Terms and Conditions

Sam's POV

The morning already felt rushed.

“Samantha, at least eat something before you leave!”

“I’ll eat at the office, Mom!” I called back, not slowing down, already slipping into my heels as I grabbed my bag.

“You always say that—”

“And today I mean it!” I cut in quickly, softer this time, but I was already at the door.

If I stayed even a second longer, I knew I’d give in. And I couldn’t afford that. Not today.

I stepped outside, the cool morning air brushing against my skin as I spotted the cab waiting by the gate.

Relief.

I hurried toward it, pulling the door open and sliding inside.

“Downtown, please.” I said, adjusting my bag on my lap as the cab pulled away.

For a moment, I just sat there, watching the streets pass by in a blur. My fingers tightened slightly around the strap of my purse.

“I’ll eat at the office.” I murmured under my breath.

It sounded… unconvincing. Even to me.

My stomach twisted in quiet protest, but I ignored it, straightening a little in my seat.

First day. No distractions.

By the time the cab slowed to a stop, my heart was already beating faster than it should have been.

I looked up.

The building stood tall in front of me—glass, steel, and far more intimidating up close than I had imagined.

Voss Group of Companies.

For a second, I didn’t move.

Then I paid quickly, stepped out, and stood there, staring at the entrance like it might swallow me whole.

My grip tightened around my bag.

Breathe, Sam.

I took a slow, steady breath, squaring my shoulders as I forced my feet to move.

And then—

I walked inside.

The moment I stepped inside, everything shifted.

The air felt different—cooler, sharper, like the building itself demanded a certain kind of composure. My heels echoed softly against the polished floor as I moved forward, each step measured, controlled… even though my pulse wasn’t.

The lobby stretched out in quiet elegance—glass, marble, muted conversations blending into a low hum that made me feel both small and very, very visible at the same time.

I adjusted my grip on my bag, steadying myself, and walked toward the reception desk.

The woman sitting there looked up almost immediately, her expression professional but not unkind. Her eyes flicked over me quickly, assessing—like she already knew why I was here.

“Hi.” I said, offering a small, polite smile. “I’m Samantha Hayes. It’s my first day… I was told to report here.”

Her lips curved just slightly, like she’d been expecting me.

“Yes, Samantha Hayes.”

She glanced down briefly, probably at a schedule or list, before looking back at me.

“Welcome. And good luck for your first day.”

Something in the way she said it made my fingers tighten just a little around my bag.

“Thank you,” I replied, softer now.

She stood, smoothing down her outfit with practiced ease.

“Come with me.”

I followed her, my steps falling into rhythm behind hers as we moved toward the elevators. The doors slid open with a quiet chime, and we stepped inside.

The silence there felt heavier.

Second floor.

The numbers lit up one by one, and with each passing second, the reality of where I was sank deeper into my chest.

The doors opened again, and she led me out into a quieter corridor. This floor felt different from the lobby—less open, more focused. People moved with purpose, voices lower, footsteps quicker.

“This way,” she said, glancing back briefly to make sure I was still keeping up.

We walked past a row of glass-partitioned cabins before she finally stopped in front of one and turned toward me.

“This will be your workspace.”

I stepped inside, my eyes taking in everything at once—the desk, the neatly arranged files, the computer already set up like it had been waiting for me.

“You’ll be working as an executive assistant under senior management,” she continued. “It’s an important role, reporting directly within the upper structure of the company.”

Not too high.

Not too low.

Right in the middle of everything that mattered.

My heart skipped, just slightly.

“If you need anything, you can ask at reception,” she added, already stepping back toward the door. “Someone will brief you further shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said again, meaning it this time.

She gave a small nod before leaving, the door closing softly behind her.

And just like that—

I was alone.

I stood there for a moment, my hand still wrapped around the strap of my bag, my gaze lingering over the space that was now mine.

First day.

First step.

I took a slow breath, setting my bag down carefully on the desk.

“I’ve got this.” I whispered to myself.

Even if I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it.

The office had settled into a quiet rhythm by the time I finally allowed myself a break.

