Chapter 6 Is She a Robot?

~Kael

My assistant resigned at exactly 7:12 a.m.

What are the odds?

No notice. No transition plan. Just a neat email that ended with I wish the company continued success.

I stared at the screen until the words actually blurred, then shut my laptop with a slam, harder than necessary.

It just has to be today of all days.

Just when the board wanted revised numbers, investors were circling, and legals had sent three flagged contracts before nine. My schedule wasn't just tight— it was suffocating.

And she just walked out.

I pressed the intercom with more force than needed. “Ethan, get in. Now."

He arrived quickly, but not relaxed. Ethan has worked with me long enough to read the air. He stepped inside tentatively and closed the door carefully.

“She's gone," I said, my voice cold as it delivered the right tension.

Ethan tensed instantly, “I know."

“Well then, find someone."

His jaw flexed slightly. “No one wants the position, Sir."

A slow throb ached in my temple, I was beyond irritated. “This isn't a volunteer program."

“I…it's not that simple," he said carefully. “Everyone knows how demanding this… office is. They think—”

"I don't care what they think.” My voice rose slightly, the words coming out sharper than I intended, but I didn't take them back.

Silence pressed between us, as I watched the wheels turn in his head.

"We… have internal evaluations from last week," Ethan continued. “There's a new clerk. Highest score across the board. Efficient and there were no disciplinary flags."

“Experience?"

“Minimal. But she's sharp."

I gave him a look. Sharp?

"She's also not politically aligned with anyone here,” he added. "That could help.”

I rubbed my temple. That mattered more than experience.

"Fine,” I said. "Send her.”

He hesitated, "uhmm, she'll need compensation adjustment."

“Triple it," I said, already done with the conversation.

But then, Ethan blinked. “But… that will draw attention."

“Then let it."

He nodded once, but I could see it in his eyes, the calculation. If she failed, it would be on him.

Good.

“Send her in ten minutes," I said.

When he left, I moved to the glass wall overlooking the main floor below. My office was intentionally designed this way. I could see everything, but they saw nothing.

Control mattered.

I watched as Ethan approached a desk. She looked surprised as they spoke briefly. I saw her straighten slowly, pulling her shoulders back like she was bracing for impact.

She followed him toward the elevator in a controlled stride.

Halfway down the corridor, her heel caught the edge of the floor rug and she stumbled.

Not dramatically, but enough and Ethan grabbed her arm instantly to steady her.

My jaw tightened.

Unbelievable.

If she couldn't manage a hallway under pressure—

She readjusted quickly, though. Nodded slightly at Ethan as if dismissing it. Her spine straightened once again and she lifted her chin.

Interesting.

A knock sounded as they reached my door.

“Enter."

She walked in alone and the first thing I noticed wasn't her face. It was the tension surrounding her.

So present and thick, I could drag my claws over it.

Her fingers were wrapped tightly around a tablet with my company logo on it. Her knuckles were pale, and her lips were pressed together just a little bit too hard.

When she lifted her eyes to meet mine, she held the contact. But it looked forced, like she was putting in so much effort not to look away.

I scoffed internally. Great. She looked like a frightened bunny.

I remained standing behind my desk. “You're being reassigned," I said.

She nodded, but that oddly didn't sit right with me. I wanted her voice. “Words."

She began, almost nodding again, but caught herself before she spoke, “Yes, sir."

Her voice was, soft, but steady. Almost.

Up close I could see the faint tremor she was suppressing. The slight shift of her weight from one foot to the other. The way her thumb brushed once over the edge of the tablet, as if she needed something to stabilize herself.

And it irritated me that she was this squirmy.

“You'll be managing my schedule," I continued. “Filtering calls, handling correspondence, coordinating meetings. You speak only when necessary. Not before."

She nodded before adding a tiny yes.

“You do not guess or assume. If you're unsure, you ask. Privately."

“Yes sir." Her eyes flickered up for a second before snapping back down.

Why was she trying so hard?

“Punctuality is non-negotiable. If I request something, it is done immediately. If you make a mistake, you correct it before it reaches my desk."

A faint breath passed through her lips in a controlled sigh. Or was it a gasp? Then her jaw tightened slightly, like she was biting back nerves.

Still, she held eye contact.

I stepped around the desk slowly. Up close, the tension was clearer and something in me stirred. Her shoulders were squared but rigid, and her breathing was just a touch too shallow.

Most people avoided looking at me directly or feared being in my presence.

But she. She was looking, and failing. Yet she continued.

It was strange, but I continued.

“You will not challenge me in front of staff," I said. “You will not create delays. And I do not repeat instructions."

“Yes, sir." The response came faster this time.

I studied her for a long second. She wasn't weak, but also not confident either.

And I don’t like such unpredictability and variables I hadn't calculated.

But yet, there was something about her refusal to lower her gaze that irritated me more than if she did.

"You understand this is not a comfortable position,” I tested.

"Yes.”

"And yet you accepted.”

There was a small pause, then—

"Yes.”

No further explanation or statement. Is she a robot or something?

I grunted finally, “Your workstation is directly outside this office. That is your new office. If I call, you respond immediately.”

She nodded, still standing.

I furrowed my brows. "Go."

The sharpness of my tone startled her and she hesitated for a second in confusion before bowing politely and turning for the door.

As she walked to the door, I noticed her fingers flex once like she was releasing the tension she'd been holding the entire time.

She walked back into the hallway and took a seat directly outside my glass wall.

From here, I could see her clearly. Even when she exhaled slowly before opening her tablet.

Then she began working, not once looking up from that device. Too focused.

I folded my arms, my irritation filling the whole office.

She's weird, and for some reason I couldn't define— intriguing.