Chapter One
Roman Industries
After a long and extraneous search for a decent-paying job, Valencia was full of excitement when she received a call back from Roman Industries. It was considered one of the city’s biggest and most prestigious marketing businesses, owned by Mr. Roman Ortiz. There were many rumors that he started his company from nothing at eighteen and steadily built an empire that continued to grow until it became what it is now.
Roman Ortiz’s corporation was known for doing business with the most prominent companies worldwide, including Cobalt Inc., Galaxy Tech., and XperYanZe United, as well as the smallest ones known around our city. Anything before then, though, was nonexistent. All of Roman Ortiz’s records before his eighteenth birthday were nowhere to be found. The man was full of mystery. Valencia only hoped he wasn’t like her old boss, but nothing would have prepared her for the man she would meet.
When Valencia got the call about being his assistant, she dug into the deep web, trying to find everything she could about the man she would soon be working for. After a few days, she realized that his childhood was missing. She wanted to be prepared, but it only left her frustrated. Valencia had hoped that doing a little homework before meeting her new boss would help ease her nerves; instead, it only left her with more questions.
Valencia had never been an assistant to anyone and wondered why they had given her a job she hadn’t even applied for. The woman she spoke with on the phone could only tell her that Mr. Roman Ortiz’s current assistant was set to retire and had asked for someone younger to take her place. Someone able and willing to be on-call at all hours of the day, with unclear holidays. Valencia’s teeth chattered at the thought.
At first, she wasn’t sure about the grueling and demanding position provided to her until the woman mentioned her pay. Valencia would be able to live not only comfortably but lavishly, too. Her income would be much more than most assistants would have dreamed; she knew this because she had researched it.
They wanted her to start immediately, as the old assistant would watch over her for the first few weeks, teaching Valencia her responsibilities, expectations, and requirements. After that, she was unsure how much time she’d have to live an everyday life—no more guaranteed free weekends, no more late nights out, or any kind of fun. Dating was hard enough; taking this job would make it nearly impossible.
The options swam around her as she drove until the answers were clear. Her life had been falling apart for months, and this job was the best that had happened to her in so long. Nothing mattered anymore. Everything she was worried about losing, she had already lost. Valencia was forced to quit her last job as a receptionist after finding the courage to report her disgusting supervisor, Mr. Devilin. The complication began when she asked for a raise he had promised her, which she deserved.
All he wanted in return was for Valencia to become his new lover. The memory of his beady little eyes staring at her breast as they spoke made her stomach turn and knot. Even worse, the sound of him licking his lips echoed in her mind, creating a cold chill running down her spine. The phantom feeling of his knobby, thin, and wrinkled fingers trailing down her hip to her thigh made her nauseous. Revolted and angry by his unwanted advances, Valencia stormed out of his office without giving Mr. Devilin an answer. His intentions were too precise to be mistaken.
With rage coursing through her veins, she marched straight to the top to report him to the company’s CEO, Ms. Katherin Avery. The woman was also the aunt to her now ex-best friend, Samantha. At the time, Valencia was sure her voice would be heard as a fellow woman and that her feelings would be considered.
Sexual harassment was supposed to be a severe offense in the workplace, and she hoped that Ms. Avery would handle the situation accordingly. For a while, Valencia paced back and forth in the waiting area. Her reflection walked with her across the glass coffee table. She tried to ignore the annoying side-eye Ms. Avery’s assistant gave her, but they were like daggers, piercing through the thick skin she believed she always had until today.
Today, Valencia’s rage was slowly turning into vulnerability. She felt like a child about to get scolded for something she had nothing to do with. Every time she tried to sit, her legs would shake with unease. She nearly chewed her nails down to the roots until Ms. Avery finally poked her head out from her office and invited Valencia inside. With an act of newfound courage, Valencia marched right in, and before Ms. Avery even sat, the words poured out of Valencia’s mouth.
Katherine listened quietly and attentively, finally sitting in her chair, arms crossed, and a smirk on her very stretched face. When Valencia finished her heated rant, Ms. Avery leaned back into her chair, her fingers interlaced, and her frown turned into a condescending smile—capturing Valencia’s eyes with the bright red lipstick smeared across the woman’s two front teeth.
“Ms. Reyes,” she began, “ I will assume you are done, so I’ll get to the point as quickly as possible. I took so long to come for you because I was on the phone with Mr. Devilin, and the story he told me is pretty different from yours. See, Mr. Devilin says that the two of you have been in an intimate relationship for quite some time and that you knew he would never leave his wife for you. From what he understood, you were okay with the arrangements at first. He also said that after a few months of sneaking off to hotels for your little rendezvous, you grew tired and jealous of the time and money he spent with his wife.