I wrapped my hands around the warm cup of tea, letting the heat seep into my fingers as I leaned back slightly in my chair. It wasn’t much, but it helped—something steady, something normal in the middle of everything that felt new and uncertain.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so overwhelming after all.

I had just taken a small sip when there was a knock on the door.

Soft. Controlled.

My body reacted before my mind did.

I set the cup down quickly and stood up, smoothing my outfit almost instinctively as my eyes moved toward the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and for a second, I just… looked.

He was tall, well put together in a way that didn’t feel forced. Sharp features softened by a calm expression, and a pair of glasses that somehow made him look both intelligent and approachable at the same time.

Handsome. Effortlessly so.

But not intimidating.

“Hi.” he said, stepping inside with an easy confidence. “You must be Samantha Hayes.”

His voice was warm—steady, professional, but not cold.

“Yes,” I replied, offering a small nod. “That’s me.”

He smiled, and it reached his eyes.

“Christian Blake,” he said, extending his hand toward me. “I’m your senior. You’ll be working with my team.”

I stepped forward and shook his hand, his grip firm but polite.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” he said, releasing my hand as he glanced briefly around the cabin, like he was already assessing how I’d fit into everything.

“I thought I’d come by and give you a quick overview before things get busy.”

“I’d appreciate that,” I said, a little more relaxed now.

He nodded, slipping into a more professional tone as he began explaining.

“You’ll be assisting on multiple sectors—primarily internal coordination, reports, and executive scheduling. It’s a fast-paced role, but manageable once you get the hang of it.”

I listened carefully, focusing on every word, every detail.

“Most of our work revolves around keeping things running smoothly between departments,” he continued. “You’ll also be handling some communication directly linked to upper management.”

That made my attention sharpen instantly.

Upper management.

Right where everything mattered.

“If you stay organized, you’ll be fine.” he added, offering a reassuring smile.

I nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will.”

There was a brief pause before he gestured lightly toward the door.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the team.”

I followed him out, matching my steps to his as we walked through the corridor. The space felt a little less intimidating now, like I had some kind of direction.

We stopped near a cluster of desks where a few people were already working.

“Everyone,” Christian said, his voice just loud enough to gather attention. “This is Samantha Hayes. She’ll be joining us starting today.”

A few heads turned, polite smiles exchanged, greetings murmured.

“Samantha, this is your team,” he added, glancing back at me.

“Hi,” I said, offering a small smile, trying to memorize faces, names, everything at once.

Christian stood beside me, calm, composed, like he belonged exactly where he was.

And for the first time since I walked into the building—

I felt like maybe, just maybe…

I could belong here too.

When I returned to my cabin, the quiet felt different this time.

Not intimidating. Not overwhelming.

Just… expectant.

I pulled my chair in and sat down, reaching for the files Christian had handed me earlier. The papers felt heavier than they should have, like they carried more than just numbers and summaries—like they carried responsibility.

Real responsibility.

I opened the first report, my eyes scanning the lines carefully, slower than usual, making sure I didn’t miss anything. Every detail mattered. Every word. Every figure.

No mistakes.

The thought settled firmly in my mind, tightening something in my chest.

Because this wasn’t just any position.

I wasn’t just working in another office, blending into another routine.

I was assisting upper management now.

Direct communication. Direct responsibility.

Which meant—

Direct consequences.

I paused, my fingers resting lightly against the page as that realization sank in.

I couldn’t afford to mess up.

I didn’t want to be the one standing in front of someone from upper management, being corrected… or worse, dismissed with that quiet disappointment that said you don’t belong here.

A small breath escaped me.

Okay.

That scared me. Just a little.

But I straightened in my seat almost immediately, pushing that thought aside before it could settle too deeply.

No.

I wasn’t going to think like that.

I earned this.

My grip tightened slightly on the file as my gaze refocused, sharper this time.

This wasn’t luck.

I hadn’t just walked into this building by chance.

I had been working in my previous company for almost two years—long enough to understand pressure, deadlines, expectations. I had built a record there. Clean, consistent, reliable.

I didn’t miss deadlines.

I didn’t create problems.

I handled them.

