OWNED BY THE CEO

The Sterling Tower, 8:03 AM

Isabella Monroe was late.

Not the fashionable five-minutes-late of Manhattan socialites. Not the traffic-excuse-late of suburban commuters. She was panting, hair-dislodged-from-its-ponytail, sprinting-past-security late.

All because she'd stopped to help an elderly man pick up his scattered groceries outside the building.

Damn your soft heart, she muttered, jamming the elevator button. The fluorescent lights of Sterling International's lobby reflected off the marble floors, a cold, sterile environment that mirrored the man she was about to meet.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal Alexander Sterling.

Even in her panic, Isabella registered the way his tailored suit clung to broad shoulders, the glacial blue eyes scanning her dishevelment like a bug under a microscope. He stood with an air of effortless authority, his presence commanding the small space.

"You're fired."

His voice was Arctic. Final.

Isabella's pulse spiked-not in fear, but in challenge. She straightened, meeting his gaze. You can't fire me. I don't even work for you yet.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. Your contract starts at eight. It's 8:04.

Then dock my pay.She thrust out the folder in her hands. But you'll want to see this first.

Alexander didn't move. The elevator hummed between them, thick with tension.

What is it?

The flaw in your Blackstone merger terms. She flipped it open, revealing a circled clause. Page 42, Section C. If you sign this, you hand them control of your patents in five years.

His fingers snatched the document. For the first time, something flickered in his eyes-interest.

"Who the hell are you?"

Isabella smiled sweetly. Your new assistant. Sir.

The elevator dinged.

Alexander stepped into the hallway, then paused. Without turning, he growled: My coffee. Black. In my office in ninety seconds.

Isabella rolled her eyes. Yes, Your Majesty.

She could've sworn she saw his shoulders tense.

The Sterling International office buzzed with activity, but the energy seemed to dim as Isabella approached Alexander's office with his coffee. She had taken her time-partly out of spite, partly because she'd gotten lost in the maze of corridors.

She knocked once before entering, finding Alexander seated behind his desk, his gaze fixed on a stack of documents. He didn't look up as she placed the cup in front of him.

"You're late," he said, his voice low.

"Traffic," she replied, straight-faced.

He finally glanced at the cup, then at her. This isn't black.

Isabella feigned innocence. Oh, I must have misheard. I thought you said 'caramel latte.'

His fingers tightened around the cup. You're testing my patience.

And you're testing mine, she shot back. I'm your assistant, not your servant.

Alexander's eyes darkened, but before he could respond, his phone rang. He snatched it up, his tone shifting to razor-sharp professionalism. Sterling.

Isabella took the opportunity to survey his office-sleek, modern, and devoid of personal touches. The only hint of humanity was a single framed photo on the shelf, facedown.

When he hung up, she gestured to it. What's the story there?

None of your business, he snapped.

She shrugged. Just trying to understand my boss.

Your job is to follow orders, not psychoanalyze me.

Then order me to leave, she challenged.

For a moment, they locked eyes, the air between them charged with something unspoken. Then Alexander leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. Fine. Stay. But next time, the coffee better be black.

The Midnight Report

Isabella stifled a yawn as she typed the last of the reports Alexander had demanded by morning. The office was silent, the only light coming from her laptop and the dim glow of the city outside.

She hadn't expected him to still be there, but when she looked up, he was standing in the doorway, watching her.

"You're still here," he said, stepping inside.

"You ordered me to finish these," she replied, rubbing her temples.

He moved closer, his gaze sweeping over her tired expression. "I didn't expect you to actually do it."

"I don't half-ass things," she muttered.

Alexander hesitated, then reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small bottle of painkillers. He tossed them to her. "Take these. You look like hell."

Isabella caught the bottle, surprised. "Thanks... I think."

She swallowed the pills with a sip of water, then leaned back in her chair, exhaustion finally catching up to her.

When she woke, it was to the soft hum of the office heater and the faint scent of Alexander's cologne. She was curled up on the couch in his office, a blanket draped over her.

He was at his desk, working, as if nothing had happened.

How long was I out? she asked, her voice groggy.

Two hours, he replied without looking up.

She sat up, the blanket slipping off her shoulders. Why didn't you wake me?

You needed the rest.

Isabella studied him, trying to reconcile this small act of kindness with the cold CEO she'd come to know. You're not as heartless as you pretend to be, are you?

Alexander finally met her gaze, his expression unreadable. Don't get used to it.Get ready we are going for a business party.

The charity gala was in full swing, the ballroom filled with New York's elite. Isabella adjusted her dress, feeling out of place among the glittering crowd.

Alexander had insisted she attend, though she wasn't sure why. He'd barely spoken to her all evening, too busy schmoozing with investors.

Then Daniel Carter, the CEO of a rival company, approached her.

You must be Alexander's new assistant, he said, offering her a charming smile. I've heard... interesting things about you.

Isabella forced a polite smile. All good, I hope.

Depends on who you ask. He leaned in slightly. Rumor has it you're the only one who's ever stood up to him.

Before she could respond, a hand clamped around her wrist, pulling her back. Alexander's grip was firm, his expression stormy.

Carter, he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Daniel smirked. Sterling. Didn't realize you were so possessive of your employees.

Alexander's fingers tightened around Isabella's wrist. She's not just an employee.

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Isabella's breath caught.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. My mistake.

As he walked away, Alexander finally released her, but the intensity in his eyes remained.

What was that? Isabella demanded.

A warning, he said simply.

To him or to me?

Alexander didn't answer, but the way his gaze dropped to her lips told her everything she needed to know.