Chapter 1 Falling For My Boss

RYAN'S POV

The taxi's brakes squealed softly as it came to a halt outside the towering glass structure that was the Sterling & Associates building. I handed the driver his fare, my fingers briefly trembling-not from nervousness, but from the anticipation that had been building in my chest since I woke up this morning. Grabbing my leather briefcase firmly, I stepped onto the polished concrete sidewalk, the morning sun casting long shadows across the bustling street.

The Sterling & Associates headquarters stretched thirty-two floors into the Chicago sky, its reflective windows catching the early light like a thousand mirrors. Each morning when I approached this architectural marvel, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of pride and intimidation. Two months ago, this building represented nothing more than a distant dream-a place where important people in expensive suits made decisions that shaped the business world. Now, it was where I earned my living, where I'd found purpose, and most importantly, where she worked.

I walked with measured confidence toward the main entrance, my black polished Oxford shoes clicking rhythmically against the pavement. The sound echoed off the surrounding buildings, creating a steady beat that matched my heartrate. My reflection caught in the building's glass doors-black tailored trousers that fit perfectly, a crisp blue dress shirt that I'd ironed twice this morning, and a burgundy tie that my sister Sarah had insisted would bring out my eyes. The entire outfit was completed by my father's old watch, a silver piece that had somehow survived two generations of wear.

The truth was, I despised wearing formal attire. The stiff collar felt like a gentle stranglehold around my neck, and the layers of fabric trapped heat against my naturally warm skin. My colleagues often complimented my professional appearance, but they had no idea how uncomfortable I felt beneath the polished exterior. Especially during Chicago's humid summer months, when the muggy air seemed to seep through every fiber, making each day feel like I was wearing a portable sauna. But appearances mattered in the corporate world, and I'd learned to endure the discomfort for the sake of my career.

The lobby's marble floors gleamed under the soft lighting as I made my way to the elevator bank. The familiar ding announced the arrival of my ride to the fourteenth floor, where my small corner of this corporate empire awaited. As the elevator climbed steadily upward, I watched the numbers change, each floor bringing me closer to another day in the office-and closer to her.

I had joined Sterling & Associates exactly two months and three days ago as an assistant secretary, a position that had seemed like a stepping stone when I'd first accepted it. The work itself was demanding but rewarding; I prided myself on my efficiency and attention to detail. My supervisor had already mentioned the possibility of advancement, and I threw myself into every task with the enthusiasm of someone who genuinely cared about doing quality work.

But if I was being completely honest with myself, the job had become secondary to something else entirely-someone else entirely.

Her name is Victoria Sterling, and she is the company's head of operations, my direct supervisor, and the woman who had unknowingly captured every wandering thought I'd had since my first day. There was something about her presence that transformed the sterile office environment into something warmer, more vibrant. When she entered a room, conversations seemed more meaningful, problems appeared more solvable, and even the fluorescent lighting seemed less harsh.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and I stepped into the familiar hallway that led to our department. The morning routine was always the same-a brief walk past the conference rooms, a nod to the security guard, and then through the glass doors that separated our section from the rest of the floor.

"Good morning, Ryan!" Laura's voice rang out the moment I crossed the threshold. She was already at her desk, her computer screen glowing with what appeared to be spreadsheet data, but her attention was entirely focused on me. Her smile was radiant, the kind that reached her eyes and seemed to light up her entire face.

I paused, shifting my briefcase to my left hand so I could offer a proper wave. "Morning, Laura. I hope you're having a good start to your day." My response was warm but measured-friendly enough to maintain our working relationship, but careful not to encourage what I suspected were her romantic interests.

She nodded enthusiastically, her dark hair catching the overhead lights as she moved. "I'm doing wonderfully, thank you for asking." There was something in her tone, a musical quality that suggested she was genuinely pleased to see me. After a moment, she reluctantly turned her attention back to her computer screen, though I caught her stealing glances in my direction.

Since my first week at Sterling & Associates, I'd become increasingly aware of Laura's attempts to build a closer relationship with me. It wasn't anything inappropriate-she was far too professional for that-but there were subtle signs that were impossible to ignore. The way she volunteered to help with my projects even when her own workload was heavy. The way she remembered small details about my preferences, like how I took my coffee or which lunch spot I favored. The way her entire demeanor seemed to brighten whenever I entered the room.

Under different circumstances, I might have been flattered, perhaps even interested. Laura was undeniably attractive, intelligent, and kind-hearted. Any reasonable person would consider themselves fortunate to have caught her attention. But my heart had already made its choice, as inconvenient and complicated as that choice happened to be.

"Morning, Jake," I called out to the young man stationed at the desk adjacent to Laura's. He looked up from his paperwork and returned the greeting with a casual wave before diving back into his work. Jake was one of those naturally focused individuals who could lose himself in data analysis for hours at a time, emerging only when absolutely necessary.

I made my way to my desk, a modest workstation positioned strategically in the corner where I could observe the office dynamics while maintaining some privacy. Setting my briefcase down with a soft thud, I settled into my swivel chair and took a moment to center myself. This was my daily ritual-a few seconds of quiet reflection before diving into the day's responsibilities.

Closing my eyes, I whispered a brief prayer of gratitude for the opportunity to work, for my health, and for the chance to grow both professionally and personally. It was a habit I'd developed during college, a way of grounding myself before facing whatever challenges lay ahead.

"You have a habit of arriving fashionably late, don't you?"

The voice was unmistakable-smooth, confident, with just a hint of teasing humor. My eyes snapped open, and I found myself looking directly into the face that had been occupying my thoughts for weeks.

Victoria Sterling stood beside my desk, her arms crossed but her expression more amused than disapproving. She was wearing a charcoal gray blazer over a white blouse, her platinum blonde hair pulled back in a style that was both professional and elegant. Everything about her radiated competence and grace, from her perfectly applied makeup to her confident posture.

"Ma'am," I began, rising quickly from my chair out of respect, "I apologize if I'm cutting it close. I'll make sure to arrive earlier tomorrow."

She raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Relax, Ryan. You're actually right on time. I was just making an observation." Her ice-blue eyes sparkled with something that might have been mischief. "Though I have noticed you tend to arrive at precisely 8:59 AM. Very consistent."

The fact that she'd been paying attention to my arrival times sent a flutter through my chest that I tried desperately to suppress. "I suppose I like to maximize my morning routine," I replied, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt.

"Well, your punctuality is noted and appreciated," she said, her tone shifting back to professional mode. "I have several items I'd like to discuss with you this morning. Are you ready to dive into the day?"

"Absolutely, Ma'am. I'm at your service."

As she walked back toward her office, I couldn't help but watch the confident way she moved, the subtle grace in every step. This was my reality-spending eight hours a day in close proximity to the woman who had somehow become the center of my universe, maintaining professional boundaries while my heart quietly rebelled against every "Ma'am" and "Miss Sterling" that left my lips.

Someday, I told myself, maybe I'd find the courage to call her something else. Something warmer, more personal. Something that reflected how I truly felt.

But for now, I had work to do.