And someone had noticed.

The transfer hadn’t been random. It had been a recommendation.

A decision.

They had reviewed my work, my reports, my performance—and decided I was fit for something more. Something bigger.

This.

This position.

This company.

This floor.

A faint, almost disbelieving smile touched my lips for a second.

They thought I could handle this.

Which meant...

I could.

I exhaled slowly, the tension in my shoulders easing just a little as I turned back to the report in front of me.

“I belong here.” I murmured under my breath, quieter this time… but steadier.

And this time...

I almost believed it.

My eyes moved across the report, but for a moment, the words blurred—not because I didn’t understand them, but because my mind drifted back to how I had even ended up here in the first place.

It still felt a little unreal.

Just a few weeks ago, I had been working in another branch of the same company. Smaller. Familiar. Predictable in a way that made everything easier to manage.

I knew the people there.

I knew the rhythm.

I knew exactly where I stood.

And then this opportunity came up.

This position—vacant in this branch, somewhere far above anything I had expected for myself so soon.

I hadn’t applied for it.

I hadn’t even considered it.

They had.

Management had reviewed internal reports, performance records… my work.

And somehow, my name had made it to that list.

Recommended.

Transferred.

Chosen.

The thought still sat strangely in my chest.

Not because I doubted my work—I knew what I was capable of. I had proven that much to myself already. My reports had always been consistent, my deadlines met, my work clean and reliable.

But this?

This was different.

Bigger.

More visible.

More… demanding.

They had seen something in me strong enough to move me here, to place me in a position that directly connected to upper management.

Which meant they trusted me.

A slow breath left me as my fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the file.

Trust like that wasn’t given lightly.

And it definitely wasn’t something I could afford to break.

I straightened in my chair, my focus sharpening again as my eyes returned to the report in front of me.

No distractions.

No second-guessing.

If they believed I could handle this—

Then I would make sure they were right.

By the time I finished reviewing the report, the office had quieted down.

The soft hum of conversations had faded, replaced by the occasional sound of keyboards and distant footsteps. Most people were already wrapping up for the day.

But not me.

I glanced at the final page one last time, making sure everything was in place before closing the file carefully. A small breath left me—half relief, half lingering tension.

First report. Done.

I stood up, picking up the file and smoothing it slightly between my fingers before stepping out of my cabin and making my way toward Christian’s.

His door was slightly ajar.

I knocked lightly before pushing it open.

He was still at his desk, exactly as I had expected—focused, composed, glasses resting neatly on his face as the glow of the screen reflected faintly in them.

For a second, he didn’t notice me.

Then he shifted, his gaze lifting from the screen to meet mine.

“Oh—Samantha,” he said, straightening slightly in his chair. “You’re still here.”

“I finished the report,” I replied, stepping inside and holding the file out slightly. “I thought I should hand it over before leaving.”

He looked at the file, then back at me, something thoughtful crossing his expression.

“Actually…” he paused, glancing briefly at his screen before exhaling lightly. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“I need this submitted to Mr. Voss tonight...” he said, nodding toward the file in my hand. “I’d go myself, but I’m tied up with something urgent.”

My grip on the file tightened—just slightly.

Mr. Voss.

“Do you think you could take it to him?” he added, his tone polite, almost apologetic. “He’ll need it now.”

For a fraction of a second, I hesitated.

Not outwardly.

Just inside.

This would be my first direct interaction with upper management.

With him.

But then I nodded.

“Yes, I can do that.”

“Thank you,” Christian said, offering a small, appreciative smile. “Top floor. His office is on the fifteenth.”

I gave a quick nod before turning and stepping out of the cabin, the file feeling noticeably heavier in my hands now.

The elevator ride felt longer than it should have.

Fifteenth floor.

Each number lighting up one after the other made my heartbeat just a little louder, a little faster.

I adjusted my grip on the file, trying to steady myself.

It’s just a submission.

Just work.

But it didn’t feel like just anything.

The doors finally slid open.

This floor was… different.

Quieter. More refined. Like even the air carried a certain authority. The corridor stretched ahead, lined with closed doors and dim, controlled lighting that made everything feel sharper, more precise.

