If there was ever a perfect way to start a new chapter in life, Ava Carter was sure it didn’t involve getting stuck in an elevator, spilling coffee on her blouse, or walking into the wrong office and calling a very serious-looking janitor “Mr. Blackwood.”

Yet, here she was—standing in front of the actual Damien Blackwood, CEO of Blackwood Enterprises, with her resume slightly bent, her cheeks flaming red, and her right shoe squeaking like a dying rubber duck.

“Miss Carter,” Damien said coolly, barely glancing up from the file in his hand. “You’re… late.”

“In my defense,” she began, straightening her polka-dot blouse (a very un-CEO-appropriate choice, she now realized), “the elevator got stuck, and there was this very aggressive pigeon that refused to move, and—”

He raised an eyebrow. Just one. Like he’d mastered the art of intimidation through minimal muscle movement.

“I don’t care.”

Ava’s mouth snapped shut. Right. No pigeon talk. Got it.

She sat down too quickly, misjudging the distance between her and the chair. The result: a dramatic flop that echoed across the sleek, glass-walled office. A pause. Damien finally looked up.

“That chair has been in this office for three years. It has never made that sound before.”

Ava forced a nervous laugh. “It’s just... happy to see me?”

Another silence.

She cleared her throat. “Mr. Blackwood, I know I’m not the most experienced, or the most graceful—obviously—but I’m hardworking, loyal, and I make a mean cup of coffee. Unless it’s espresso. Or anything that requires a machine that hisses.”

Damien tapped his pen slowly, eyes unreadable. “You have no experience as a personal assistant. You spilled coffee on your own resume. And you addressed the janitor as me.”

“In my defense, he had a very commanding presence.”

“I hired him last week. He’s seventy-three.”

Ava winced. This was going well. Exactly how her horoscope had predicted: “A new opportunity may leave you red-faced but determined. Avoid large birds and CEOs.”

She stood. “I understand if you don’t think I’m qualified. Thank you for your time.”

“Sit down.”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

“I said, sit down.” He leaned back in his chair. “I need a new assistant. My last one cried in the bathroom three times a day and once ran into a wall trying to avoid me.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s... impressive.”

“I don’t need perfect. I need... not dramatic.”

Ava tilted her head. “You just described me as the complete opposite of that.”

He smirked—barely. A twitch of the lips. Almost imaginary.

“You’ll do. You start tomorrow. Try not to break anything. Especially yourself.”

As Ava left the office—still squeaking with every step—she couldn’t help but grin.

Well, she got the job. Somehow.

Now she just had to survive it.

What do you guys think of Ava and Damien?

who do you think will fall first?

NOW , here is a sneak peek of chapter two

Chapter 2

Ava woke up with her alarm blaring and a piece of toast stuck to her cheek.

"Today," she declared to her reflection, still brushing crumbs out of her hair, "I will be calm. Cool.

Ava woke up with her alarm blaring and a piece of toast stuck to her cheek.

"Today," she declared to her reflection, still brushing crumbs out of her hair, "I will be calm. Cool. Collected."

Three things she absolutely was not.

Twenty minutes later, she dashed into Blackwood Enterprises in mismatched socks, clutching Damien's favorite coffee order like it was the Holy Grail: one black, no sugar, no cream, no joy.

The receptionist, a model-looking woman named Veronica, gave her a once-over that could have frozen lava.

“You’re late.”

“It’s only 8:59,” Ava puffed, checking her phone.

“Mr. Blackwood prefers people to arrive early. He says punctuality is for peasants.”

“Oh,” Ava said. “How... humble of him.”

When she stepped into his office, Damien was already seated, perfectly tailored in a dark gray suit that probably cost more than her apartment.

He didn’t look up. “You’re late.”

“It’s 8:59!”

“You should’ve been here at 8:45.”

“Well, technically, I’ve been in the building since 8:30. I just got... lost... on the 7th floor. There was a very confusing hallway and a janitor with strong opinions about lemon-scented bleach.”

Damien blinked slowly. “Do you have the coffee?”

“Yes, sir.” She handed it to him with a proud smile.

He took one sip—and immediately spat it back into the cup.

“This is vanilla latte.”

She gasped. “But I said black!”

“You said black no joy, remember?”

