Love at First Thrust

Birds perch atop the swaying stalks decorating the neighbourhood gardens, fluttering their wings and puffing their tiny chests as though competing amongst themselves to prove whose song is the sweetest. Their melodic chirping blends harmoniously with the gentle breeze drifting through the street, carrying the pleasant sounds across the peaceful morning. Fresh dew still clings stubbornly to the green grass carpeting every lawn, causing it to sparkle beneath the warm golden rays of sunlight, while colourful flowers bloom proudly from carefully maintained gardens, their petals swaying lazily in the cool moist air.

The wind tousles the loose curls framing my face as I hurry down the sidewalk, my heels tapping rapidly against the pavement. Raising my wrist, I glance down at my watch for what feels like the hundredth time this morning before anxiously turning to scan the road behind me. My shoulders tense when I find absolutely nothing. “For fuck’s sake,” I curse under my breath, ripping my gaze forward again and increasing my pace.

The perks of not owning a car at twenty-four.

And if I don’t make it on time, I probably won’t own one for another decade.

The distant rumble of an approaching engine immediately catches my attention. My head snaps around so fast that several curls whip across my face and my eyes instantly light up at the sight of a familiar yellow vehicle advancing down the road. Relief crashes through me. I stop walking altogether and wave both hands in the air, bouncing excitedly on the spot like a child being offered free candy. “Taxi!”

At this rate, I’ll probably be fasting this afternoon to recover the money I’m about to spend, but who cares? I’d rather sacrifice my lunch budget than arrive late on my very first day.

The taxi slows before finally pulling up beside the curb. I barely wait for it to stop completely before yanking open the door and sliding into the backseat.

“Volgez Headquarters, hurry please!”

The driver nods without question and pulls back onto the road. The second the vehicle starts moving, I collapse against the seat and release a relieved sigh.

What a horrible start to the day.

I shouldn’t have snoozed my alarm. One extra minute somehow turned into ten, ten turned into thirty, and before I knew it I’d missed the first bus entirely. After that came thirty minutes of walking and now I have less than twenty minutes left before I make my first impression on the people responsible for determining whether my internship turns into an actual career.

Fluttering my eyes open, I reach into my handbag and pull out my compact mirror. The reflection staring back at me immediately earns a grimace. My curls are trying to escape in every direction, my lips look horrid, and the dark circles beneath my eyes practically announce to the world that I made terrible life decisions this morning.

Ugh.

I dig through my bag again and pull out a small makeup pouch. “This ride better not be bumpy,” I mutter, fishing out my eyeliner and carefully tracing a thin line over my eyelid. A few seconds later I blink at the slight tingling sensation as it dries and examine the results. Grey cat-like eyes stare back at me from the mirror looking considerably more vibrant than they did moments ago. Satisfied, I toss the eyeliner back into the pouch and move on to my lip liner.

By the time the taxi finally slows to a stop outside Volgez Headquarters, my unruly black curls are neatly pinned into a high ponytail cascading to the middle of my back, my lips are painted a soft cherry pink, and my hands are furiously rummaging through my handbag in search of my wallet.

“We’re here, miss.” He announces

“Yeah... just a minute.” I continue digging until my fingers finally close around the familiar leather. Pulling it free, I unzip it and immediately grimace when my eyes land on the fare displayed on the small screen at the front. The amount itself isn’t terrible. The problem is that my wallet is currently surviving on hopes, dreams, and loose change.

’Fuck it.’

Suppressing a groan, I pull out the exact amount and pass it forward. The notes leave my hand and take a piece of my soul with them.

“Thanks..” The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m climbing out of the taxi and staring up at the towering glass building ahead of me, my stomach immediately twisting into knots.

Twin blue-tinted skyscrapers greet me, towering over the visitor’s parking lot like two giant mirrors reflecting the morning sky. Employees and visitors weave in and out of the main entrance while several vehicles disappear down the ramp leading toward the workers’ underground parking floors.

Well...

I hurriedly smooth my black high-waisted pencil skirt over my hips before tugging at the hem of my white blouse. My gaze immediately drops to my watch.

Five minutes.

My stomach nearly drops to the ground—I’m fucking nervous.

Quickly, baby. Quickly. I mentally coach myself and set off toward the entrance. The towering glass doors slide apart before me and cool air immediately washes over my skin the moment I step inside. My eyes sweep across the expansive lobby.

It’s as busy as a beehive.

Straight ahead stand five adjacent security checkpoints, each leading to a separate bank of elevators. Employees move through them in an endless stream, flashing identification cards against scanners before disappearing beyond the glass barriers. Off to the right sits a large reception desk staffed by a woman who looks like smiling might physically pain her.