“You threatened to tell her about the affair if Mr. Devilin didn’t leave his wife for you. When that failed, you stormed into his office and tried to seduce him one last time into doing what you wanted him to. When he refused, you offered to keep your mouth closed so long as he raised your salary. Seeing how you are dressed today,” she paused as she studied my attire, “it is clear what your intentions were, and it would be wise for you to retract your accusations or…”
Everything went silent after that. Valencia’s blood boiled; her legs reacted instinctively and led her out of the woman’s office. She went to her desk, grabbed her belongings, and left in a daze. She refused to look back and let herself regret the most prominent decision she had ever made.
On the bright side, Valencia was a financially stable woman. Thankfully, she was smart enough to save money from every check he had received. Because of this, she could live without a job for two months. Still, it was taking a toll on her savings, and with only a hundred dollars left in her account, if she hadn’t landed this occupation, she wouldn’t have been able to make next month’s rent. She’d end up losing her apartment, and for the first time in her life, she had no one to turn to.
Determination began to course through her. The sacrifices that came with her new employment would be worth it. It had to be. Being jobless, friendless, boyfriendless, and an orphan, it had to be. After so many heartbreaks, Valencia decided that stepping away from and concentrating on her new career was a good idea. No one else mattered anymore.
That Monday, butterflies made their home in her stomach as she pulled into the parking lot across the street. Immediately, she was awestruck by the building that stood before her. The photos of Roman Industries on the interweb did it no justice. Valencia crawled out of her cherry red-colored 2017 Audi Sport Quattro while her gaze was stuck to the building with thirty floors; from what she had read, Mr. Ortiz’s office was at the top.
The building had wide open windows from floor to ceiling, with silver metal holding everything in place. It shone brightly against the sun as if Mr. Ortiz had it polished daily. It was beautifully blinding. Carefully trimmed bushes and trees surrounded Roman Industries. Colorful, radiant flowers adorned the space around those same bushes and trees.
To the right of the establishment was a public parking lot; to its left was a more private parking garage used solely by his employees and select guests. With one last look, Valencia strode inside with her chin held high and her back straightened. She wanted to exude confidence upon her entry–even if she wasn’t feeling it entirely.
The clacking echoes of her heels against the waxed ceramic floors blended with the rest of the rapid footfalls, tapping fingers on keyboards, and clamorous yet murmured conversations around her. Valencia felt insignificant for no more than a moment, but quickly shook the feeling off as her eyes met the receptionist’s gaze behind a dark gray granite counter.
The woman wore a tight white button-up blouse with an adorable black tie hanging down her chest. Her hair was held together in a single braid, with bangs falling loosely over her eyebrows. Her powder-pink-painted lips curled into a warm, welcoming smile when she spotted Valencia walking toward her. The woman quickly placed her glossy and manicured fingers on the keyboard, ready to tap away at any moment.
“Good morning, and welcome to Roman Industries. Do you have an appointment?” She continued to smile as she waited for Valencia to answer.
“Yes,” Valencia smiled brightly, “my name is Valencia Reyes, and I have an appointment with Ms. Eliza Medina.”
The woman’s fingers typed feverishly against the keyboard for a second before speaking again. “Ah, yes. Ms. Reyes, you can head right up to the twenty-ninth floor. Ms. Medina will be there waiting for your arrival.” She pointed toward the elevators.
“Thank you so much,” Valencia replied enthusiastically.
Valencia strode through the crowd toward the elevators, pushed the button to go up, and waited until one appeared. She nervously smiled as she waited patiently for everyone to leave. Once empty, Valencia entered and noticed that the elevator, indeed, only went up to the twenty-ninth floor.
As odd as it was, she pressed the button and watched the polished doors close. Valencia anxiously stared at her reflection, listening to the muffled, monotonous whirring and soft, yet mundane, melody from the lift. She ensured all hair strands were neatly tucked into the two long braids she enlaced earlier that morning. She tugged at the collar of her white buttoned-up blouse and tucked it tighter into her black pencil skirt.
Just before she reached the top floor, Valencia pulled a bright red lipstick from her black Michael Kors purse and applied a fresh layer to her lips.
A faint ding shot a chill down Valencia’s spine, reminding her that the only experience of being anyone’s assistant came from the movie The Devil Wears Prada. If Roman Ortiz were anything like Miranda Priestly, she wasn’t sure how long she’d last here at Roman Industries.
No, she couldn’t think that way. Valencia needed this job, and she’d be damned if a pretentious, broody, angry, and demanding thirty-one-year-old man would run her out of a career that could benefit her life in more ways than one. Valencia stepped out of the elevator, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.
She placed a hand over her stomach, trying to ease the eager butterflies, and opened her eyes to find an older woman with a significant smile greeting her. Valencia’s cheeks went slightly pink as she wondered how long the woman had been standing there.
“Good morning, Ms. Valencia Reyes; my name is Eliza Medina. Welcome to Roman Industries.” She took Valencia’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Please, follow me.” She turned at the heel and led the way.
