Chapter 1

After three grueling years as an overworked executive assistant at Grant Group, my life motto has been boiled down to four simple words: make money and leave.

Until the day a falling potted cactus performs a precision strike on my skull. Along with the concussion, I unlock a new feature: I can now hear the inner monologue of my ice-cold CEO, Alex Grant.

On the surface, he remains as cold as ice as he barks an order, "Zoe Brooks. Coffee."

Yet, loud and clear, I hear the frantic screaming inside his head. 'She looks so cute today. I wonder if she knows I like my coffee black. This is the ultimate test to see if we are truly meant to be.'

I stare down at the cup in my hands—a caramel latte loaded with whole milk and extra sugar—and fall into a deep silence.

"A test, huh? Game on, buddy," I murmured.

*****

"Zoe Brooks, I need the final version of this contract on my desk by three o'clock sharp," Alex Grant barked.

His voice carried the sharp edge of a winter gale, devoid of even a flicker of warmth. His long fingers pushed a thick stack of documents across the desk. Not a trace of emotion stirred in his deep eyes. He was impossible to reach.

I took the files with a deferential nod. "Right away, Mr. Grant."

Having survived three years as the right-hand woman in the executive suite, I was well acquainted with Alex's cruel management style.

He was a business prodigy, a human money-printing machine, and the ultimate fantasy of every single woman in the building. Unfortunately, this dream guy was a block of eternal permafrost, automatically dropping the room temperature by ten degrees the second he walked in.

I was just an ordinary corporate drone. My daily routine consisted of keeping this tyrant happy and collecting my paycheck.

However, just as I turned around to dive back into my soul-crushing workload, a voice that absolutely did not belong in this sterile office echoed in my mind.

'Was I too mean just now? Will she think I am a tyrant who only knows how to exploit his employees? But all the billionaire CEOs in the movies act like this. Maybe my acting is off.'

I froze mid-step and whipped my head around.

It was just the two of us in the office.

Alex maintained his severe expression, fixing his eyes on his computer. His side profile looked like a perfectly sculpted piece of art.

Was I hallucinating?

I shook my head, convinced that the sheer volume of my overtime had finally triggered a psychological breakdown. I hurried out of his office with the files. But the second I sat down at my cubicle, the voice returned.

'Why did she walk away so fast? Is she mad at me? I have to find a way to make it up to her. Oh, I think she loves that new coffee shop downstairs.

'But how do I give her a drink without making it weird? Just hand it to her? No, that is way too obvious. It completely ruins my cold and detached image.

'I know. I will buy afternoon tea for the entire office and just hand her one casually. I am a literal genius.'

I closed my eyes briefly.

Stiffly, I turned my head and peered through the blinds. Alex was sitting bolt upright at his desk and typing furiously on his keyboard, looking every bit the dedicated executive working himself to the bone for the company.

If it weren't for the ridiculously cheerful voice singing in my head, I would have been completely fooled.

Was the world glitching, or was I losing my mind?

Desperate to test this absurd theory, I took a deep breath, picked up my desk phone, and dialed his extension.

"Mr. Grant, do you have any specific directives regarding the addendums for the Westside Development project?" I asked in my most professional tone.

"No. Follow standard procedure," Alex offered his icy reply over the receiver.

But inside my head, it was a totally different story.

'She called me first. She is totally thinking about me. I knew it. There is a magnetic pull between us.

'Addendums? What addendums? I completely forgot. This is bad. My alpha CEO persona is crumbling.

'Think, Alex. Come on. You are the boss. I got it.'

Through the receiver, I heard him clear his throat. He adopted an authoritative tone. "Do you really need to bother me with trivial matters like this?"

Then, with a sharp click, he hung up on me.

Holding the receiver, I froze.

So, I wasn't hallucinating. I could actually hear my boss' thoughts.

To the world, my ruthless boss ruled the company with iron-fisted logic and detached elegance. But inside, he was a drama queen with frantic monologues in his head.

The realization hit me like a freight train, proving far more shocking than the cactus that had cracked my skull.

At ten minutes to three, I walked into Alex's office and handed over the revised documents.

He took them and flipped through the pages with a lethal seriousness, looking as though he were reviewing a treaty that would determine the fate of the company.

'Wow, her font choice is so elegant, and the paper smells faintly like her perfume. She smells incredible.

'Her punctuation is flawless, and the formatting is so easy on the eyes. As expected of the woman I like, even her administrative skills are top-tier.

'No, I cannot let it go to her head. A good leader knows how to keep his employees humble.'

He snapped the folder shut and looked up at me with piercing eyes.

He said, "Zoe."

"Yes, Mr. Grant," I replied, my breath hitching.

"This draft is barely acceptable," he said flatly. "Pay closer attention to the details next time. I do not want to see any more careless mistakes."

"Understood, Mr. Grant," I replied.

'My aura just now was so intimidating. She is definitely overwhelmed by my presence. I can see the absolute worship in her eyes.'

Worship?

I looked at his deadpan, handsome face, listening to the borderline hysterical laughter echoing in his mind. It took every ounce of my willpower not to roll my eyes right then and there.

Worship, my foot.

I just wanted to clock out.