Determined to make a good first impression regardless, I plaster on one of my friendliest smiles and approach.

“Hello.”

The receptionist finally tears her attention away from her computer screen and lifts her cold, almost bored gaze toward me. Thick dark bangs partially shadow her eyes but still, the ice shards shooting through threaten to freeze me to death.

“Hi.”

Arrogant much? Then again, maybe she’s having a terrible morning too. Let’s try to stay positive.

“I’m Alexis-Dianne Smith. I was told to report to Grace Coleman.” I introduce myself in a levelled calm voice.

Without a word, she returns her attention to the monitor and begins typing. Her eyes narrow slightly as she scans whatever appears on the screen. “Can I see your ID?”

Good thing I didn’t shove my wallet back into my bag.

I quickly pull out my identification card and hand it over. She studies it, types a few more things, then returns it. As I slide it back into my wallet, she reaches for the office phone resting beside her keyboard and dials a number.

“Hey.”

A pause.

“Yeah, there’s someone here who needs to be taken to the control room.”

Another pause.

“Well, Derrick isn’t here yet and I can’t leave the desk.”

Her eyes briefly flick toward me before drifting somewhere over my shoulder.

“Hurry up. They’re expecting her up there in like...” She glances at the clock. “One minute.”

She hangs up before acknowledging me again.

“Someone will be here for you in about two minutes.”

I arch an eyebrow. “I should stand here?”

“Or you can wait there.” She gestures toward a seating area occupying part of the lobby. “But I don’t think he’ll take lo—ah. There he is.” Her attention shifts to the left.

I follow her gaze. A man emerges from a corridor tucked beside the elevators, one I’d somehow completely missed. He presses an identification card against a security panel beside one of the checkpoint doors and the glass barrier slides open, allowing him through. And he heads directly toward us.

His gaze lands on me from across the place and it remains fixed as he approaches the desk. He’s quite tall with a fit physique to boost. He has a suave air to him with the way he carries himself, his gait both fast and confident.

“Hello.” A smile spreads across his face as he stops before me. “I’m Marcus.” He extends a hand.

Well, he’s certainly not ugly, I give him that. Though I can see ’ladies’ man’ practically tattooed on his forehead.

I reach for his hand and shake it. “Alexis.”

His brown eyes slowly travel over my appearance, lingering a bit on my chest before lazily drifting down to ogle my hips. Unbeknownst to him, my opinion of him drops several points with the passing seconds, luckily for him, I have blocked the bitch within me at least for today.

“Nice to meet you,” he mutters, finally meeting my eyes again.

Not the slightest pleasure.

“Nice to meet you too.” I manage to reply, though my practised smile has long disappeared.

He gestures for me to follow him and I motion for him to lead the way instead. We pass through the security checkpoint before entering the corridor he’d emerged from. Several offices line both sides, their doors marked with department names I barely have time to read before we’re moving again.

A staircase appears and we stroll past. Then another corridor. Then another. And another.

Good Lord.

By the time we finally stop before a door labelled CONTROL ROOM, I’m fully convinced I would’ve ended up lost somewhere. I wouldn’t have made it here.

Marcus glances toward a security camera mounted above the door and gives a small wave. Seconds later the door swings open and out walks a mountain of a man, bald, with chocolate brown complexion, a stern mug and a very intimidating aura.

His eyes settle on me. “Alexis-Dianne Smith?”

Just Alexis, Bob. I bite the comment back and settle for a polite nod.

He extends a card toward me and I take it, immediately inspecting it.

Well.. they actually used one of the passport photos from my application and managed not to fuck with it. I mean, I don’t look like a wanted criminal or half asleep... which is excellent.

My name is spelled correctly. And right beneath—Junior Legal Specialist. At least for the next six months of trial period until I score that full employment contract, and then I’ll officially be a Senior Legal Specialist, the actual position I’m gunning for.

HA!

A ridiculous amount of excitement immediately bubbles inside me.

Finally.

I look up and smile. “Thanks.”

“Lose it and you won’t be able to move around, enter, or exit the buildings,” baldy warns, but no amount of grump can ruin my day, at least not today.

“Cool.” I hum, my gaze drifting back to my new ID, barely suppressing a squeal and jumping like a teenager at their idol’s meet & greet.

He turns to leave but pauses, giving me a side glance over his shoulder. “One more thing. No visitors.”

I blink.

Who exactly would I bring? A marching band?

I nod anyway.

“Welcome aboard.” He says, then disappears back inside and the door closes behind him.

I turn toward Marcus, arching my brow curiously. “Security?”

