Chapter 1 1 - Atlas Grayson

Wednesday nights at La Dolce Vita had never been so disastrous. This time, it was as if every rich businessman breathing in the Manhattan borough of New York City had stampeded through this restaurant, but as it so happened, the lowest point of Jia's evening hadn't even come to pass yet. She had known something was wrong when Richard sent everyone else home minutes after the massive VIP dinner event concluded - but then asked her to stay behind to clean up. Alone. Yes, he was an exploitative asshole who freely abused her vulnerable circumstances, but he had never done this kind of thing before: he simply hadn't ever been around for the Wednesday night clean up himself. Ever. If anything, he was the one who always went home early after the weekly Hell Night and made everyone else take care of the mess without him. But not today, though. No, not tonight - because the owner of the five-star La Dolce Vita was intent on making an even worse mess rather than cleaning anything up. A wine glass behind Jia toppled over and spilled its half-drunk contents onto the white tablecloth. She was beyond caring about it now, however, and she blindly reached behind her for the empty bottle she knew was close by. When she found it, she wrapped her fingers around the slender neck and swung it around herself with all her might. This had not been part of the job description. Richard dodged away just in time as she brandished it threateningly at him. "You bitch, " the man seethed. He shrugged off his uniform suit jacket and tossed it to the floor. "This is happening whether you like it or not -" His voice began to climb to a snarling shout, but suddenly he lunged forward mid-sentence, grabbing for any part of Jia he could reach. She tried to swing the wine bottle at him again, but this time, he simply swatted it away and sent it shattering against the wall. Too shocked to scream, Jia blindly clawed at him, her breath coming out in strangled, high pitched huffs like a tea kettle beginning to whistle. Why couldn't she scream? Why wasn't her voice coming out? Oh, God, she thought as she felt his hands squeeze around her wrists. Oh, God - He slammed her backward with such force that she staggered on her feet, and he took the opportunity to grab her by the shoulders and shove her onto the table once more. He then drove her back with a ruthless push until her legs dangled off the edge, feet straining to find the ground again. Dishware, utensils, and wineglasses tumbled off the table in a violent cacophony. He grabbed one shoulder strap of her tuxedo apron, shaking off her scrabbling hands, and with one mighty pull, he ripped her uniform. The white button-down dress shirt underneath would soon follow suit - Except it didn't, because the double doors behind Richard swung open savagely, striking the walls so hard that the sound of wood cracking split the air. The shocked man had no time to protest before a fist crashed into his face - two fists, actually, in quick, savage succession. The crack of knuckles hitting bone sliced through the VIP room, making Jia flinch as if she was the one getting thrashed. As it happened, it was Richard who crumpled like a trashed solo cup and hit the ground face-first. Silence fell, and the unexpected Good Samaritan looked up from the prone man's form to catch Jia's wide-eyed stare. In the sudden stillness, she scrambled to her feet and stepped on a wine glass that had rolled in the way. Glass shards shattered and splintered over the floor, but before she could trip and fall into the deadly mess, strong arms caught her by the waist. The rescuer said nothing about it, and she was glad - she didn't know how she would have replied if he had. She instead jumped back as if he had burned her, and she scrambled to hold together her tattered tuxedo apron in order to salvage what little remained of her professional demeanor. "I'll call the police," the stranger said, his voice emotionless and cool. He began sliding out his phone from the pocket of his suit pants. Jia's head jerked up. She hadn't had the presence of mind to look the man in the face yet, but now she did - terrified of the calamity his help would bring down on her head. "Wait!" she cried out, reaching up to try to grab the phone away from the man's ear. "Wait, please!" The man easily held it out of her reach, nearly a foot taller than she was and with arms to match. "Excuse me?" he asked, and Jia flinched at the irritation in his voice. She remembered the voice well, she thought. That smooth baritone. The cruel articulation of every sound on his tongue, crisp and clean like polished diamonds. The biting venom that only barely concealed itself behind each syllable. Except back then, when she had first met him - what, six months ago now? - he hadn't bothered hiding it at all. He had given her his scorn freely, and she had weathered it all under the staring eyes of everyone around them. -------- "Do you think you're special?" he asked coolly, his words marble and his eyes ice. "Chasing me down yourself and trying to persuade me with passion? Was that the plan?" Jia continued to hold the paper out in front of her, presenting it with both hands to him. "Please," she said, keeping her voice strong and steady even though she thought she could feel him killing her with just a look. "I need this job. I'll work harder than you could ever want. You won't regret it, sir." He swiftly snatched the sheet out of her hands with murderous grace, and with his other hand, tore the paper in two. He overlapped the two halves and tore them into quarters - and then into eighths, and then half that again. He tossed the pieces to the side, letting them flutter down to the asphalt. "I don't need more desperate, entitled faces in my agency. If I ever see yours again, I'll have security handle it." --------- And now, here he was. Atlas Grayson, CEO of Pandora Lights Agency, the most lucrative company of talent scouts this side of the country. Maybe on both sides. In any case, he was one of the faces who had attended the VIP dinner earlier tonight, and she had recognized him then, too. But Jia had tamped down her embarrassment and anxiety and behaved as usual, turning on the professional warmth and charm that she was known for instead. She had nothing to worry about, she had told herself at the time. Atlas Grayson saw so many faces in a day that he would never remember her; it was no use being paranoid. Aside from asking for another refill of refreshments, he didn't have a single reason to look twice at her. And when all the guests had left for the night, him included, she had breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing had happened. He hadn't made a move to embarrass her or confront her in any way. But here he was now, staring her down with their faces scant inches apart. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he said, "but I think it's necessary to call the authorities since a man just tried to force himself on someone." His disdainful tone sounded more like a criticism of her intelligence rather than a show of concern, but Jia forced her lips to move in measured pleas rather than in retaliatory defensiveness. She had to stop him, she thought desperately, before he ruined everything . "I can explain. It wasn't what it looked like. Thank you, but it isn't necessary - wait! Please!" she begged when he shook his head and made to dial emergency again. "The thing is, he's my boss, and...""That's irrelevant. He assaulted you. The authorities will take him away.""It's not...I - he's been paying me in cash for some time to work here," she said weakly. She hoped he would understand without her going into too much detail - that she was working for money under the table. Quite illegal, and most definitely punishable by law. So despite what Richard had just done, she couldn't afford to give him the chance to take her down with him. He was the kind of man who would do such a thing, too, without a doubt: out of pure spite, he would report to them exactly how much unreported income one of his employees had received over the past eight months. Forget prison time - there was no way Jia would be able to pay the heaping back taxes the authorities would find out she owed. And then she would lose Jisu and Jini, too, in the process. When Atlas Grayson continued to stare at her, she quickly forged ahead, desperately trying to change his mind no matter what it took. "I didn't have a choice," she said. "I have a family. They need me. I didn't know what else to do, and I needed the money fast. Richard had an opening. And everyone else wanted to run credit checks on applicants, and I've never had a credit history. And I don't have my own vehicle, and no one considers the subway-bus route reliable transportation -""I'm not interested," the man interrupted. "Tax evasion concerns aside, you do realize that if you don't report this, your boss here will probably end up hurting someone else." Jia's face immediately