Boardroom and Heartbeats

Behind Closed Doors

Lena’s second day at Steele Innovations began with the cold bite of tension in the air. She arrived early, hoping to make a good impression—or at the very least avoid Donovan’s wrath for being late. The lobby was already bustling with employees, each one moving with purpose as if the entire company’s success depended on their next step.

The sleek elevator ride to the top floor gave Lena a brief moment to gather her thoughts. Yesterday had been a whirlwind, but one moment lingered in her mind more than any other: Donovan at the piano. The rawness of it, the vulnerability he’d shown in that fleeting moment, had caught her off guard. It was a crack in his otherwise impenetrable armor, and it left her wondering just how much of his aloofness was a façade.

As the elevator doors slid open, Lena stepped onto the executive floor and was immediately greeted by the sharp click of high heels. Amelia Grant, Donovan’s previous assistant and the woman training her for the week, appeared around the corner with a clipboard in hand. Amelia was tall, elegant, and intimidatingly efficient—like the embodiment of a perfectly brewed espresso.

“You’re two minutes early,” Amelia noted, her eyes flicking to the clock. “Good. Donovan likes punctuality.”

“I aim to please,” Lena said, offering a polite smile.

Amelia didn’t return it. “Your aim will need to be impeccable if you want to last here. Come with me.”

The Training Gauntlet

Amelia led Lena through a crash course in managing Donovan Steele’s chaotic world. His schedule was a labyrinth of back-to-back meetings, phone calls, and deadlines, all of which Lena was expected to juggle with military precision.

“This is his calendar,” Amelia said, tapping a sleek tablet. “You’ll notice he has no personal time blocked off. That’s not a mistake. Mr. Steele doesn’t believe in downtime.”

Lena frowned. “So... what happens if he gets tired?”

Amelia shot her a look. “He doesn’t.”

As they moved through the tasks, Lena’s respect for Donovan’s work ethic grew, even if his methods were borderline inhuman. The man was a machine, running a billion-dollar empire with relentless efficiency.

But it wasn’t just the work that stood out—it was the way people talked about him. There was a certain reverence in their voices, but also fear. Employees whispered about his temper, his perfectionism, and his complete intolerance for mistakes.

By lunchtime, Lena’s head was spinning. She sat at her desk, scrolling through emails and trying to make sense of the organized chaos she’d been thrust into.

“Overwhelmed yet?”

The familiar voice startled her, and she looked up to see Elliot Grayson leaning against the edge of her desk.

“Not at all,” Lena said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “This is exactly what I dreamed of as a kid—juggling impossible schedules for a man who doesn’t believe in sleep.”

Elliot laughed, his easygoing demeanor a welcome contrast to the intensity surrounding Donovan. “Don’t worry. Everyone feels that way their first week. Well, everyone who sticks around long enough to have a first week.”

“That’s comforting,” Lena muttered, but she couldn’t help smiling.

Elliot slid a coffee cup onto her desk. “Here. You’re going to need this.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking a grateful sip. The coffee was strong and just what she needed to keep going. “So, is this how you keep him happy? Caffeine and fear?”

Elliot smirked. “Pretty much. Donovan’s... an acquired taste. But once you get past the rough edges, he’s not so bad. He’s just a guy who’s laser-focused on his goals. Nothing matters to him more than Steele Innovations.”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Not even people?”

Elliot hesitated, his smile faltering slightly. “Donovan doesn’t let people in easily. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

Before Lena could press further, the door to Donovan’s office opened, and he stepped out, his gaze immediately landing on them.

“Grayson,” he said, his tone curt. “Do you ever actually work, or do you just loiter in my hallway?”

Elliot straightened, his smirk returning. “Just making sure your new assistant doesn’t run for the hills.”

Donovan’s gaze shifted to Lena, sharp and assessing. “She won’t. Will you, Ms. Moreau?”

Lena met his eyes, refusing to back down. “Not a chance.”

Something flickered in his expression—approval, maybe?—before he turned and strode down the hall without another word.

Elliot gave Lena a wink. “See? You’re already winning him over.”

The First Crisis

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of emails, phone calls, and meetings. By 3 PM, Lena was beginning to find her rhythm—until an email landed in her inbox with a red URGENT tag.

She opened it to find a last-minute change to one of Donovan’s meetings, something about a contract renegotiation with a major client. The details were vague, but the email made it clear that the new terms had to be reviewed before the meeting in twenty minutes.

Panic bubbled in her chest as she realized she had no idea what she was looking at. The document was dense with legal jargon, and Amelia had mentioned nothing about contracts during her training.

Taking a deep breath, Lena grabbed the tablet and knocked on Donovan’s door.

“Come in.”

She stepped inside, feeling small under his piercing gaze. He was seated at his desk, reviewing a report with the same intensity he gave to everything.

“I just got this email about the contract renegotiation,” Lena began, holding out the tablet. “I thought you might want to take a look before the meeting.”

Donovan didn’t take the tablet. Instead, his eyes narrowed slightly. “And why would I need to do that?”

Lena hesitated, unsure how to respond. “I... I thought it might save time during the meeting if you had a chance to review the changes beforehand.”

For a long moment, Donovan said nothing. Then, to her surprise, he stood and walked over to her, taking the tablet from her hands.

“You’re right,” he said simply, his tone neutral.

Lena blinked, caught off guard by his agreement.

Donovan glanced at her, one brow raised. “Don’t look so surprised, Ms. Moreau. I can admit when someone has a good idea.”

The corner of Lena’s mouth twitched, but she quickly smothered the smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He handed the tablet back to her. “Have the legal team draft a summary of the changes. I want it on my desk in ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir,” Lena said, already turning to leave.

“Oh, and Ms. Moreau?”

She paused in the doorway, looking back at him.

“You’re doing better than I expected,” he said, his tone almost... kind.

Lena left the office with a strange mix of pride and confusion swirling in her chest. She hadn’t expected a compliment from Donovan Steele, but she wasn’t about to let it go to her head.

Not yet, anyway.