Chapter Text
Monday again.
My alarm shrieks through the abyss, ripping me from the sweet cocoon of sleep. With a groan, I silence the annoying device. 6 AM. Too early for such noise. I could sleep for a few more minutes…
No. Get up. Being late isn’t worth getting a scolding lecture from the boss. Been there, done that. I can just hear him now...
“Your tardiness is a direct reflection of me and will not be tolerated.”
The recollection alone makes my skin prickle.
I slowly slide out from beneath the covers and with half-closed eyes, pad barefoot across the chilly vinyl floor to my cramped bathroom where the promise of a hot shower beckons. I flip on the light and catch a glimpse of my reflection. “Grotesque” may be dramatic, but…yikes. Either the stress of my new job is already eating me alive, or I need to stop binge-reading romance novels until two in the morning. Stripping off my cheap, satin pajamas I sit on the edge of the tub and turn on the faucet, running my hand under the spray waiting for it to warm.
Three weeks. That’s how long I’ve been working at Nanami & Yaga, LLP. My first job after college, my first taste in independence, my first time living away from my father’s suffocating household. When Mom died, Dad’s warmth went with her, and freedom became as foreign as laughter in that prison.
Don’t even ask how I landed this job, God only knows. A newbie like me. Working as an executive assistant whose only professional background includes a B.A. in Economic Science and a three-month stint interning at Goldman Sachs. Either the hiring manager was desperate, or my boss was…
Kento Nanami: Vice President and COO of the firm. Whose very name is plastered across the obnoxious company logo. Rumor has it when Kento’s father retired, he handed the CEO title to Masamichi Yaga, the co-founder’s eldest son, instead of him. Sounds messy, but that’s not the kind of drama I’m about to poke at. Kento himself though, or as I must address him, Mr. Nanami, is incredibly intellectually adept and blunt. His very presence is a command, not a request. Oh, and stern. Terrifyingly stern. Actually, terrifying doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt the first time I saw him.
*********
On my first day, the first greeting I received was from the hiring manager: “Don’t expect to be here long. Mr. Nanami has very particular standards.”
When I stepped into Kento’s office, I immediately noticed he had the kind of face that was designed to be unreadable. All sharp lines and deliberate restraint, like someone had sculpted him out of marble and then told him he wasn’t allowed to smile. His jaw was too strong for his own good, and that platinum-blond hair of his managed to fall just out of place by mid-afternoon as if daring me to reach out and smooth it back. His eyes are the worst of all. Flat, steady the color of autumn leaves. It’s like they have a way of slicing right through you before you even realize he’s looking. The suit he was wearing didn’t help either. A navy-blue blazer stretched over broad shoulders, the sleeves hugging his arms that seem too powerful for desk work, as if he should be in a more manually intensive profession. Maybe a soldier o-or athlete...anything but the man who made my coffee breaks feel like interrogations! And what was I doing? I was sitting there with my pen in hand, pretending to take notes, when all I really wanted to do was trace the sharp angle of his cheekbone with my finger and ponder what kind of sick joke the universe was playing to make me his assistant…
*********
After my shower I lean over the sink for my usual skincare routine and a quick blow-dry. No time for pin-straight today, soft waves will have to do. Makeup becomes both a means of self-care and armor; extra concealer to hide the under-eye bags courtesy of my best friend, Nobara, convincing me that bar hopping on a Sunday night was a good idea.
I slip into some sheer stockings, a light-blue tweed miniskirt I bought recently, a white blouse and a matching jacket, and finish the look with a pair of white heels. Professional, but not too buttoned-up. The blouse, however, dips a bit lower than I’d like, but maybe a flirty edge will earn me brownie points. After a final glance and wiping off some rogue lipstick from the corner of my mouth, I turn on my heels, grab my purse and head out the door.
Living alone in a tiny rent-controlled apartment right outside downtown Seattle means a longer commute, but the trade-off for independence is worth it. Freedom always is. I lock my apartment door, walk down the precariously leveled exterior steps, skipping the one that dips a bit too much to the right, and walk towards the street. The sunrise peeks just behind a smear of grey clouds, creating a fresh but cool tide in the air. Two blocks later, I arrive to the bus station where I am greeted by the usual crowd of suspects—a few men in button-downs, slacks and dress shoes. Women in varying degrees of casual to professional attire. All entranced on their phones. Quiet, just like I like it.