twisted in guilty shame, but she continued to hold her ground. She couldn't give in. If there was anything less at stake, she would have been happy to do exactly what she ought to do, but she had so much to lose..."I can't," she insisted. "I can't. I'm sorry.""Save your apologies to whoever he hurts next." Despite his condemnatory words, however, Atlas Grayson refrained from dialing 911 and simply observed Jia's face with a hawk-like intensity. Jia quavered under the force of his electric-blue eyes that felt like they were searing straight through her. His perfectly arranged black hair - neither messy nor too obviously groomed - and clean-shaven, professional countenance felt too powerful in their regal, elite beauty. He was a powerful, wealthy CEO, and she was just a waitress in a pathetically torn uniform, shaking in her shoes. She wondered what the likelihood was of the man dropping dead from a sudden, miraculous aneurysm right this second. "I'm sorry," she said again. She knew what she was doing was wrong. Knew what she was asking of him was wrong. But Jisu and Jini didn't deserve to suffer for her mistakes, and she couldn't let them face the inevitable consequences that would result if she let this problem get any bigger. The silence clawed around them with every second that ticked by until finally, the man opened his mouth again. Jia's heart clenched in her chest. It was too late, she thought. She had to get out of here and figure out what to do, how to make Richard shut up about her, and how to keep the twins out of this mess - "Fine," said Atlas, and though the word he spoke was a concession, a surrender, Jia suddenly felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as if she were in danger. She took a fast, deep breath. "Thank you," she said in a rush. "Thank you so much. I'll take care of this, so please allow me to call a cab for you." She had to get him out of here before he could change his mind. She made to move around him to get to the double doors leading out of the VIP room, but an iron grip around her upper arm made her stop short. She looked up in shock when the CEO pulled her close and leaned into her face with a menacing glower. "I wasn't done talking," he said. "In return for this favor , you're going to do something for me." Jia's face paled. "What's that, sir?" she asked, simply because she could feel him ordering her to, silently, with the cold look in his eyes. Her voice came out in a whisper, but it seemed to satisfy him anyway. "You're going to work for me," he told her, his voice dripping venom. "Until you drop dead."

Chapter 2 2 - Home

"Your address, miss?" Jia's head jerked up. "Sorry," she said hastily, wanting to pinch herself for zoning out in a stranger's car. This was why she preferred the subway. Yes, it would have taken far longer than this forty minute drive from Manhattan to the Bronx, but anonymity among strangers felt so much safer. And she could only imagine what kind of attention they were attracting now as they cruised down a dirty, pot-hole ridden street manned only by a few homeless, some delinquents out past curfew, and generally everything that the rich and glitzy Manhattan wasn't. The Bronx borough - particularly this side of it - was a different kind of beast altogether. "If you could just drop me off at the intersection of Mancala and Grant, I'd appreciate it.""I have strict orders to see you to your doorstep, ma'am," the chauffeur said apologetically. "It is very late. And I think in your state, you may draw the wrong attention.""I have something to do before I get home, sir," Jia lied. Vague, yes, but he couldn't disprove it. That was her business. Too bad; he seemed like a nice man. She wished she could be honest with him, but circumstances weren't so forgiving. Talk about a stereotype, though, she thought privately: a chauffeur in his mid-forties, elegantly sporting salt-and-pepper hair, and a faded English accent on top of that? Ticked off all the boxes. At least appeared far more personable than his employer, Atlas Grayson. She hadn’t been able to help but like his smile when he held the car door open for her earlier on the curb in front of the restaurant. There had been no judgment or discontent in his eyes, even though he must have wondered about the sudden development. Indeed, Atlas Grayson had given him no explanation for his orders to take Jia home. Nor had he said anything about what he planned to do with Richard, who still lay unconscious in the VIP room and possibly missing a few teeth now. "You don't work here, remember?" Atlas had sardonically replied when she protested leaving. "You need to get out of here. I'll handle things. Someone will come by in the morning to pick you up at eight, so be ready." With no choice but to reluctantly obey, Jia had found herself where she was now, in the backseat of his car. Leather seats with heating functionality, a spotless interior, tinted windows - this luxurious German sedan was worth far more than Jia would ever be able to afford in her lifetime. "I am happy to take you there as well, ma'am," the man offered kindly. "But I still need to know your address for the morning." Ah, right, Jia thought with a sinking heart. Mr. Grayson had told her to be ready by eight. She was supposed to start her morning shift at the restaurant again at seven-thirty, but that was out of the question now. Incidentally, that left her with a conspicuously unoccupied block of time tomorrow until the evening, something that the man had taken full advantage of. "It would be a lot of trouble for you to come out this way," she said, trying to steer destiny in a more favorable direction. "I can take the subway and be where I'm needed. I'll be early, and that way I won't be such an imposition.""That's all right, miss.""Please, call me Jia." Maybe she just needed to make it more personal to sway the chauffeur. Her heart thudded anxiously; until she knew what kind of trouble she was in, she didn't want to reveal her address. She couldn't let the twins get pulled into this. "Then I'll have to insist you call me William," the man responded warmly, and despite her nervousness, Jia felt the uneasy knot in her stomach relax. Something about him made her want to trust him, but she couldn't afford to take that risk...could she? "I don't know your exact circumstances, Jia, but I promise you that nothing untoward will happen. I only want to see you safe, and I suspect it'll do both of us good to have someone watching your back tonight. Even if it's only to your doorstep." Jia looked down at her lap where the tattered top half of her apron lay in a crumple, and a small wave of guilt brushed her conscience. William did seem genuinely worried. It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess what might have happened to her, even if he hadn't been there to personally witness it. It was obvious she had been a victim of violence tonight, and if their positions were reversed, she was sure she would have had a similar reaction. It was getting late, too. With a defeated sigh, Jia gave William her address, and several minutes later, he came to a slow stop outside an old apartment building. She had only just undone her seatbelt when the chauffeur came out of the car and opened the door for her. "Thank you," she said in a small voice, cowed by his elegant kindness. "You are very welcome, Miss Jia. Have a good night." Jia waved goodbye just before disappearing through the building entrance. She quickly took off her torn tuxedo apron and draped it over her arm to hide its condition before trudging up the stairs to the second landing. She would just tell her brother and sister that work had run late, that was all. If she was careful, they wouldn't notice anything. Or maybe they were already asleep. She slid her key into the lock and slowly unlatched the deadbolt. With a slow, cautious push, she eased the door open, revealing a small, dim living room. On the two seater sofa inside, two lumps huddled against either arm under a shared blanket. "You two should be in bed." Only one pair of eyes glanced up at her. "Come in, you're letting the heat out. And Jini, move your feet. You're kicking me in the shins." The boy shoved at his twin's knee under the blanket. "Jini, move." Jia sighed and stepped into the apartment. "It's a school night. Go to bed, guys." The door latched shut behind her. "Did you at least bring home something to eat if you're staying out this late?" Jini had yet to look up from her phone. "Or did you get a promotion or something?""You two didn’t eat yet? Well, it’s too late now, so save your appetite for breakfast." Jia took off her shoes and set them against the wall, barely registering the sarcasm in the girl’s questions. "Brush your teeth and go to bed.""Do you ever give it a rest, Jia." Jini threw off her corner of the blanket and stood up. "As soon as you walk through the door, it’s a lecture from you. Whatever." She stalked off down the narrow hallway on the other side