More intimidating.

I stepped out slowly, my heels sounding louder than they had any right to in the silence.

At the end of the corridor—

One door.

I stopped in front of it, my fingers tightening slightly around the file.

This was it.

My heart was beating faster now, steady but impossible to ignore.

I lifted my hand and knocked.

A brief pause.

Then—

“Come in.”

The voice was deep. Calm.

Controlled.

Something about it made my breath catch for just a second.

I reached for the handle, pushing the door open slowly—

And stepped inside.

The door closed softly behind me.

For a moment, I didn’t move.

The office was larger than I expected—minimal, precise, everything in its place like it had been measured down to the last detail. The lighting was low but deliberate, casting a muted glow across the room that made everything feel… controlled.

Calculated.

My gaze shifted forward.

He was seated behind his desk.

Dominic Voss.

He sat behind the desk like he owned more than just the company—like he owned the silence in the room too. Sharp features, dark unreadable eyes, and an expression so calm it bordered on intimidating. His black suit fit him perfectly, sleeves folded just enough to reveal the expensive watch resting against his wrist.

But he didn’t look at me.

Not immediately.

His attention remained fixed on the file in front of him, one hand resting against the desk while the other turned a page with slow, unhurried precision. As if time moved differently for him. As if nothing required urgency unless he decided it did.

I stood there, still holding the file, suddenly aware of how loud my own breathing felt in the silence.

Say something, Sam.

“Sir,” I began, my voice softer than I intended. “I—”

“Close the door.”

The words were calm.

Not raised. Not sharp.

But they carried enough authority to stop everything else.

My fingers tightened slightly around the file as I turned, pushing the door shut completely before facing him again.

He still hadn’t looked up.

“I have your report,” I said, steadier this time, taking a small step forward. “Christian asked me to deliver it.”

A pause.

Then—

“Come here.”

Two simple words.

And yet—

My heartbeat picked up.

I moved.

One step. Then another.

Each one slower than the last, my grip on the file firm as I approached his desk. The closer I got, the more aware I became of everything—the quiet, the space, the way the air itself felt heavier here.

I stopped just short of the desk, placing the file carefully in front of him.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then his hand moved.

Not toward the file.

But upward.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Until his gaze finally met mine.

And just like that—

Everything stilled.

His eyes were sharp. Observant in a way that didn’t just look at me—it read me. Took in every detail, every hesitation, every breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I felt it.

That awareness.

That proximity.

Like the space between us had narrowed without him even moving.

“Ms. Hayes.” he said, my name rolling off his tongue with quiet precision.

Not a question.

A confirmation.

“Yes,” I managed, my voice barely above steady.

His gaze lingered for a second longer before shifting—briefly—to the file I had placed in front of him.

“You’re new.”

Again—not a question.

“Yes, sir. I joined today.”

A faint pause followed.

Not empty.

Measured.

And then...

“First day.” he repeated softly, almost to himself.

His eyes lifted again, locking onto mine with the same controlled intensity.

And suddenly, I was very aware of how close I was standing.

A breath.

Just a breath apart.

The silence stretched for a moment longer than it should have.

Or maybe it just felt that way because I was standing there, completely aware of him—of the way his presence filled the room without effort, of the way his gaze lingered just enough to make it impossible to ignore.

Then he moved.

Not abruptly. Not carelessly.

Deliberately.

His chair shifted back with a quiet sound against the floor as he stood, straightening to his full height. The movement was unhurried, controlled—like everything else about him.

And then, he stepped around the desk.

My breath caught before I could stop it.

There had been distance before. A barrier. The desk between us, something that made this feel… formal.

Safe.

Now there was nothing.

I instinctively straightened, my fingers tightening ever so slightly at my sides as he closed that space with a few measured steps.

One.

Two.

And then he stopped.

Too close.

Close enough that I could feel the shift in the air, like the space itself had narrowed around us. Close enough that I became suddenly, painfully aware of every small detail—the faint scent of his cologne, the quiet steadiness of his breathing, the way I had to tilt my head just slightly to meet his gaze.

