for me. "Go right ahead."

She answers the phone with, "Mr. Monroe's office, how can I help you?" followed by a series of head nods and "uh-huhs" before telling the person I'm currently in a meeting, and I'll get back to them later.

I can't remember a time when my phone rang, and I didn't answer it, which inevitably leads to a lengthy conversation that should've been an email. Yet Naomi prevented that from occurring just by telling whoever it was that I'm busy, and she did so to allow me to enjoy my muffin in peace. I feel the tension leave my shoulders and a sigh of relief escapes me.

Naomi writes the message down on a yellow sticky note and puts it on the corner of my computer screen.

"That was Jack Dovarro from EPL DataWorks. He said he wanted to discuss changes to their contract."

"Oh, right," I say, tossing the crumpled wrapper of the muffin into Naomi's trash bin. "His contract is up for renewal soon, and he wants his monthly bill reduced, but I think there's a chance to lock him into a bigger package." My mind becomes a jumbled mess of strategy as I figure out how to upsell him without him even realizing it. "I should call him sooner than later." That muffin break was nice, but I can't afford to wander about eating fresh baked goods. This is my company, and it requires my full attention. I reach my office door and turn around to face Naomi and Thea. "Thank you, Naomi, for taking that call and for the muffin. But to be honest, I don't think answering my phone is a full-time job. I'm perfectly capable of managing my time. I've been running this company for thirteen years and have never had an assistant…"

Naomi is staring at me in a way that makes me lose my train of thought. She pulls a tissue from the box on her desk and hands it to me. In a quiet voice, she says, "You have a massive eye booger in the corner of your left eye."

Blood rushes to my cheeks as I rip the tissue from her hands and frantically wipe at the corner of both eyes. She said the left, but I need to be thorough. What a horrifying thing to be made aware of. How long would Thea or my other employees have let me walk around like that?

Naomi smiles, and warmth spreads through my chest. "Don't worry. It just means you're human."

I hope she isn't around long enough to learn how wrong she is about that.

Uncomfortable and frustrated with how this interaction has gone, I straighten my tie and tug on the cuffs of my dress shirt. I wanted her and Thea to see how much better off I am on my own. That I'm a confident, successful man in peak physical condition, with a mind that never runs out of brilliant ideas. And I wanted to intimidate her a little bit. Not frighten her, exactly, but to make the hierarchy between us clear in a nonverbal way.

Isn't that how most assistants see their superiors? Through a lens of admiration and fear?

"Oh no, you got some blueberry juice on your tie," Naomi says, showing me the blueish-purple splotch on the bottom of my tie. She scurries over to the bag slung over her chair and digs through it. Her movements are so smooth, it's like her feet are gliding across the drab gray carpet. "Ah! Found it."

With what looks like a bright orange marker in her hand, she comes back over, grabs my tie, and presses the end of the marker into the stain.

"I never go anywhere without a Tide pen. These things always come in handy."

Thea chuckles. "You're welcome," she mouths to me before turning on her heel and heading toward the elevator.

Naomi leans in to focus on removing the stain, closing the distance between us, and I can't keep myself from inhaling the scent of her hair as it falls over her cheek. I expect the scent to be fresh. Calming even, like the sea, but…there is nothing. Slowly, I take another breath in, certain I'm mistaken. Humans always have a strong scent, and it's usually dreadful. Even the good-smelling mortals tend to wear too many fragrances at once, making the overall scent impossible to enjoy, much like stepping into a candle store.

How is it possible that Naomi doesn't have a scent? Not even a bad one? I don't detect any kind of shampoo, deodorant, soap, or perfume on her skin. My nose is so strong that normally I can determine which products a human has used and how long ago. If it was too long ago, the scent of unwashed skin becomes overpowering. But Naomi doesn't smell unwashed or washed. There's nothing there. It's unnerving.

"See? All better," she says with a proud grin as she holds up my tie.

"Thank you."

Well, I'm stuck with her now. She has proven herself to be far too useful for me to fire. I suppose I'll have to wait for her to make a mistake. As soon as that happens, she's gone.

The rest of Naomi's first day is filled with visits from people trying to help her get settled into her new role. I know because I spend my entire morning and afternoon watching the flurry of activity through my office window. It's frustrating how quickly my employees seem to take to her. Anyone who passes her desk gives a smile and an introduction, and then I hear them offer to help her whenever she needs it. It's not as if I want them to bully her, but the more connections she makes and the more favors she banks, the longer she'll be here.