of the living room, and a few seconds later, the door slammed shut behind her. Jia glanced around, wondering if the neighbors would pound on the walls in response to the noise. When nothing happened, she sighed again and turned to look at Jisu. "You too," she said softly. "It's late.""She's mad because of the math invitational this weekend. You never said for sure if you were coming, so I told her you probably weren't going to make it. It's fine, though. We're allowed to go without a chaperone this year since we're sixteen now, so no need." The boy slid out from the blanket and stretched, reaching for the ceiling with both hands. When had he grown so tall? Jia wondered. And Jini, too, for that matter. "I'll do my best, but something came up tonight -""Something always comes up. Aren't you tired of it yet?" He shrugged before she could answer. "I'm not giving you a hard time. I'm just saying - aren't you tired?" And then he swayed off down the hallway as well, leaving Jia alone in the darkness. She wanted a shower. Needed one, really, but instead she walked over and reached down to grab the blanket that had dropped onto the carpet. She laid it out with a billow over the seat cushions before settling underneath it with a long, weary exhale. The digital clock on the rickety end table by her head was set to six, but as she took deep, calming breaths to soothe her frazzled nerves, she feared she wouldn't be able to sleep at all. Atlas Grayson, her mind whispered. What in the world was she going to do?

Chapter 3 3 - The Resume

"Mr. Grayson, you have a guest waiting in the lobby. Would you like to see her now?""We're not done here.""Yes, sir. My apologies, sir." The intercom clicked off with a swipe of Atlas's finger scarcely before the woman on the other end of the line, his newest assistant, had finished speaking. "You can continue, Daniel," he said with a wave of his hand as if he hadn't just potentially scarred yet another new assistant with his coldness. It didn't matter. She probably wasn't going to last long anyway. "You were saying?" Another man stood before him on the other side of his desk. He too had black hair, but it was sharply groomed and neatly slicked back. Tall and slender, with sharp, haughty green eyes and skin the color and purity of alabaster, he looked like a graceful prince. Though he possessed neither the broad shoulders nor the intimidating, dominant countenance of his superior, this man had an authoritative presence all his own. The title of COO, or Chief Operating Officer, certainly suited him well. With the very tip of his middle finger, he delicately pushed his glasses up his nose by the bridge before answering. "On paper, she had nothing remarkable in terms of qualifications. Sub-par, even. No high school diploma, no GED, no certifications. If I recall correctly, she had worked several entry-level jobs.""Management experience?""Some, but mostly low-end retail and only in the assistant position. No diploma, which would automatically disqualify her from most positions of responsibility," Daniel reminded him. "All of her references had only good things to say about her, however." A small snort left Atlas's nose. "Personal references.""No, sir. Established businesses." Atlas pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed hard circles into the inner corners of his closed eyes. He leaned back with a sigh. "And she applied here -" he began to say, but he cut himself off, unable to make himself continue. "...for a custodial position, sir," Daniel finished for him. "I feel the need to emphasize, again, that she was not here to seek a contract or an agent as you had assumed at the time, sir." He adjusted his glasses again, and when he removed his hand from his face, he was watching the CEO with a raised eyebrow. "That must have been some reunion last night.""She didn't remember me," Atlas told him, but as soon as he said the words, he cursed inwardly. She wouldn't have forgotten him, he realized. She had known exactly who he was; she just hadn't brought it up. "With all due respect, sir, she wouldn't forget your face. You humiliated her while a crowd watched on." Daniel cleared his throat. "But if that's all, I believe you have a guest waiting for you in the lobby.""Send me another copy of her resume before the end of the day. You said you keep a copy from every applicant for twelve months, so hers should still be on file." Atlas tried to recall how long it had been since the fated first encounter, but he remembered nothing of the date. He had no specific memory of anything at all besides the beautiful face that had suddenly appeared before him on his way out of the main lobby. And she had nearly taken his breath away. But that was what beautiful women did. That was their trademark, their trap and trigger. Atlas, fortunately, was no ordinary man. He could certainly recognize beauty in its obvious forms, but his talent lay in resisting it coldly and seeing past the superficial exterior to the value beneath. This woman had simply barged into his path, presuming herself to be so beautiful that he wouldn't be able to resist her - that had happened often enough before his reputation for administering the cruelest of rejections had gotten around. Young women wanting to seduce their way into the entertainment industry - wanting to seduce their way to the top, he had seen so many of them that he was numb to their charms. On days he felt particularly nasty, he would take them to bed as they wished, but then work them mercilessly under contract until they gave up on their own and quit. A valuable lesson on how lucky genetics couldn’t measure up to hard work. And back then, he had recognized the familiar anger that had risen in him when he had seen the young woman approach him with such boldness. But he hadn't been furious enough to be so cruel until he realized that he wanted to give in. What a brilliant disguise, almost good enough to fool even him. She had looked so earnest and innocent as she stood there before him. More than that, he had felt an overwhelming desire to touch her, to hold her face in his hands and run his thumb along her lips just to know how they felt. She’d looked gorgeous. Long, straight, unstyled black hair. Big, dark brown eyes. Soft, natural features that no one could distrust and a quietly radiant countenance. The facade was so good, so convincing that he wanted it to be real - and a ll that had given birth to a kind of wrath that he hadn't felt in years. He had torn her application into pieces, staring into her eyes all the while, daring himself to betray any emotion except a callous indifference. But he hadn’t, so that meant he had won, of course. Against himself. And therefore, he had won against her . No one got the better of Atlas Grayson. It didn't matter that her face and her voice had crossed his mind several more times that evening. It didn't matter that he had thought of her as he stood under the punishing spray of a hot shower before he went to bed, one hand braced against the wall and the other wrapped around his cock. It didn't even matter that he had thought of her for days afterward, replaying the sound of her breathless words as she held her resume out in front of her to him. "Please," she had said. "I'll work harder than you could ever want." He had stroked himself to a second orgasm that night as he lay on top of his sheets, naked and cursing his sudden weakness. He remembered the ache he'd felt inside, the unanswered urge to bury himself in a hot, yielding body. She had been wearing black slacks and a button-up white blouse, he remembered. They had been loose and modest, but Atlas's trained eyes had immediately spotted the almost imperceptible dent under her blouse that betrayed the presence of the bra underneath. He had seen so many naked women in his life that he could already imagine what she looked like under her clothes. "You won't regret it, sir." But none of it mattered, he had told himself then, because he had still won. He would never have to see her again. That was what he had thought at the time, at least. Led astray by his deeply visceral attraction to her, he had panicked and overreacted. Fuck, he thought. He had done all of that over an application for a custodial position. How could he have known! Except he should have, and he hadn't only because he didn't bother to look before leaping to conclusions. "That's correct, sir. I should still have her resume and application in the system. I'll send it to your email before you leave for the day.""Daniel.""Yes, sir?""How is Ava doing? I heard she's planning on coming back stateside." The man turned around. A cold light had enveloped his eyes behind the lenses of the slender glasses. He matched Atlas's stare ounce for ounce, and the air seemed to crackle as if a live current had passed between them. "With all due respect, sir," Daniel said, his voice measured and slow, "that is none of your damn business." He turned and swept out of the office.