He didn’t touch me.

He didn’t need to.

“Your first day,” he said again, his voice lower now, quieter, but somehow more present.

“Yes.”

The word left me before I could think about it.

His eyes didn’t leave mine.

“Christian trusts you enough to send you up here.”

It wasn’t approval.

It wasn’t doubt either.

It was observation.

“I completed the report,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. “He asked me to deliver it.”

A pause.

His gaze shifted briefly, not away, just enough to acknowledge the file resting behind me on the desk.

Then it returned.

Sharper this time.

“And you didn’t hesitate?”

My throat felt a little too dry.

“I didn’t see a reason to.”

That seemed to hold his attention.

For a second, something unreadable passed through his expression—something quieter, deeper, like he was measuring the weight of that answer.

And then,

He took one step closer.

Not much.

Barely anything.

But enough.

Enough to make the space between us disappear entirely.

A breath.

That’s all it was now.

Just a breath.

My heart was beating faster—I could feel it—but I didn’t move. Didn’t step back. Didn’t break the line of his gaze.

I wasn’t sure if it was confidence—

Or something else entirely.

His eyes flicked down for the briefest moment, like he noticed it too. That stillness. That refusal to retreat.

Then back up again.

“Good,” he said quietly.

Not praise.

Not warmth.

Just… acknowledgment.

And somehow, that felt more dangerous than either.

He didn’t look up immediately.

His eyes moved across the page with slow precision, scanning every line like he wasn’t just reading—he was evaluating. Weighing. Deciding.

I stood where I was, still and composed, even though my awareness of him hadn’t faded. Not even a little.

The silence stretched.

Then—

He closed the file.

Not abruptly. Not carelessly.

Deliberately.

The sound was soft, but it felt louder than it should have.

He lifted his gaze to me again, those dark eyes settling on mine with the same unreadable depth. For a second, he said nothing—just watched, like he was deciding something I wasn’t part of.

Then he shifted his posture slightly, one hand sliding into his pocket while the other held the file loosely against his chest.

Effortless.

Controlled.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice even, “if a delay occurs in inter-departmental reporting, where does the breakdown usually begin?”

The question caught me off guard.

Not because I didn’t know the answer—

But because of how directly he asked it.

Like he expected me to.

Like hesitation wouldn’t be acceptable.

I straightened slightly, my mind already aligning the pieces.

“It usually begins at the coordination level,” I replied, steady and clear. “If communication isn’t streamlined between departments, delays build before they’re even noticed. Most of the time, it’s not the execution—it’s the transfer of information that fails first.”

I didn’t rush.

Didn’t second-guess.

I held his gaze as I spoke.

For a moment...

Nothing.

No reaction.

No approval.

No correction.

His expression didn’t change. Not even slightly.

Those dark, steady eyes remained on mine, as unreadable as before.

Old.

Not in age—

But in the way they carried something deeper. Something that didn’t reveal itself easily.

He just stood there, one hand in his pocket, the file resting against his chest, completely still.

Assessing.

Measuring.

And giving absolutely nothing away.

A second passed.

Then another.

And just when the silence began to feel almost intentional—

“You can leave, Ms. Hayes.”

Just like that.

Calm. Final.

No acknowledgment of whether I had answered correctly.

No indication of what he thought.

Just dismissal.

I held his gaze for a fraction longer, resisting the urge to read something—anything—in his expression.

But there was nothing to read.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

I turned, my steps controlled as I walked toward the door, even though I could still feel his presence behind me.

Unmoved.

Unchanged.

Like I had walked into his space and left without disturbing it at all. I reached for the handle, pausing only for a second before opening the door and stepping out.

The moment it closed behind me, I exhaled.

Slowly.

Only then realizing, I had been holding my breath the entire time.

Hey readers,

This is my another book. An office romance.

You can also read my other works that are completed.

Bandook Meri Laila.

Golden Ruin.

Let me know how was the opening chapter of this book. Show some love and I would love all the sweet comments you guys make. I appreciate everyone's support for me until now.

Let me know what kind of tropesyou guys want next

Love you all,

~Readtomesam.