A nervous laugh escapes him as he runs a hand through his wavy brown hair. “Head of Security.”

That explains a lot.

We start heading back the way we came, weaving through the corridors that I was never meant to fully understand on my first day. I tilt my head slightly as I glance at him. “Scary chap,” I comment lightly.

He shrugs. “He makes me nervous too, but so far, you won’t notice him unless you slip into his radar.”

“Which is?” I ask, narrowing my eyes slightly.

“Breaching the security code,” he states.

I nod slowly, storing that away in the mental folder.

“Well,” he continues, hands sliding into a more relaxed posture now that the topic has shifted, “there are exceptions when it comes to visitors. Authorized personnel, work-related guests… and then there are personal visits. People sometimes bring their kids in, but only in emergencies. Like if they need to be taken to the hospital and there’s no other option.”

I blink at that, the thought landing with absolutely no relevance to my life whatsoever. I don’t have kids, and I don’t like them either, so whatever mental box he’s trying to check off about me remains stubbornly empty. I simply nod, letting him talk while I follow him through the branching corridors again, the building still feeling like an oversized puzzle designed by someone who enjoys confusing people.

Eventually, instead of taking me back the long way, he steers us toward a quieter corridor where a smaller elevator sits tucked away. It feels almost exclusive compared to the main lifts at the lobby.

“Press twenty,” he instructs. “That’s where the Legal Department is.”

“Got it.” I offer him a small smile as I step inside, tapping on the given floor number. “Thank you.”

I turn just before the doors slide shut with a soft chime, sealing me inside the moving box.

I abruptly feel my handbag vibrating against my side and my attention immediately shifts downward. Slipping a hand inside, I begin rummaging through its contents, blindly feeling my way past makeup products, receipts, and enough miscellaneous nonsense to open a small convenience store. The elevator softly dings and comes to a stop somewhere along the way, allowing several people to stroll inside, but I pay them no attention.

My mission is finding the little devil currently assaulting my bag.

Eventually, my fingers close around my phone and I pull it out. One glance at the screen is enough to make me roll my eyes.

One missed call. Two messages. Both from the same menace.

Jian.

Lexi, did you make it??

How is it going, ho? I’m dying here!! Any cute guys? Did they kick you out?

A laugh threatens to escape despite my annoyance. Don’t get me wrong. She’s highly irritating. Unfortunately, she’s also my only friend.

‘Calm your hormones. FYI, I’M FUCKING IN!!’

I press send before lifting my gaze toward the floor indicator above the elevator doors, curious to see how far I’ve made it.

And I freeze.

Striking blue eyes lock onto mine from across the elevator and every coherent thought immediately abandons ship.

Good, good Lord.

For a brief moment, I genuinely forget where I am.

The man staring back at me possesses the kind of face that should honestly require government authorization before being displayed in public. From a chiselled jaw to a strong cleft chin covered with a light stubble, to soft-looking lips touched by a tantalizing blush then back to a blue pair of orbs that shame the clearest, glittering oceans at a sunny midday—he has me completely and irrevocably under a spell.

I stare.

He stares.

I’m being pulled into bewitching waves that have my brain quietly cease to function, and there’s no way for me to resist, rather, I let myself be consumed as I fall deeper into the enchanting depths.

The elevator suddenly stops again and the opening doors finally jolt me back into reality. Thanks to that, I tear my gaze away from him and glance upward.

My eyes widen.

Fuck. This is my floor.

“Excuse me!”

I practically launch myself forward, squeezing between people before the doors can close again. My heart pounds wildly as I stumble into the corridor and turn around just in time to catch him still watching me.

Unfortunately, now I notice the rest of him.

Which... I don’t know, somehow makes things worse. The man is tall enough to stand out even among the other passengers. Although not quite as much as the seven-foot tree standing beside him.

His medium-length dirty blond hair falls into a perfectly styled hockey cut, while his dark tailored three-piece suit hugs a broad frame that should honestly be illegal. The jacket strains ever so slightly across his shoulders and chest, making me suddenly wish I possessed Wolverine claws solely so I could tear the expensive thing off and verify my suspicions.

Because there is absolutely no way a man is allowed to look that good naturally. Ugh, a fucking Greek God. I met one today.

The elevator doors begin sliding shut and I catch the faintest curl of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

Heat immediately floods my face. Have I just made a fool out of myself? I spin around before the doors finish closing.

I have never felt so stupid in my entire life. How could I ogle a person like that? An angel or a devil, it’s highly inexcusable!