Chapter 4 4 - Questions

“Why do you want to work here?" Jia hesitated. “I’m sorry?” she asked, eyeing the man behind the desk with a leery uncertainty disguised as a case of bad hearing. Or maybe she really had heard him wrong, because what he asked made no sense at all. Last she had checked, she hadn’t had a choice in coming here. “Why,” he repeated, stressing the syllable with a sardonic impatience, “do you want to work here, I said.”“I…” Was this a test, or some kind of sick joke? She was here because he had blackmailed her, plain and simple. Jia wished Mr. Grayson had at least invited her to sit before bullying her like this, but there wasn’t even a chair on the other side of his desk for him to offer. He could probably hear the sound of her knees knocking together. “Thanks to your generous offer last night -” she began cautiously, wondering if that was what the man wanted to hear, but he interrupted her with a wave of his hand. “I’m talking about before, Ms. Moon, not now. Why did you apply here?” Jia swallowed hard, her memories instantly slip-sliding down the troubled terrain of their last encounter - besides last night, of course. Did that mean he remembered everything? If that was the case, then what was the purpose of all this? Was he making fun of her, setting her up for humiliation? But no, it hardly seemed his style. Well, not that she would know such a thing intimately - maybe what she meant was, it hardly seemed like something he would be even remotely interested in. He was rich and famous. Surely he had better ways to pass the time than to harass an ordinary blue collar worker? “I have a copy of your application here, Ms. Moon, as well as your resume. And after last night, I’d like to remind you that you are in no position to be dishonest.” Mr. Grayson leaned back in his chair, but he used the fingers of one hand to spread apart the two sheets on the surface of his desk. “Knowing that, I suggest you choose your words carefully.” His electric blue eyes pierced her with all the delicacy of a honed kitchen knife, and Jia found herself quickly reconsidering the response she had been about to give. “The benefits,” she said, and she suppressed a wince at how blunt she sounded even to herself. “Full time employment with Pandora Lights promises medical and dental coverage for the employee and immediate family.” He must have known somehow, she thought. The sharp, knowing look he was still giving her told her enough. But that was all she was going to say: even if he wanted specifics, that was all he was getting from her. Of course, unless he blackmailed her for that information. But surely he couldn’t possibly care enough to go to such lengths. He was wasting his time here, and so was she. Unless he really intended to offer her a job, that is. “A custodial position,” he said. “Why were you interested in that?” Jia paused at the question for a moment before answering. “All legitimate employment is respectable,” she said carefully. “I don’t mean it in a demeaning way, Ms. Moon.” Atlas tapped the copy of her resume on his desk with two fingers. “You have several years experience in management. The custodial positions here are considered entry level, and the pay reflects that. I find that your experience over-qualifies you.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, and Jia felt a chill run down her spine as if he had just caught her doing something she shouldn’t have been. Why was that? She had done nothing wrong. As a matter of fact, he was the villain here - if he were a good, decent man, he wouldn’t have coerced her into coming here in the first place. “I’ve never actually been in management,” she said softly, daring to contradict him despite her misgivings about doing so. Judging by the way his eyebrow slid up at her objection, he didn’t quite like that. “But I find that assisting those in management comes easily, because I enjoy making things easier for those around me.” Mr. Grayson’s chin tilted up slightly, and Jia found herself blinking in surprise. That couldn’t have been an expression of approval, could it? It had disappeared in a flash, vaporizing instantly like a wisp of smoke in a hurricane, but she thought… No. She had just imagined it, Jia decided, because the way he was looking at her was most definitely not approving. Cold, more like. Very cold. She shivered. “If that’s the case, then you’ll fit well in a position that’s just opened.” Mr. Grayson leaned forward to press a round, black button near a corner of his desk. “Lydia.”“Yes, sir, Mr. Grayson, sir?” A woman’s voice, light and bubbly, spoke out of the flat speaker situated next to the button. “You have an assistant. I’m sending her out to you. Get her trained.”“I...An assistant, sir? Mine?” Suddenly, Mr. Grayson’s mouth set in a hard line, and Jia realized he did not like repeating himself. Not one bit. He hadn’t looked happy a minute ago, either, when he had had to repeat his question to her. “Yes,” he said, and the single word made Jia’s toes curl in her shoes with its sheer frigidity. “Is your speaker malfunctioning?”“N - no, sir!” the woman nearly cried in her haste to rectify the crisis. “I understand, sir. I apologize - yes, sir.” Mr. Grayson didn’t even wait for the woman to stop stammering her last words, and he lifted his finger from the intercom switch to return his attention to Jia. “Out,” he snapped. “Today’s your first day on the job. You wanted a custodial position, but since there’s none open, you’ll have to make do with cleaning up after one person instead of the entire building.” He pointed at the double doors leading out of the office when Jia failed to move immediately. “Do I need to repeat myself?” he asked, his voice growing more arctic with each syllable until Jia thought her ears were contracting a viral strain of frostbite. “No, sir,” she answered, and she was proud that somehow, she didn’t stammer as ‘Lydia’ had. God knew she wanted to. He had nothing else to say, evidently, and moved her resume and application away to the side of his expansive desk. By the time he drew a stack of papers and folders from one of his drawers, Jia was already halfway out the door. He watched with a discreet eye as she held the handle and controlled the door’s swing; it closed quietly behind her with a near-imperceptible click as the latch slid gently into place. He continued to stare for a moment in silence, considering what he had just seen. It wasn’t until an entire minute had passed when he realized that he had been idling. “Fuck,” Atlas muttered. With an irritated sigh, he snatched the papers up and began rifling through them without really reading them. He continued for another few minutes before giving up entirely and setting the stack back down on his desk. “Fuck.” ----------- “The first rule you need to know is that you never ask him any questions. None.” Jia blinked. “Excuse me?” She looked the other woman up and down, trying to riddle out exactly how serious she was. “Can you repeat that?”