Boardroom and Heartbeats

The Assignment

The newsroom was a chaotic orchestra of sound and motion. Phones rang, reporters argued over leads, and somewhere in the corner, someone was yelling about an overdue coffee run. The smell of burnt coffee mixed with old paper as the hum of urgency buzzed in the background. To most people, it would feel overwhelming—maybe even unbearable. But to Lena Moreau, it felt like home.

She sat at her desk, the chaos around her fading into white noise as her eyes skimmed the dossier that had just landed in her lap. A single name stared back at her from the top of the file, printed in bold black letters: DONOVAN STEELE.

Lena leaned back in her chair, her lips pressing into a thin line. She flipped the folder open, revealing a glossy headshot. Sharp jawline. Piercing steel-blue eyes. A well-fitted suit that screamed custom tailoring. His expression was cool and unreadable, the kind of face that didn’t betray even a flicker of emotion. He looked like someone who always got his way—and was probably insufferable about it.

“Quite the charmer, isn’t he?” came the familiar voice of her editor, Sam Kingston.

Lena didn’t bother to look up. “If you’re into smug, emotionally unavailable billionaires, sure. Personally, I prefer my charm with a little humility.”

Sam laughed, dragging a chair over and dropping into it unceremoniously. “You’re going to love this assignment, then. You’ll get to find out firsthand if he’s as insufferable as he looks.”

Lena’s eyes finally flicked up to meet Sam’s, her brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

Sam grinned, the kind that always preceded a crazy idea she’d end up regretting. “Donovan Steele is your next story.”

She blinked, momentarily stunned. “A billionaire tech CEO? That’s not exactly my beat, Sam. I expose corrupt landlords, politicians, and people who are actually ruining lives—not poster boys for Fortune 500 covers.”

“Trust me, this guy belongs on your beat,” Sam said, leaning forward. “Steele Innovations might look squeaky clean on the surface, but there’s something big brewing behind those glass walls. Rumors are swirling about a secret AI project, something so cutting-edge it could change the entire tech industry. But here’s the kicker: no one knows what it is. Investors are jittery, employees are whispering about unethical practices, and competitors are circling like vultures. The public deserves to know what he’s hiding.”

Lena frowned, flipping through the rest of the dossier. There wasn’t much to go on—just a few anonymous tips, speculation from industry insiders, and the kind of vague unease that could lead to something huge or absolutely nothing.

“And how am I supposed to get close to him?” she asked skeptically. “The man’s practically a ghost. No interviews, no public appearances, not even a juicy scandal to his name. His PR team probably buries anything remotely interesting before it sees the light of day.”

Sam’s grin widened, and Lena instantly regretted asking. He slid a sealed envelope across her desk.

“Steele Innovations is hiring a temporary assistant to cover for someone on maternity leave,” he said. “It’s a low-level position, barely a blip on their radar. But it’ll put you right inside the lion’s den.”

Lena stared at the envelope like it might explode. “You want me to go undercover? As a secretary?”

“Assistant,” Sam corrected with mock seriousness. “And yes. You’ve gone undercover before. Hell, you’re one of the best we’ve got at it. You’re smart, resourceful, and nosy as hell—everything they’re probably looking for in an assistant. Besides, this isn’t just any story. If you crack this, you’re not just a journalist—you’re a legend.”

Lena picked up the envelope, turning it over in her hands. She’d gone undercover plenty of times, but this felt different. Donovan Steele wasn’t just powerful; he was untouchable. The kind of man who could ruin her career—or her life—with a single phone call.

“Fine,” she said, stuffing the envelope into her bag. “But if this blows up in my face, I’m taking you down with me.”

Sam laughed, clapping her on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Now go get him.”

A Week Later

The lobby of Steele Innovations was the definition of modern opulence. The floors were polished marble, the walls were lined with sleek glass panels, and an enormous abstract sculpture dominated the center of the room. The air smelled faintly of cedar and money, a mix that made Lena feel both out of place and oddly invigorated.

She adjusted her blazer, clutching the portfolio in her hands like a lifeline as she approached the reception desk.

“Lena Moreau,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “I’m here for the assistant position.”

The receptionist didn’t look up, her fingers flying over a keyboard. “Mr. Steele’s office is on the top floor. Someone will be down to escort you shortly.”

Lena nodded, stepping back to wait. Her heart pounded as she took in the bustling employees, all moving with the kind of purpose that suggested they didn’t have time for mistakes. This wasn’t just a company—it was an empire. And she was about to walk right into the heart of it.

Ten minutes later, an impeccably dressed woman appeared, her sharp heels clicking against the marble. “Ms. Moreau? Follow me, please.”

The elevator ride to the top floor was quiet but tense. As the doors opened, Lena stepped out into a space that was even more intimidating than the lobby. Donovan Steele’s office was a masterpiece of minimalist design—floor-to-ceiling windows, a massive desk that looked more like a command center, and a view of the city that made her feel small in the best and worst ways.

The man himself was standing by the windows, his back to her.

“Mr. Steele, your new assistant is here,” the woman announced before leaving Lena alone.

For a moment, Donovan didn’t move. Then he turned, and Lena felt the air leave her lungs.

He was even more striking in person. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an intensity in his eyes that made her want to look away and stare at the same time. He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her with an expression that revealed nothing.

“You’re Lena Moreau,” he said finally, his voice low and commanding.

Lena forced a polite smile, every nerve in her body on high alert. “Yes, sir. I’m looking forward to assisting you.”

Donovan’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned back to the window. “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t exactly a warm welcome, but Lena hadn’t expected one. As she stood there, clutching her portfolio a little tighter, one thought echoed in her mind:

This was going to be harder than she’d ever imagined.