Shaking the shame from my face, I clear my throat and force my feet to move. The corridor ahead resembles a smaller version of the ground floor, complete with another security checkpoint guarding access to the department. Beside it sits a security guard behind a modest desk, his attention immediately shifting toward me. His eyes narrow slightly as I approach, probably trying to determine whether I belong here or if I’ve wandered onto the wrong floor by mistake.

“Hello.” I lift a hand in greeting.

“Hi.” He gives a short nod. “Do you have a pass?”

I pull out my newly acquired ID and flash it toward him.

His posture visibly relaxes. “Place it there.” He motions toward a small scanner mounted beside the glass security doors.

I follow the instruction, recalling how Marcus had used his card downstairs. The scanner emits a soft beep and the doors immediately slide open.

Technology really does make people feel important.

“Thanks.” I offer him a friendly smile.

“You’re welcome.” He hums with a slow nod, eyeing me as he relaxes back on his chair.

With that obstacle cleared, I continue forward, my gaze wandering across the floor. Unlike the bustling lobby downstairs, this area feels quieter and more organized. The conversations are hushed, and there’s far less movements. My attention eventually settles on another reception desk situated near the entrance, it’s a hard miss as it faces me directly. A small polished plaque rests on the corner, displaying two words in bold capital letters.

SUPPORT TEAM.

Perfect.

I immediately head toward it and summon what has to be my twentieth professional smile of the morning.

“Hello.”

A pretty ginger looks up from her computer and beams at me so brightly I’m momentarily caught off guard.

Well. That’s new.

“Hey, you must be Alexis,” she chirps.

I nod, trying to maintain a smile.

She rises from her chair and extends a hand toward me. “Welcome to Volgez Legal Department. I’m Grace Coleman, Assistant Head of the floor’s support team. I’ll help you settle in and show you around when you’re free. If you need anything at all, just come find me.”

Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?

“Thank you so much,” I mutter, trying to control my relief for finding an agreeable person at last.

“No problem.” She steps around the desk and motions for me to follow. “Come with me. I’ll take you to your workstation and introduce you to everyone.”

“Okay.”

Grace starts walking toward the right side of the floor and I quickly fall into step beside her. We pass through a spacious private office first, one large enough to be mistaken for an apartment living room.

“This is where the Director of Legal Affairs sits,” she explains.

I nod while discreetly taking everything in. The furniture alone probably costs more than my yearly rent.

The next room we pass is even larger.

Through the glass walls, I spot a long conference table surrounded by swivel chairs. A large projector hangs from the ceiling while a massive flat-screen television dominates one side of the room.

“This is one of our meeting rooms,” Grace explains. “We have an entire floor dedicated to meetings, but sometimes it gets fully booked. Most departmental meetings happen here instead. We only use the larger facilities when we’re meeting suppliers, partners, or external stakeholders.”

“I see.”

“The legal department is divided into two major sections,” she continues. “Litigation and Corporate. I assume you’ve been assigned to Corporate?”

“Yeah.” My gaze lingers on two adjacent offices at the far end of the corridor.

Grace stops before the second one. “Then this is where we’re headed.” She gives the door a soft knock before leaning slightly toward me. “This is where you’ll receive assignments and report your progress. She’s the Head of Corporate Affairs.” Grace lowers her voice. “She’s a little difficult, but you’ll get used to it.”

A little difficult?

The door unlocks with a soft click and Grace pushes it open. We step inside.

The office is medium-sized yet impeccably organized. A plush red carpet stretches beneath our feet while sheer white curtains cover the transparent walls facing the corridor, providing some needed privacy. A massive window occupies most of the right wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline and the buildings below.

The centerpiece of the room is an elegant executive desk positioned directly in front of us. Two visitor chairs sit on our side while a single leather chair occupies the other.

And in that chair sits a raven with somewhat attractive, but strict features, clad in her brown designer suit that compliments her flawless tan complexion. She doesn’t look a day older than thirty, although modern beauty products have made age about as reliable as weather forecasts. Behind her stretches an entire wall of built-in shelves packed with law and commercial textbooks, files, a few awards, and some decorative chattels.

“Good morning, Miss Jacqueline. This is Alexis Smith,” Grace introduces.

Piercing green eyes immediately settle on me, leaving a glowing desktop’s display that faces her, her manicured fingers pausing mid-tap.

I offer what I hope resembles a confident smile. “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Hm. We’ll see about that,” she briefly studies me with slight narrowed eyes. “Make sure you’re logged into your computer and the company’s network within ten minutes. I want a Procurement Agreement and a Statement of Work prepared for a new supplier company within three hours. I’ll send the relevant information and reference documents to your email.”

I blink. Eh??

“Any questions?”