“First rule, section two - don’t ask him to repeat himself. Mr. Grayson hates that.” Okay, that much Jia had deduced already just moments ago when she had been in his office. His assistant - my name is Lydia Worthington, a pleasure to meet you - was standing in front of her with an open binder stocked full with sheets, and she was tracing each line with her index finger as she read aloud the ‘rules’ of Pandora Lights Agency. “Rule two, appearances are everything.” Jia drew back in alarm when the other woman gave her a thorough ironing with her eyes. “For example, this won’t do.” Lydia waggled her finger rapidly as she pointed it up and down Jia’s figure. “Not at all. We have several clothing departments in the building, so we’ll stop by for an emergency pick-me-up in a few minutes -”“Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?” interrupted Jia. She looked down at the sensible black slacks she wore and pulled at the hem of her white blouse. Sure, maybe a heavily worn pair of women’s loafers didn’t look so glamorous, but surely the rest of her attire made the cut. “Where do I start?” Lydia huffed, and she pointed at Jia’s hair. “First of all, is that a straight cut? Unacceptable. And that top looks like three different people fought over it in a bargain bin, besides the fact that ruffle collars went out of season, oh, four years ago. And don’t get me started on the false buttons, either.” Jia glanced down at the little plastic pieces sewn down the sides of her blouse. “And slacks? What were you thinking? What, are you going to be working in construction all day?” Jia frowned, thoroughly confused. Construction? In slacks? And still Lydia continued: “Heels normally put it all together, but at the same time, your flats are so...rustic, charming. I can see the appeal - like a farmer’s daughter. I’d give you points for that.” Lydia tapped her chin with her finger as she carefully observed the loafers with a curious but admiring eye. “And the weathered look is so realistic. Well-done, you’ll have to tell me where you bought them later. They almost look like they’re years old. Very authentic-looking.” Jia’s eyes darted shiftily from side to side. Her parents had bought her these from a supermarket when they were still alive eight years ago. She was fairly certain these didn’t even have a brand. “But other than that, atrocious. We can’t have you looking this way. You’re representing someone who’s representing our CEO, Mr. Grayson, and that means you need to look immaculate at all times.” Lydia turned around to drop the binder on her desk before whipping back around with a determined grimace. For all her insults, Jia couldn’t help the feeling that the woman truly meant well. There was a clear openness in the woman’s emerald-green eyes untainted by malice or pettiness. Her voice had been stern rather than jeering, scolding rather than arrogant. Yes, her vanity shined through every word she uttered like a lighthouse beacon, but perhaps that was simply the result of a particular kind of upbringing. Jia had no idea what brands or materials the other woman was wearing, but every piece of fabric on her looked far more expensive than anything she had ever bought for herself. Maybe Ms. Worthington wasn’t as wealthy as someone like Atlas Grayson, but it was obvious that she wasn’t of little means, either. She seemed...innocent, if a little materialistic. Well, fine, very materialistic. “One moment, almost done.” Lydia was preening, using the reversible mirror on her desk to make sure that not a single strand of her blonde perm was out of place. “Once we get you some acceptable clothes, we’ll come right back - I need to walk you through Mr. Grayson’s meal plan.” Jia swallowed hard. This wasn’t what she had been expecting when she had walked into the building today. Maybe she should have just taken her chances on the streets and looked for a new job on her own. Besides, she thought with a sinking heart, was it even a guarantee that she was getting paid for all of this in the first place? Maybe Atlas Grayson was going the whole nine yards and blackmailing her for free labor. She cringed at the thought and immediately began formulating a plan to escape - “Okay, let’s go.” Lydia turned around and, with a quick adjustment of her precariously steep high heels, she began click-clacking out of the room. “For future reference, we always carry an earpiece in case Mr. Grayson needs us when we are not at our desks. I’ll pick one up for you from the tech department on our way back up.” The blonde woman tapped the small, black, plastic piece in her ear for Jia’s benefit as she opened the door leading out to the hallway. Looked like a bluetooth, Jia noted. Too bad she had no idea how to use one. “Rule number three. Never, ever, be unavailable for Mr. Grayson. Well? Come on, chop-chop.” Jia hesitantly followed her out, and Lydia allowed the door to slowly close shut behind them. “Um, Ms. Worthington, I was wondering…?” she began, but a flap of the hand from the other woman made Jia stop mid-sentence. “Call me Lydia,” she said with a shake of the head and a radiant smile. “And - before I forget...I know I can rub people the wrong way, but I love working here, and I want you to love working here too. So, I guess what I’m saying is, just stick it out. Don’t let me be the reason you change your mind, okay?” Jia stared at the pretty blonde with wide eyes for a moment. “Oh, I...Sure,” she said weakly, but even before she had finished agreeing, Lydia was already sweeping off, her stilettos clattering officiously against the tiles. “Hurry up! No time to waste!” called the woman over her shoulder, and Jia quickly chased after her with a bemused smile.