At one point, the head of HR helps her set up the phone on her desk, and they manage to forward my calls to her. No one can access me directly now, and it sets me on edge. It'll save time having Naomi field calls that I don't need to waste my time taking, but now she'll be privy to sensitive information I'm not ready to share.

At six o'clock, most of the office has emptied for the day, and I take the opportunity to make myself a coffee and a turkey sandwich in the kitchen. I eat at the long steel counter, reveling in the silence. My employees work hard, and I'm grateful to each of them, but my favorite time of day is once they've left, and I can move freely about the building without the scrutinizing looks of each person I pass.

Upon returning to my corner of the top floor, I find Naomi still at her desk, her tiny fingers rapidly striking the keys of her laptop.

"Naomi, you should go home for the day. There will be plenty of emails to send tomorrow."

She smiles, showing her many white teeth. They're slightly sharper than most human teeth I've seen, and I'm surprised I didn't notice this earlier. "Oh, it's okay," she says. "I don't mind working late. I'm a night owl anyway, so this is when I shine."

I hope this vigor for her new role wears off soon. The last thing I need is her hanging around until all hours of the night. There are other tasks I must see to, and she can't be here to witness them.

I pick up a snow globe from the corner of her desk and shake it. The white flakes swirl around the inside of the glass orb, falling atop the mountain peak, tall buildings, and the strange saucer-shaped structure that stands taller than the rest. "Seattle?" I ask, reading the text on the base of the snow globe. "This is where you're from?"

"Yeah," she says, her tone wistful. "I miss it." She lets out a sigh that makes me long to hear more, and I recoil in disgust at the unfamiliar emotion.

Her head jerks back in confusion, and I fumble with the snow globe, almost dropping it, before returning it to its home on her desk. "Uh, listen…" I begin. "Most of my waking hours are spent in this building, and I would never expect you to be here as late as I am, so I insist, go home for the day."

In Naomi's dark brown eyes, I notice flecks of gold close to her pupils. I also see a flicker of something I can't identify. Suspicion maybe? Though I can't imagine why.

"You got it, boss," she says, closing her laptop and tidying up her work area.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

This is not how I wanted this day to go, but I suppose I can tolerate her presence for the rest of the week.

She puts on her coat and hat and says, "Have a good night," as I head into my office.

"You as well."

I wait twelve minutes––more than enough time for Naomi to walk over to the elevators, ride down to the parking garage, and get in her vehicle––before I shut down my computer and lock up my office.

My ride on the elevator is short as I'm the only one in it, and I take it down to the basement level that sits beneath the parking garage. This floor is the reason I bought the building in the first place, and the most important work I do happens down here.

"Kyan," Andrei greets with a nod. This part of the basement is the only area that resembles a corporate office.

There is a cluster of three desks in the center of the room, one of which is currently occupied by Andrei. The lights are dim, as the brightness from the large computer monitors provides more than enough light to fill the room. There is a fake plant in the far corner, a ratty blue couch in the other corner, and a full-size fridge sits between two tables covered in snacks and soft drinks on the back wall.

"Andrei, any sightings today?" I ask. I hired him to take over monitoring reported UFO sightings across the country. For the first few years after I won the bid to take over the contract with the Pentagon, I monitored the sightings myself, clearing them from the database almost as soon as they were entered. Now, Andrei does this for me.

The Pentagon had no business giving me this contract, but it became immediately clear when I put in a bid that the potential of aliens entering Earth's atmosphere is at the bottom of their list of national security concerns.

It is, however, at the very top of mine. Now that my brothers and I are here, I need to know the minute someone sees something suspicious in the sky. It's not impossible that our handlers would follow us here, and it's likely other galactic beings are interested in harvesting Earth's resources. This way, I'll be one of the first to know if there's an enemy approaching.

He shakes his head. "Just one this morning coming out of Muskegon, Michigan, at nine twenty-seven central-standard time, but it's been cleared. The couple was high on mushrooms at the time, so it was easy to eliminate."

"Very good," I reply. "I need to check on the recruits. Keep it up."

"Yes, sir," I hear him say as I exit through the hidden side door and walk down a long utility hallway. I've added lights to it, but with the cement walls, dirty floor, and steel pipes running alongside me, it would take more than a few sconces to make the space bright.

At the end of the hall is a military grade, five-ton, blast-resistant door the color of fresh grass. I enter the nine-digit code on the keypad, and it opens for me slowly. The scents of blood and sweat grow stronger the wider the entrance becomes, and I can't help but smile as I watch the beasts before me roll across the padded floor, tearing fresh wounds into each other's thick hides. Already, I can tell their form is improving, as well as their stamina.

It seems my army is almost ready for battle.