Chapter 2

I stared at the printer in front of me, which was making a clanking noise like it was on its last legs.

"Press the green button," Wanda said from behind me, her voice tight with frustration through clenched teeth. "Don't hit the red one. That's the cancel button!"

My finger froze awkwardly in mid-air.

I watched in horror as the twenty-page proposal shot out of the printer.

Then, just like a blizzard of snowflakes, the pages jammed and shredded into tiny bits, scattering everywhere.

The office fell into an eerie silence.

"Grayson Carroll."

Wanda grabbed the back of my collar and hissed, "What year are you living in? Did you type your college thesis on a typewriter?"

I blinked innocently. "We didn't have computer classes in my village school."

There were a few snickers from behind the monitors.

Wanda's temples throbbed, and I could see the veins bulging on her forehead.

"Everyone, listen up!" She suddenly clapped her hands. "From today on, no one is allowed to let Grayson touch any office equipment! That includes, but is not limited to, printers, shredders, water dispensers—"

"Not even the coffee machine?" I whispered, barely daring to ask.

Wanda shot me a death glare. "Especially the coffee machine!"

*****

In the break room, 10:15 AM, I found myself staring blankly at the fully automatic coffee machine, its interface covered in foreign language, totally lost.

Back home, my butler always brought fresh coffee right to my bed.

The last time I actually made coffee myself was at a ski resort abroad—with an 18th-century antique pot, no less.

"Out of the way." Wanda elbowed past me and slammed the power button. "Watch carefully. Even a total idiot could figure this out."

Her fingers flew over the buttons, reminding me of those Wall Street traders.

Thirty seconds later, a steaming cup of black coffee was shoved in front of me.

"Drink it," she ordered.

I took a sip and almost blurted out, "Did they brew this in a dumpster?"

Forcing it down, I managed a twisted smile. "It's... good."

"Liar." She suddenly leaned in, her nose nearly brushing my chin. "You just frowned."

A faint scent of jasmine shampoo drifted over.

That was when I noticed a tiny mark at the corner of her right eye, hidden in the shadow of her lashes like a speck of stardust.

"It's a civet coffee blend." She squinted at me. "Got a problem with that?"

"Honestly, it just makes me miss home a little," I admitted, choosing my words carefully.

"What, missing your village's moonshine?"

"Just missing my grandma's pig."

Without missing a beat, I said, "It scarfed down some coffee beans last year, had the runs for three days, and then kicked the bucket."

Wanda just stared at me, completely stunned.

*****

2:30 PM, department meeting.

"The new quarterly proposal is due next week!"

The planning director, Ellery Montgomery, rapped the whiteboard. "Wanda, you're in charge. The newbie—watch and learn."

I was in the middle of checking the Carroll Group's equity structure on my phone when I got called out. "Excuse me, could you put your phone away?"

Every head in the room snapped in my direction. Under the table, Wanda gave me a sharp kick, and my hand jerked, almost dropping my phone.

"Ding!"

Suddenly, my phone's voice assistant blasted through the meeting room speakers. "Here's the latest financial report for the Carroll Group. Total assets: 76 billion dollars."

Dead silence reigned.

I scrambled to lock my screen. "Uh, I was just listening to a finance podcast."

Wanda facepalmed.

Ellery shot me a look like I was totally clueless.

"Speaking of the Carroll Group." Ellery suddenly switched gears, "Headquarters is sending down a new VP. He'll be here tomorrow."

A chill ran down my spine.

"Word is, he's Chairman Nelson Carroll's right-hand man." Ellery swept the room with a knowing look. "He's here to whip our little outpost into shape."

Wanda muttered under her breath, "Here we go again with the corporate bullshit..."

I absentmindedly rubbed my watch strap, thinking the old man sure moved fast.

*****

Overtime, the office was deserted except for Wanda and me.

She was frowning at her computer screen like she was plotting to murder a client.

"Aren't you going to have dinner, Ms. Tillery?" I offered her a sandwich.

Without looking up, she replied, "I'm broke."

"My treat," I said.

"With your intern salary?" she scoffed.

But then she suddenly stopped, eyes glued to the logo on the wrapper. "Hold up—is this takeout from that insanely pricey pizza place? The one that's like 800 bucks per person?"

Crap. I totally forgot to have my assistant swap out the packaging.

"Just a cheap copy," I blurted out. "Same stuff as the convenience store downstairs, fifteen bucks tops."

She took a doubtful bite, then her eyes went wide. "Wait... since when do knockoffs taste like Michelin-star food?"

Suddenly, the glass door swung open.

Grover came in grinning from ear to ear. "Ms. Tillery, the new VP wants to get a sneak peek at the planning department."

I nearly choked.

Right behind him was Andrew Shortle, my dad's personal secretary.

Andrew's eyes zeroed in on the sandwich in my hand, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

The last time I saw that exact look was when I chewed bubble gum during a board meeting.

"Is this the new intern?" Andrew asked, acting all formal like we'd never met before as he reached out his hand.

I shook his hand, fingers still smeared with mayo. "Hey there, sir. Grayson—just a country kid trying to survive in the city."

Wanda suddenly cut in, "Mr. Shortle, our intern might not have much experience, but he's really hardworking."

She stood in front of me like a mama cat guarding her kitten.

Andrew's glasses flashed with a cold light. "Is that so? Word is, he can't even work a printer."

"I taught him." Wanda lifted her chin. "Now he can handle the basics on his own."

She lied with a straight face.

If it weren't for the setting, I would've applauded her right then and there.

Andrew smiled knowingly. "Perfect. Starting tomorrow, Grayson will be my assistant. No objections, Ms. Tillery?"

Wanda's fists clenched.

*****

9:00 PM, outside the office building.

The rain was coming down in sheets.

Wanda was rummaging through her bag for an umbrella under the awning, while I pulled out my phone to call my driver.

"Use mine." She suddenly shoved an umbrella into my hands. "Where do you live?"

"No, really, it's fine..." I started.

"Cut the crap!" she snapped, shoving the folded umbrella into my hands. "With your delicate little rich boy act, you'd catch a cold just from a little rain."

I watched her dash into the downpour, her ponytail quickly turning into dripping strands.

And then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Andrew: [Mr. Nelson Carroll wants to know if you're done playing around.]

When I looked up, Wanda was across the street, struggling to flag down a cab, completely drenched.

Her hair was dripping, soaking her cheap suit and turning it a shade darker.

I called my butler. "Get two sets of dry clothes ready, and whip up some hot cocoa."

After a beat, I added, "And make it look like it came from a delivery service."