Chapter 5 5 - Silk

“Do I have to pay for all of this?” Lydia gave Jia a scolding look with a furrow of her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Don’t be silly,” she chided before dropping the pile of clothes into the other woman’s arms. “Who would make you pay to take old discards? Imagine. We have to pay to get our trash taken out, you know.” Jia’s eyes dropped down to inspect the expensive fabrics with an apprehensive grimace. True, she had never had an eye for fashion. But these looked just as stylish and modern as any ensemble fitted onto mannequins in department stores, all far beyond her budget. Trash, Lydia had said, but if this was trash, what did that make her wardrobe? “Are you sure these are discards?”she repeated skeptically, and squinted at the topmost article on the stack. Was that a Gucci logo? Discard, really? “Well, all right, not all of them are,” admitted Lydia. “But the damage you would do to our image if you were ever photographed in that...atrocious getup exceeds the cost of any of these by miles, so it’s more than worth whatever tiny loss we incur. Remember, Mr. Grayson is practically public domain, and so am I since I'm always in the camera shots with him. And now, so will you. So hop to it.” The blonde clapped her hands before grabbing Jia’s shoulders and spinning her around, clothes and all. Jia was sent stumbling into the dressing stall curtain with one firm push, and she disappeared with a yelp inside. A loud cascade of rustling noises made half a dozen other women nearby look up, but Lydia waved away their disgruntled expressions. "Official business for Mr. Grayson,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I’m his new assistant. And she’s my assistant. It's all a marvelous system that Mr. Grayson has arranged, I can't believe how much more streamline everything feels already.” Instantly, the demeanor of the other women changed - their eyes widened, their stances straightened, and the semi-scowls of annoyance on their faces vaporized like so much steam. “New assistant?” one of them demanded. “What’s your name?” another one asked. They rushed over to crowd around her, half-dressed and one who had only one of her stilettos on her feet and the other clutched in her hand like a pocketbook. They chattered like a mad flock of birds, all simultaneously talking over each other and yet somehow successfully registering and processing the information flying wildly between them. Behind the curtain, Jia was having a hard enough time figuring out how to put on some of these complicated clothes with all their straps and decoy buttons. She couldn't even begin to try to discern the specifics of their gossiping. “Well? Are you done?” Jia whipped around just in time to see Lydia yank back the curtains. “Excuse me!” she exclaimed as she hastily scrambled to do up the rest of her top (wait, this was a false zipper? Things like this existed?). But the other woman didn’t quite seem to understand what the problem was: “No problem,” replied Lydia, leaving Jia reeling in compounded confusion at the incorrect response. “Now turn around and give me a slow spin - oh, oh. God, no. I don’t think so. Wear the next one.” And then with a decisive jerk, she closed the curtains again with a metallic clatter. “Chop, chop, remember we have other places to be. Anyway, ladies -” Jia looked at the pile of untried clothes hanging over from the wall, utterly miserable. With a quick rifle of her fingers, she counted how many articles of clothing remained - fourteen? And half of these looked exactly the same! Utterly defeated and overwhelmed, she hung her head, and then reluctantly got to work. ------ “Oh, hmmm…Not bad,” commented Lydia. Jia looked in the mirror, thoroughly horrified by her reflection despite the begrudgingly admiring sounds her senior colleague was making behind her. She promptly turned around and checked her rear, suspicious about the strange tightness around her hips - “Not bad!” she exclaimed incredulously. “Don’t you think it’s a bit tight!” Lydia scoffed. Loudly. The outrageousness of what Jia had just said was apparently enough to wipe away the approving expression that had been on the blonde’s face just a second ago. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is what it’s supposed to look like. If anything, it’s a little loose, but there was only this size left on the rack.” “You can see everything through this -” “First of all,” admonished Lydia. “Even if that were true, that’s why you should wear a thong to work. Secondly - oh, come on, we’re both women, don’t look at me like that - secondly, as I was saying, that’s what it’s supposed to do. Like I said before.” Jia turned her head back around to check the mirror again in disbelief. Holy God, she thought. Every step she took, she might as well be flashing her bum at everyone walking behind her. It would be a full moon every night as far as this skirt was concerned, even in broad daylight. Its black color failed to mask anything at all, with the pencil skirt hugging every embarrassing curve of her rear and thighs as it was. “Good, keep that on. I already have a pair of heels here, slip these on.” Jia reluctantly turned around to find the woman already dangling a pair of black stilettos in front of her. “Wait,” she said, though she took the shoes anyway. “This shirt’s a defect, I think. I’ll have to change.” Lydia bent over slightly to peer closely at the blouse, inspecting it from the top down. “What do you mean?” she asked curiously, still searching for whatever flaw Jia was referring to. “It looks fine to me.” Jia pointed at the collar of the blouse. “It’s missing a button,” she explained. She took one edge of the deep, open collar and turned it in her fingers slightly to emphasize her plight. “I think it’s missing two of three, actually.” The blonde gave her another strange look. “Enough jokes,” she said dismissively. “It looks like everything is fine, so let’s slip these shoes on and get going. We still need to stop by the IT floor before going back to the office.” Lydia turned around to shoo the gawking, whispering women who had begun to crowd in semi-circle around them. "Good lord, I forgot it was almost nine. All the talents will be pouring in soon. Hurry up, Jia, Mr. Grayson is waiting. I need to make a call, so come find me by the elevator after you put those shoes on.” Jia was left to stare in stunned disbelief at her retreating back. Her eyes flitted back to her reflection, and she blushed bright red at the amount of bare skin she saw winking back at her. The skirt barely came past her knees, and the blouse’s deep-cut neck was so plunging that it threatened to reveal a hint of her bra. On unsteady feet, she slid her bare feet into the black, strapped heels. How was it, she wondered when she peeked at her reflection for the last time, that she looked even less clothed with shoes on than when she was barefoot? They looked so provocative, she thought, if shoes could be such a thing. She sighed, rubbed her eyes, and tried futilely to cinch the edges of her blouse collar closer together before wobbling away. --------- “Lydia, where are you.”“On my way, sir, I apologize, Mr. Grayson, sir -” Atlas cut the intercom before she had the chance to finish groveling. He had long since stopped hoping that each new assistant would be better than the last, but this one had seemed a little more promising than her immediate predecessor. Amber-something-or-other. That one had lasted only a week before she resigned via a panicked phone call. She had been the most disappointing of them all by far. “Yes, sir!” Lydia all but charged down his door three minutes later, clearly out of breath but attempting to conceal it anyway. Atlas didn’t even look up from his laptop to greet her. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he constructed a particularly aggressive email to a correspondent who had not answered his last message quickly enough. “Pencil in a video conference with the president of Burma Ideal at one tomorrow. Move everything that conflicts one hour earlier.” Lydia was already madly tapping away at the screen of her smartphone. “Yes, sir. Done, sir. I’ll contact your other appointments and let them know immediately.”“I’m expecting a quarterly profits projection report from Daniel, but it can’t wait until the end of the day. Let him know I need it within the hour.”“Yes, sir.” Atlas finally closed his laptop and looked up. “The printer is running low on toner -” He froze. “Yes, sir,” his assistant was saying, still furiously tapping away. “I’ll take care of that as well.” Atlas said nothing after she responded, however, and Lydia glanced up from the device with a questioning look. “Sir?” But Atlas only continued to stare past her instead of continuing his rapid-fire instructions. “What is that?” he demanded sharply, eyes boring into Jia as she shifted uncomfortably behind the other woman’s back. His icy gaze raked her from head to toe, taking in her dramatic change of appearance. Lydia turned around only long enough to realize what he was referring to, and then promptly spun back around. “A Mencia skirt, A-13 midnight black, thirty percent embellished black wool and sixty percent silk-blend crepe,” she rattled off immediately. “The top is a limited edition Llorona charmeuse silk, 304-C pale blue, with mother of pearl buttons and a Magnolia buckled belt to cinch at the waist. The shoes - well, they were part of the Sinful line of the Rutgers brand we were promoting last season, but I chose the best of what we had available.” Atlas remained motionless, but his gaze continued to drag up and down Jia’s body with an intensity that she clearly noticed but seemed to misunderstand. He saw her try to discreetly drag her skirt down with an uncomfortable grimace, and the muscles in his thighs tightened with an involuntary spasm at the motion. He was suddenly glad he was sitting behind his very large desk, as he did his best to keep his attention on the clothes instead of the milky-white skin of her collarbones boldly peering out at him. “Did you pick that out?” he asked carefully, and somehow, despite his eyes remaining glued to Jia, Lydia seemed to understand that he was directing the question at her. “Yes, sir. Fortunately, there were some spares in the dressing rooms…” Atlas clenched one fist over his thigh, gathering the material of his expensive suit pants and twisting it in his grasp. “You did well,” he said, his voice a little rougher than before. “Before you leave for the day, find several more to send Ms. Moon home with.”