CEO's Obsession

Lana’s POV

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding.

I stepped out, my heels hitting the polished marble floor of the top level with a confidence I didn’t feel. It felt like walking straight into a lion’s den.

Everything here screamed power. Glass walls. Cold lighting. Silence that felt expensive.

I adjusted the strap of my bag and walked forward.

“Name?” the receptionist asked without looking up.

Her fingers paused slightly over the keyboard as I spoke, like the system had already been waiting for it.

“Lana Chen. I’m here for the secretary position interview.”

A pause.

Then she finally looked at me—slowly, like she was checking something that already existed in front of her.

I hated that look. The kind that decided your worth before you even spoke again.

“Go in,” she said after a moment, pointing toward the double doors. “He’s waiting.”

He.

My fingers tightened slightly around my file. I had read about him before coming here.

Rowan Volkov.

CEO of Volkov Enterprises. Billionaire. Ruthless. Untouchable. A man who didn’t waste words… or patience.

And apparently, a man who didn’t waste time on interviews either.

I pushed the doors open.

The office was enormous.

And at the center of it all—behind a dark wooden desk—he sat.

Rowan Volkov.

Still handsome as ever.

Those green eyes were the same eyes I had once known too well. Too closely. The kind of memory that didn’t belong in the present—but still knew how to surface at the worst possible time.

Stop, Lana. Don’t go there.

I forced the thought down.

Because now there was something harder about him. Sharper. Controlled in a way that made the air feel heavier.

His gaze lifted from the documents in front of him.

And landed on me.

Silence.

Not awkward.

Intentional.

Like he had been expecting this exact moment.

I forced myself forward.

“Good morning, Mr. Volkov. I’m here for the secretary interview.”

He didn’t respond immediately.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

Then—

“You’re late.”

His voice was calm. Too calm.

My grip tightened around my file. “I was told to arrive at ten. It’s—”

“I know what time it is,” he interrupted.

A pause.

Then he leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes still locked on me.

“Sit.”

One word.

Not a request. A decision already made.

I hesitated for half a second before sitting.

My heartbeat was too loud in my own ears.

Rowan’s gaze never left my face. Not once.

Like he was confirming something only he could see.

Finally, he picked up my file.

Didn’t open it.

Just held it.

Then placed it back down.

Silence stretched again.

I tried to steady my breathing.

This was just an interview.

Just a job.

But something about this room didn’t feel like a process.

It felt like an outcome.

Rowan leaned forward slightly.

“Lana Chen,” he said slowly, like he was testing the name he already knew.

“Yes,” I answered.

Another pause.

Then—

“You’re hired.”

For a second, my brain stalled. “I’m sorry?”

He stood.

The movement alone shifted the atmosphere.

“I said,” he repeated, voice lower, “you’re hired.”

I frowned. “Mr. Volkov, I don’t think you understand. There are other candidates. You haven’t asked me anything.”

“There are no other candidates.”

That made me go still.

“What?”

His eyes stayed on me.

“Your file was the only one I approved.”

A cold ripple went through me.

“That’s not how hiring works.”

“No,” he agreed simply. “Not for most people.”

I stood up now, refusing to let this slide. “I don’t accept this.”

Something shifted in his expression at that.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

Like he had been waiting for those exact words.

“Interesting,” he said quietly.

“What is?”

Rowan tilted his head slightly.

And for the first time, his voice changed.

Not softer.

More personal.

“Still walking away when things don’t go your way.”

My stomach tightened.

That didn’t sound like a CEO talking to an applicant.

That sounded like—

No.

I shut the thought down immediately.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said carefully.

A faint, humorless smile touched his lips.

“No,” he agreed. “You don’t.”

Silence again.

But this one felt heavier.

He walked back to his desk, picked up a pen, and signed something without looking away from me.

“Your contract,” he said. “Secretary. Effective immediately.”

I stared at him. “This is not normal procedure.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not meant to be.”

My breath caught slightly. “I refuse.”

That made him stop writing.

Slowly, he placed the pen down.

And looked at me properly.

Really looked at me.

“You came here for a job,” he said.

“I came here for an interview,” I corrected.

A beat.

Then—

“You needed stability,” he said calmly. “I needed a secretary. Problem solved.”

“That’s not how people make decisions.”

Rowan stepped forward.

One step.

Then another.

Until the space between us felt too structured to be accidental.

“You always used to be braver when it came to refusing me.”

That sentence hit somewhere buried deep.

Somewhere I had locked away and sworn not to open.

My throat tightened. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”

A pause.

His expression flickered—something sharp passing through it.

Then it was gone.

“You’re hired,” he said again, colder now.

I shook my head. “I’m not accepting this.”

“I don’t give people choices when I already know the outcome.”

“That’s not how the world works.”

He turned slightly, voice quiet.

“It is in mine.”

Silence stretched between us.

Heavy.

Controlled.

Intentional.

Then he placed the contract at the edge of the desk.

“Read it,” he said. “Sign it. Or don’t.”

His eyes held mine.

“But you’ll realize very quickly,” he added, “that refusing me was never going to change the result.”

My pulse spiked.

Because for the first time since I walked in—

I understood something was wrong.

Not with the job.

Not with the interview.

With the fact that Rowan Volkov hadn’t been deciding anything today.

He had been confirming it.

And somehow…

I had already been part of his decision long before I ever walked into this room.