Ava mentally replayed the scene. Right. No cream. No sugar. No joy. Not a touch of vanilla and hope.

“I... might’ve accidentally grabbed the wrong one. Mine’s black,” she offered helpfully.

He looked at her. “You expect me to drink your coffee?”

“No. Yes? I mean, if you want to? Mine has joy.”

Damien pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have exactly one hour to go back and get the right order. If you return with anything foamy, flavored, or cheerful, I will personally feed it to the shredder.”

Ten minutes later, she was racing out of the elevator again. As the doors closed, she heard Damien sigh, “This is going to be... exhausting.”

---

Ava returned—sweaty but victorious—with the blackest, most joyless coffee known to man.

She placed it on his desk triumphantly. “Mission: Depresso, accomplished.”

For the first time, Damien looked vaguely amused.

“Depresso?” he asked.

She nodded. “Like espresso. But sadder.”

He didn’t laugh. But his lips twitched.

A win.

---

By the end of the day, she’d tripped twice, jammed the printer with a paperclip, and accidentally sent an email that said “Good moaning” instead of “Good morning” to a board member.

But she was still standing.

Barely.

And as she left, Damien’s voice stopped her in the doorway.

“You’re not terrible.”

She turned, blinking. “Thank you... I think?”

He went back to his laptop.

She smiled all the way home.

Guys ,I think Damien is starting to crack 🤤❤️

What ava said

We are going to an important events Damien said without looking up

Yh

By 7:00 PM, Ava was dressed in a gown she borrowed from her cousin—a slinky navy number that made her feel like an underdressed fish at a fancy aquarium. Her makeup was... decent. Her hair was... controlled chaos.

Damien, on the other hand, looked like a magazine cover that had been airbrushed by angels.

“Stop staring,” he said as she gawked at him in the limo.

“I’m not staring. I’m appreciating,” she corrected. “There’s a difference.”

He side-eyed her. “Try to speak like an adult human tonight.”

“I am an adult human.”

“Debatable.”

---

At the gala, people were swarming like bees in tuxedos. Ava clung to Damien’s side like a shy decorative plant.

A tall woman in diamonds gave her a fake smile. “And you are?”

“Oh. I’m Ava. Mr. Blackwood’s—uh—emergency date-slash-coffee-fetcher.”

The woman blinked. Damien sighed.

“She’s my assistant,” he said. “She also apparently moonlights as a stand-up comedian.”

The woman walked off with a sniff. Ava whispered, “Was she important?”

“She owns a chain of luxury spas.”

“Oh. Cool. I shaved my legs for this.”

Damien nearly choked on his champagne.

---

The night spiraled from there.

A waiter tripped, launching shrimp cocktail into the air like a seafood firework. It landed—of course—on Ava.

A guest tried to flirt with her, thinking she was “part of the entertainment.” She spilled water down his trousers in response.

Then came the toast.

Damien stepped up to speak. Ava stood behind him, smiling politely... until her heel got stuck in the carpet. She tried to free it discreetly.

She failed.

She face-planted into the podium.

The mic screeched. The room gasped. Damien paused, glanced down, and muttered, “Why are you like this?”

From the floor, Ava whispered, “Send help.”

---

On the ride home, silence settled like fog.

Until Damien muttered, “You dropped a shrimp in my pocket.”

Ava covered her face. “This is why I don’t get invited to weddings.”

“I can see why.”

Then... he laughed.

Not a smirk. Not a twitch.

An actual laugh.

It was low, unexpected, and weirdly hot.

She looked at him. “You laughed.”

“I regret it already,” he muttered.

---

Back at her apartment, she stepped out of the limo, turned, and gave him a cheesy salute.

“Thanks for the shrimp memories, boss.”

He rolled his eyes. But for a second—just one—he looked like he wasn’t completely made of ice.

And that second stuck with her all night.

Chapter 4

Ava hadn’t even made it to her desk when it hit her.

The whispering.

The side-eyes.

The suspicious smirks.

“Something’s wrong,” she whispered to herself, clutching her bag like it might protect her from office gossip

Guys ☺️ things are about to get really messy here so stay tuned and hit that follow button and don't forget to like, what do you think happened in chapter 4 leave your answers in the comment section 🤗🤗