“Of course, sir -”“I do have clothes at home I can wear.” Jia’s voice, although of average volume, cut through the room and the conversation like a butcher knife. “I’d hate to impose,” she added lamely when the silence persisted. "I...know I’m wearing company property.” Atlas’s eyes flickered to Lydia, who had slowly turned around to pin her colleague with a desperate, warning glower. “That won’t be necessary,” he said coolly. “You’ll do as I instruct. I won’t risk you compromising the agency’s value because you don’t know which brands we do and do not represent.”“Brands you represent?” Jia repeated, and this time, Lydia flailed her hands slightly to dissuade the other woman from speaking any further. Little did she know that Atlas was procuring far too much enjoyment watching Jia’s collar flutter open a little wider every time she glanced between him and Lydia in growing confusion. He even found himself answering her question, eager to keep the conversation going no matter what that entailed. “Pandora Lights Agency’s marketing power is one of the strongest in the nation, simply by virtue of what we choose to dress our talents in,” said Atlas, and he saw his assistant whip back around with an expression of utter shock. No doubt she had expected him to guillotine Jia’s head from her shoulders for her daring to question him. “And conversely, there are companies and brands we choose to not promote this way, deliberately. I require my employees to keep up-to-date with our stances on several dozen of these brands at all times and to act accordingly.” Jia was staring at him with an almost comical, fish eyed astonishment. “I...yes, sir,” she said reluctantly. Her eyes darted anxiously around the office as if she were looking for something that could explain those very stances, but when she found nothing of the sort, her dark eyes nervously inched back to Atlas’s face. He saw it all. His hand twisted the fabric of his suit pants again and threatened to cut off his circulation. “If that’s settled, then handle everything I’ve mentioned and return here once you’ve done so.” Atlas nodded in the direction of his double doors, still as unsmiling and cold as ever. “Now.” Lydia grabbed Jia’s wrist and proceeded to scurry out, leaving Atlas to stew alone in swiftly growing frustration. He pushed his rolling office chair back so that he could look down at his lap, and he forced his fist to slowly unclench around the bunched up fabric of his pant leg. He scowled at the wrinkles that his hand left behind, but it was the memory of Jia Moon’s bare, slender calves that made him slam his fist down on the desk in half-stifled anger. Fuck, this was annoying.

Chapter 6 6 - Weakness

Jia breathed a sigh of relief when Lydia finally put away the binder full of the Dos and Don'ts of dealing with Atlas Grayson. The other woman was still barreling through a heated scolding session on how inappropriate Jia's conduct had been back in the CEO's office, but after twenty minutes of haranguing her for it, she finally seemed as though she were beginning to tire out. “I understand," said Jia, keeping her voice patient and calm as if soothing a spooked horse. “It won't happen again.”“I told you to never question him! Even things like how he would like his coffee or how the day is are off-limits, and then you go and directly contradict him - !” Jia resisted the urge to jump up and flee the room. Of all the ridiculous insanities of her circumstances, the reverential fear the assistant had for her boss had to take the cake. What was this, a cathedral? Was Atlas Grayson the pope? She swallowed the resigned sigh building in her chest, knowing that releasing it would only rile up her colleague even more. “Lydia," she said quickly when the woman paused to draw breath. Here was her chance to both stem the flood and also to find out exactly why Atlas Grayson wanted her here, since it seemed like she wasn’t going to be allowed to ask him directly. "I was wondering, am I your substitute? Am I only expected to come in on days that you can’t make it?” The blonde hesitated just before letting loose with another barrage of rebukes, and her cheeks slowly ballooned with air as she mulled over Jia's question. A long moment passed as she visibly struggled to come up with an answer. Finally, her eyes widened with impatient exasperation, and she tossed her hands up in a gesture of helplessness. "Well, I don't know anything!" she told Jia with a burning confidence that the latter could only dream of matching one day. "I only just started two weeks ago. I didn't even know you would be coming in!” Jia blinked. “You what? You started two weeks ago, you said?" Strange. Incredibly strange. Sure, Lydia seemed to be a little flustered (and had also made the mistake of asking Mr. Grayson a question at least once, if memory served), but her primped and polished, loud self-assurance had given Jia the impression that the other woman was a seasoned employee. Atlas certainly hadn't hesitated to burden her with all his demands as if she were so experienced. “Yes. And let me tell you, the one they tried to train before I came in to replace her lasted just a week. And the one that trained us - well, trained her first, then me - was only here for three months. You can't imagine how complex and demanding this position is." “I'm...sorry to hear that," Jia said carefully, slowly becoming more confused by the second but unwilling to delve into matters that would only amount to more headaches. She certainly didn't intend to stay here long anyway, so if Atlas Grayson decided to fire her and send her home, then at least she could start looking for a real job to replace her now-failed restaurant gig. Unfortunately, Lydia was all too eager to share her burdens anyway. “And can you believe it, she only stayed to train me for four days, and then she just up and ran away. Just left! I’m lucky I’m incredibly adaptable and brilliant. I managed to figure the rest of it out myself a few days ago - you’ll be just fine as long as you pay attention to what I say. Like when I tell you not to question Mr. Grayson -” Jia pressed her lips together into a thin line as Lydia launched herself wholeheartedly into the second act of her Broadway tirade. The blonde even reached behind her desk to retrieve a tie and pull her hair back as if she were preparing for a battle, or at the very least a sound thrashing. At the sight, Jia let a small, inaudible sigh escape and hung her head. Today was definitely going to be a long day. ------ “Don’t make eye contact with the models,” Lydia advised as she barged through the glass doors from the street and led the way back into the headquarters’ lobby with long, fast strides. She clutched a drink carrier with three custom coffees nestled into it to her chest as if carrying a precious treasure. “They’re safe as long as you don’t provoke them. They’re a little more in tune with their animal nature than the other talents are, so they can get a little feisty.” Jia started. “I’m sorry, what?” What was this, a zoo? Did the talents she saw milling around all get placards for their enclosures and keepers to tend to them? Animal natures...what on earth? “You know how it is. The whole sensual thing they have to do day in, day out. It makes them a little wild sometimes, gets into their heads. Also, do you remember where we’re going?” Lydia snapped her fingers with a decisive flick of her wrist before pointing backward over her shoulder at Jia. “The express elevator,” she replied automatically, and she sneaked once more glance at another passing fair-haired model sweeping past her, all mile long legs and fierce, kohl lined eyes. Wow. “And how do we use it?” Jia whipped her head back around just in time.“We scan our ID badge.”“Right. We’re picking yours up after we give Mr. Grayson his coffee.” Lydia quickly served into the small corridor and came to a stop in front of the express elevator doors, temporarily silencing the clatter of her heels on the floor. She flicked her badge in front of the scanner before letting it snap back on its retractable string, and then she glanced back at Jia - who was now gaping not at the models, but at the marble and chrome texture lining the elevator threshold instead. "And stop doing that,” she snapped. “Never ever stare.” Jia flinched in surprise at the sudden hardness in Lydia’s tone. That was a voice she hadn’t heard before from the woman- sure, she spoke with all the brisk crispness of a stiff autumn wind, but she had never sounded so harsh. She blinked and drew back, firmly subdued. Lydia sighed and looked forward again. “Trust me,” she said, softly this time. “You can’t ever show weakness here. Staring at things like that around here is a dead giveaway that you’re new and fresh, and that means you’re weak. Never show anyone what you’re really thinking, or what you’re feeling. Swallow everything down and stick it out, no matter what.” Jia stared in silence, deeply perturbed by the woman’s abrupt seriousness. What had brought all this about? And why did the dynamic Lydia seem so - drained now, with no warning at all? “It’s related to another sort-of-rule, one that’s not in the binder.” The blonde rolled her head back, carefully stretching her neck and shoulders with the drink carrier still in her arms. “It’s just a personal one, I guess. But one that everyone knows and follows.” Jia felt her lips moving to ask before she could stop herself: “What is it?” Lydia forced a grim smile at the elevator doors. “Don’t ever let anyone see you cry.”

