Julian Carter Jr. wasn't known for sentimentality, but the way he personally escorted Rose Moreau to her new office space said otherwise. The building was grand, sleek, every corner boasting clean lines and a bold elegance that practically whispered wealth and power. Rose walked beside him, her heels lightly clicking against the polished marble floor, the scent of polished wood and subtle cologne lingering in the air.
When Julian opened the frosted glass door to reveal her private workspace, Rose blinked in surprise.
It was beautiful.
A large window let in a flood of natural light, illuminating the glossy mahogany desk and the plush cream-colored rug beneath it. Tasteful art adorned the walls—not too loud, not too subtle. The furniture was minimalist but expensive, the kind you didn't just buy; you commissioned it. Her eyes traveled across the room and landed on a small but elegant bookshelf, already stocked with corporate manuals and hardcovers.
"Wow," she murmured, still taking it all in.
"You have good taste in design," she said out loud, turning toward Julian.
Julian smirked. "I should. I picked it."
That signature smug glint was back in his eyes, and Rose rolled hers slightly, half amused. He stepped forward, his tone shifting into something more professional.
"Settle in. You won't be taking on too much today. Your main duty is assisting me directly. Think of it as being my second secretary—or assistant, depending on the task."
Rose raised an eyebrow. That wasn't what he had told her back at her house.
"But… you said you needed someone you trust in that position. This can't be it, right?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in confusion.
Julian tilted his head, watching her. "You won't understand now. But you will, eventually. For now, consider this your base. You'll be handling internal communications, reports, board meeting agendas, and other executive-level tasks."
Before she could press further, he smoothly added, "If you need food or a drink, just press the intercom."
"I'm fine, thanks," she replied, still slightly dazed by the size of the office.
"Good. My other secretary, Karen, will come by shortly. She'll guide you through how things are done."
And with that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him. Rose took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting her fingers brush against the edge of her desk. She felt powerful. Not because of the space or even the fancy chair she sank into, but because this moment was hers. She had stepped out of the shadow of her father's name, out of the club lights and into something real.
Hours passed. Three, to be exact. And no assignments arrived. She had arranged and rearranged her desk twice. Organized the files on the bookshelf by size. And now, as she reached for her phone out of sheer boredom—
The door swung open.
A tall, elegant woman walked in like she belonged on the cover of a business magazine. Long, jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulder, and a fitted, emerald green suit hugged her hourglass figure. Her heels made no sound, but her presence was loud. Confident. Sharp.
"You must be Rose," she said, offering a polite but brisk smile. "I'm Karen, Mr. Carter's secretary. Your colleague."
Rose stood up. "Nice to meet you."
She couldn't help but admire her. Karen had a presence that demanded respect—and maybe just a pinch of intimidation.
Karen didn't waste time. She placed a thick folder on Rose's desk.
"Today's work. These are highly restricted files, internal communications and sensitive board documents. I was told you're to be trusted. Keep them confidential."
Rose nodded, her brows slightly raised at the tone.
Karen continued, her voice calm but firm, "You can finish them today or continue tomorrow, but my advice? Get it done today. Procrastination builds pressure."
She pointed casually.
"Mr. Carter's office is through the large door at the right end of the hallway. The board room is a floor down, through the left wing. You'll know it when you see it—big double doors."
Then, without so much as a goodbye, she turned on her heel and exited.
The silence left behind was heavy.
"Well, damn," Rose muttered. "That woman doesn't play."
Still, she respected it. Karen was the kind of woman you watched and learned from—a walking masterclass in corporate efficiency. Rose figured she could pick up a lot from her, though she also wouldn't mind figuring out if Karen was human or part machine.
No tour. No small talk. Just facts and files.
Rose sat down and opened the folder. She traced her fingers over the top document like it was a treasure map. Her eyes sparkled with determination as she dove into the paperwork. Numbers, terms, reports—it didn't matter. She was ready to prove herself.
She worked diligently, humming softly, occasionally pausing to scribble notes. It felt surreal. She wasn't some club girl anymore, trying to hide behind her past. She is Rose, corporate assistant, tackling confidential files with all the grace of a seasoned professional.
She was in her zone.
As the hours ticked by, her phone buzzed. A message from Daniel:
> How's it going in the land of suits and ties?
She smiled.
> Boring at first. Then I met Karen. I think she could stare down a dragon.
His reply came instantly.
> LOL. Be careful. Don't let her eat you alive.
> Too late. She already left me with a mountain of files.
> You got this, Rose.
That last message made her pause. Was she? The name didn't feel like it belonged anymore. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe she was finally becoming her own person.
And as she flipped the page to another confidential document and scribbled a note in clean, confident handwriting, she realized something:
She belonged here.