Welcome to the Lion’s Den

The elevator doors slid open with a muted chime, revealing the 45th floor of Drake Global—polished, silent, and intimidatingly pristine. Elena Rivera stepped out, her spine straightened like steel, though her insides twisted with anxiety. She’d worn her best blouse, ironed the creases out of her pants, and pulled her hair into a tight, neat bun. Still, she felt out of place.

She shouldn’t have been here. She wasn’t Ivy League. She wasn’t corporate-polished. But she was desperate and that, apparently, was enough for Adrian Drake.

Claudia, his terrifyingly efficient assistant, was already waiting by her desk.

“You’re late,” Claudia said without looking up from her tablet.

“It’s 6:58,” Elena replied, checking her own watch.

Claudia finally looked at her. “Mr. Drake considers punctuality arriving ten minutes early. Not two minutes before.”

Elena bit her tongue and nodded. “Understood.”

“Follow me.” They moved briskly through the open-plan office, past clean glass conference rooms, and employees who looked like they were born in business attire. Elena saw a familiar face—James, the IT guy she’d tripped over yesterday during the infamous coffee spill. He gave her a sheepish smile, which she returned with a silent, grateful nod.

Claudia stopped at a frosted glass door. “Mr. Drake wants to see you. Now.”

Elena inhaled sharply. Day one, and she was already being summoned.

She entered the office.

Adrian Drake stood behind his desk, dressed in another immaculate suit charcoal again, with a slate-blue tie that matched his eyes. He didn’t greet her immediately. Instead, he finished typing something, then looked up.

“Miss Rivera,” he said smoothly. “Close the door.”

She obeyed.

He gestured to a chair. “Sit.”

She did.

“I’ve reviewed your file,” he began. “Your work history, financials, education or rather, lack of completion. You’re resourceful. You adapt fast. But your background makes you... unpredictable.”

“Is that a problem?” Elena asked carefully.

“That depends,” he said, folding his hands. “This office thrives on control. Stability. You, Miss Rivera, bring chaos.”

She straightened her back. “Then why hire me?” Adrian studied her, his gaze intense. “Because sometimes, chaos disrupts comfort zones. That can be... useful.”

Elena wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a threat.

He stood and walked to the window, looking down at Manhattan like he owned it. Maybe he did.

“I want you to shadow Claudia this week. Learn our systems. Listen more than you speak. Make one mistake, and you’re out.”

“Understood.”

“One more thing,” he added. “You’ll be joining me at tonight’s charity gala at the Langford.”

Her mouth opened slightly. “I what? As what?”

“My assistant. Claudia has a family emergency. You’ll step in.”

“But I don’t know anything about”

“You’ll learn. Fast.”

Elena exhaled. “Okay. I’ll need something to wear.”

He pressed a button on his intercom. “Arrange a stylist for Miss Rivera. Have something appropriate delivered to the office within the hour.”

“Yes, Mr. Drake,” came the reply.

He looked back at Elena. “Welcome to the lion’s den.”

By 6 p.m., Elena barely recognized herself. The stylist had arrived like a storm—measuring, fitting, painting, sculpting her into someone who looked like she belonged beside a billionaire. Her dress was black silk, simple but sleek, with an open back and a slit up one leg. Her heels were borrowed confidence. Her makeup was immaculate. Her nerves? Shot.

“Stop fidgeting,” Claudia snapped, adjusting the clasp on her clutch. “You’re his assistant. Not his date. Don’t speak unless spoken to, and don’t leave his side.”

“Got it,” Elena murmured, swallowing her fear.

Outside, a black car waited. Adrian stood by it, in a tuxedo that somehow made him look more dangerous. He offered his arm, and after the briefest hesitation, Elena took it.

The ride to the Langford was silent but electric.

“Don’t let them intimidate you,” Adrian said at last. “They’re all vultures in tailored suits. Smile, nod, and remember: we’re the ones with teeth.”

She smirked. “So I’m not the only one who bites.”

His lips curved. “You’ll survive this.”

They stepped out at the Langford to a flash of cameras and murmurs. Elena’s stomach flipped.

Inside, the ballroom shimmered with chandeliers, crystal, and old money. Waiters floated past with trays of champagne. Classical music played in the background, elegant and distant.

Adrian moved like he owned the room. Elena stuck close, watching, absorbing. She greeted board members, shook hands with donors, and smiled through conversations about hedge funds she barely understood.

Then, it happened.

“Adrian.” A sultry voice cut through the air like a blade.

Elena turned to see a woman approaching—a goddess in red. Long legs, sharp cheekbones, and eyes that held amusement and threat in equal measure.

“Cassandra,” Adrian said, his voice cool.

“Elena,” she said, turning to her. “And who is this charming little accessory?”

Adrian’s jaw ticked. “My assistant.”

“Oh,” Cassandra cooed. “You don’t usually bring your assistants to galas. Unless they’re... extracurricular.”

Elena’s face flushed, but she held her ground. “Nice to meet you.”

Cassandra leaned in, her voice soft but venomous. “Sweetheart, try not to drown in waters you weren’t born to swim in.”

“Elena doesn’t drown,” Adrian cut in. “She learns how to breathe underwater.”

Cassandra arched a brow, but her smile faltered.

Victory.

The evening continued, but tension brewed. Elena felt it—something was wrong. Adrian's shoulders stiffened. His smile grew colder.

Just past midnight, he pulled her aside.

“Change of plans. We’re leaving. Now.”

“What happened?”

“I’ll explain in the car.”

In the backseat, silence stretched until Adrian finally spoke.

“Someone leaked internal documents to the press. Numbers, names, confidential reports. Tonight’s gala was supposed to distract from that. Instead, Cassandra brought the press here.”

Elena blinked. “Wait Cassandra leaked your files?”

“I can’t prove it,” he said, jaw clenched. “But the timing isn’t a coincidence. She’s been trying to tank my reputation since we ended things.”

Elena was quiet, then: “Why did you end it?”

He looked at her, eyes unreadable. “Because I don’t trust people who smile while planning your downfall.”

The air turned heavy.

Back at his building, he turned to her before she exited the car.

“Tomorrow will be hell. They’ll come after me and anyone close to me.”

Elena hesitated. “Should I back out?”

His eyes locked on hers. “No. Now’s when I need someone I can’t buy.”

And with that, he left her with a choice.

Stay in the lion’s den…

Or become a lion herself.