The CEO Above My Desk

I don’t work for Rowan Ashcroft. I work beneath him. From my desk, I decide who gets access to the most ruthless CEO in the city, and who never makes it past the lobby. I manage his time, his silence, his enemies. I keep his world running while my own quietly collapses under unpaid bills, a mother locked in rehab, and a brother who vanished without a goodbye. Rowan Ashcroft is power wrapped in a tailored suit. Cold. Untouchable. Merciless. He doesn’t flirt. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t see people, only usefulness. And for a long time, I was just useful. Until he started watching. A shift in his attention is subtle at first. A pause too long. A look that lingers. Orders that pull me closer instead of pushing me away. The man who stands above my desk begins to control more than my schedule, and I realize too late that being noticed by Rowan Ashcroft is far more dangerous than being ignored. Because men like him don’t crave affection. They crave possession. This was supposed to be a job. Not a test of my limits. Not a slow, deliberate descent into his authority. But if Rowan Ashcroft decides I belong under his desk, then so be it. Survival has a price, and the bills don’t care how I pay them.