Thirty minutes later, I get off the bus and into the downtown chaos. A cacophony of traffic blaring and a crowd of pedestrians in overdrive. I fall into their brisk rhythm and walk toward the glass monolith that houses Nanami & Yaga, LLP. Entering the marbled lobby, I greet the security desk and badge myself into the elevator bank. As I ride, I check the time on my phone and realize it’s 8:25, allowing me only five minutes until Kento expects his morning coffee.
Shit.
The elevator doors swoosh open. “Good morning!” I chirp to Utahime, the receptionist, as I rush past her, heading straight for the coffee station in the cafe on the main floor (where the alleged “good coffee” is.) Upon entering the cafe, one of my coworkers, Yuji, is about to put his order in.
“Wait!” I call out, reaching my arm towards him as if I can stop time. “Mr. Nanami...coffee,” I pant, now standing behind him.
Yuji’s warm brown eyes soften with sympathy as he steps aside. I punch in Kento’s usual cappuccino order at warp speed: double shot, heavy cream no sugar. The machine oozes at the pace of a dying snail. 8:28. Fuck, fuck, fuck! The machine drips the last drop and, in an instant, I’m balancing the cup and saucer scurrying down the hall towards the private elevator that leads to the executive floor. I rapidly jab the call button like my life depends on it. The chrome doors inch open, and I all but dive inside, miraculously not spilling a drop.
The moment those elevator doors open just enough, I rush off. Tossing my bag onto my desk that sits right outside Kento’s private corner office and nearly stumble inside. I glance at the clock on the wall: 8:30.
Thank God.
Kento’s office is a testament to his power and discipline. Floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the Space Needle and Lake Union. Diplomas, awards, and corporate tomes line one wall; the other boasts a leather couch, a globe, and a crystal decanter of whiskey that’s perpetually nearly empty. Didn’t I refill that Friday? No matter.
I muster all the effort I can to maintain a professional façade and calmly walk towards Kento’s large, mahogany desk where he is sitting and typing frantically.
“Good morning, Mr. Nanami,” I say brightly, holding out the steaming cup of coffee with a warm smile. “Your coffee, as usual.”
His eyes flicker up from his monitors, locking onto mine as he takes the coffee from my hands with a curt nod. I can’t say for certain, but I swear his gaze dips—just for a second—to my chest before snapping back to the screen.
“Schedule,” he says firmly, taking a sip, his eyes still firmly planted on the monitors.
I step back, tugging my jacket closed and mutter under my breath, “You could say please, you know…”
Luckily, the bus ride gives me enough time each morning to memorize his calendar—a ritual expected as his executive assistant. I clear my throat…
“Ahem. You have a meeting with legal at nine, followed by a conference call with the Tokyo office. Board meeting at 11:30, phone consultation at 1:30 with a potential new client…and…oh! Don’t forget your evening dinner reservations with Mr. Gojo.”
I grin, proud of my recital.
He sets his coffee down and taps his pen rapidly against the desk. The silence is long, too dragged out for my liking. My shoulders start to slump and my focus drifts to my nails. I really do need an appointment...
“Cancel dinner,” he commands. I nod, my focus is still drawn to my nails.
“And no more than an hour for lunch today,” he adds. “I need you to prep for tomorrow’s strategy meeting.”
My gaze lifts to his. A faint smirk curves his lips as he adds, “Please.”
Shit, he heard me!
I quickly drop my hands to my side and straighten up.
“O-of course, Mr. Nanami. I’ll make sure everything is set.”
“See that you do.”
With that, I dismiss myself from his office, the large, heavy door clicking shut behind me. I take a breath and walk to my desk. It’s small, but it’s mine. A little organized island of freedom in this corporate jungle. Before diving into my inbox hell, I steal a glance at Kento through the interior glass, watching as his large hands handle the coffee cup with such care.
I wonder what those hands would feel like on my…
No. Stop. Ew. Do not fantasize about your boss!
H-he probably has a girlfriend! O-or a wife…Or a mistress?
*********
After his conference call concludes, I hear Kento’s office door open and watch him approach me.
“Hey,” his voice is softer now, almost human. “Hold my calls?”
Not command this time. A request.
“Of course. I’ll cover everything,” I reply.
His lips twitch into what could be a smile. “I know you will.”