Chapter 7 7 - Unforgettable

“Mr. Grayson is unavailable to take your call, but I can pass on a message for you.” Lydia was somehow juggling three binders, her smartphone, a stack of unstapled sheets, and a large coffee while handling the phone call with the utmost professional demeanor. She sounded downright automated. “I will make sure your message reaches him. Thank you, Mr. Li. We look forward to the conference tomorrow.” The phone dropped back into the pocket of her slim suit jacket, and Jia was left mystified by how exactly the woman had achieved such a feat when both of her hands were still full. Lydia seemed to think nothing of it as she proceeded to speed down the corridor with all the urgency of a Formula 1 car on a straightaway. Somehow, despite being taller than the blonde and most definitely possessing a longer stride, Jia found herself panting slightly to keep up. “Daniel is our Chief Operating Officer,” said Lydia as they rounded a corner at breakneck speed. “But forget titles, and forget the hierarchy - after Mr. Grayson, Daniel is the second in command. Everything that costs even a single penny in this place, it all goes through him in the end, understand? That means nothing happens without his eyes on it. If you're used to annual budgets, get un-used to it real quick. He adjusts every department every quarter, and no exceptions.” Jia had never had to deal with budgetary concerns in the first place, so she rather thought she wouldn't be bothered at all. Lydia clearly had no idea that she had little experience in anything beyond the almost the lowest rung of retail employment. But she wouldn't share that. She had the distinct impression that revealing it would only catapult Lydia into record-intensity convulsions. “Daniel,” Jia repeated instad, the downward tilt of her inflection revealing her uncertainty. “Do you all normally address him by his first name like that?” Click - clack - click - clack. Lydia’s stilettos ate up the tiles even more rapidly as she accelerated without warning. “Yes, that’s what he prefers. But since you’ll need it for sending faxes and other official paperwork, his last name is Durham. Got that?” Jia nodded, and then remembered Lydia didn’t have eyes on the back of her head with which to see her. “Yes,” she said. “Daniel Durham, understood.” She felt a rare pang of regret over not possessing a device on which she could store a reminder. Maybe she should invest in a smartphone after all, at least the cheapest one she could get. Struggling with a ten year old flip phone was getting harder and harder to justify with each passing year, but what could she do? These devices were becoming so expensive, and the phone plan by itself was already pricey - “But he does have one rule. Don’t ever contact him outside of working hours, which for him is nine in the morning to five in the evening. Absolutely no exceptions, except in the case of death or dismemberment.” Jia winced. “I understand.”"I'm serious, Jia. No exceptions." What, did she think that Jia had nothing else to do after work hours? What reason would she have to harass a man after he had gone home? A simple email would sort out such things nicely, and besides, that wasn't the man she would be working under anyway. If anything, the only person who she would need to contact after hours was probably going to be Mr. Grayson. She hoped not, but... "Yes, no exceptions. I understand."“Good. Here we are.” Lydia came to a halt so suddenly that Jia almost collided with her, but quite luckily, she got away with just a minor sensation of whiplash in her neck. She quickly steadied herself and paused as her senior then turned and all but charged through a set of double glass doors. Jia scurried in after her, still wondering how Lydia could possibly be doing anything that required the functionality of opposable thumbs when her arms were clearly full. “Meghan, I’m going in to see Daniel. And yes, I have an appointment. Just sent him a message, so hush.” Lydia breezed past the desk with an outraged-looking brunette woman sitting behind it. “You can’t just - Lydia, get back here!”“Goodbye, Meghan.” The blonde didn’t even miss a beat. She booked it with a fierce, determined clatter of her stilettos to the back of the receiving room and toward another set of double doors leading to an inner office. “God, I hate you!” Jia heard ‘Meghan’ exclaim, but she noticed the woman did nothing but grumpily return to her paperwork. Pretty, Jia thought. Why were all the women in this place so beautiful? She felt out of place, clumsy, and so dull compared to them. She raked a self conscious hand through her hair, wondering how Meghan could have styled her hair with such a sweeping look like that. She quickly averted her eyes when she realized she had been staring over her shoulder, unsure if she had even been noticed. Unlikely, probably. To be fair, with a gale-force storm like Lydia whirling into the vicinity, she supposed her chances of sticking out was about the same as a single leaf in a hurricane. Indeed, the brunette was still throwing glare after glare at Lydia and Lydia only. What a relief. Jia let out a slow, quiet breath. It was good to know that she could still fly under the radar, at least. She didn’t plan on staying here long anyway, but with the way things were going in her life, people seemed uncommonly interested in making her life harder than it had to be. No sense in risking it by letting anyone make eye contact with her, much less acquaint themselves with her. Lydia’s knuckles rapped twice on the white door with two sharp knocks, and this time, she waited for an invitation. “Daniel,” she said through the door, her voice crisp and loud. “I’m here with my assistant, Jia Moon. Mr. Grayson would like me to leave something with you, and also to collect the report he was waiting for.”“Come in.” The smooth tenor that came from within the room surprised Jia. A young man? She had thought it would be a gruff, old, possibly lecherous old man who would have such a prestigious title like Chief Operating Officer, but then again, the CEO of Pandora Lights was none other than the youthful Atlas Grayson. Maybe it was one of his school chums, Jia thought dubiously. Rich people did things like that, didn't they? Slide in a few favors and cushy jobs for each other? The door opened, and Lydia stepped through. Jia followed in quickly afterward, chasing her heels - and gaped at the sight that met her. She knew that man, she thought. She couldn’t possibly forget a face like that - “Hello, Ms. Moon. It’s good to see you again.”