DON'T CALL ME SIR: THE BILLIONAIRE CEO I WAS SENT TO DESTROY

Rain ran down the glass walls of Blackwood Global Holdings like silver threads, blurring the New York skyline.

The silence in the forty-second floor lobby seemed heavier than any conversation could be. The employees hurried. No one remained. And no one laughed. Even the footfalls in heels were cautious, as if the building itself had rules no one dared to break.

The young receptionist looked at the digital clock over the security desk. 8:57 a.m. She glanced toward the private elevators.

"They say he axed somebody this morning already," she whispered.

Another receptionist hushed her voice. "Not fired.

She gulped. The left. "So early?

They lasted only three days.

The two women exchanged a helpless glance, then quickly pretended to work as executives hurried past.

The doors of the private elevator opened. Every conversation stopped. Down went every head. A tall man came out, not looking at anybody. His charcoal suit fit as if made for him that morning. His shoes made little or no sound on the marble floor. He was not smiling, no anger, just cold, total control.

Damien Blackwood. Chief Executive Officer. Founder. The man that all the business magazines cheered for. The boss everyone feared. "Good morning Mr. Blackwood" a few voices said all at once.

Damien didn't reply. He kept walking, his sharp eyes scanning the hallway until his gaze landed on a piece of paper, just a bit too far out near the wall. He paused. The whole hallway froze with him.

He bent down, picked it up and looked at the maintenance supervisor. "This goes in the recycling bin. He spoke in a calm voice, but it carried.

The supervisor came running. Sorry sir.

Damien gave him the paper. Sorry doesn't fix standards.

The man bowed his head down. "It will never happen again."

Damien walked away without saying another word. The hall was silent until the elevator doors closed behind him. Only then did all breathe again.

Top Floor. Executive Suite.

The office was more like a five-star hotel suite than a workplace: floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan, dark wood furniture, almost no decoration, everything perfectly in line. All but the empty desk just outside Damien's office. His assistant's desk. Again empty. No PC, no coffee cup, Owner: None.

Damien came in and dropped his briefcase. There was a neat stack of files waiting for him. Noah Brooks leaned against the bookshelf, coffee in hand, looking perfectly at ease, the only one in the building who ever did. "You scared off another one.

Damien took his jacket off without even looking up. 'If she couldn't cope with the workload, she wasn't the right one for it.'

Noah snorted. "Three assistants in a month.

"They've gone.

They got away.

That Damien did not care about. Noah shook his head and smiled. "You know, people are betting on it downstairs.

Damien raised an eyebrow. " 'Betting?' 'How long Assistant Number Four lasts.

I don't care.

"Yeah." Noah lowered himself into a leather chair. "That's the problem.

The room was still, except for the rustling of pages. Noah spoke again a second later. "Wonder why nobody ever sticks around?"

Damien signed more papers. "None.

"They're afraid of you."

"I'm their employer."

They think you're a machine.

"I demand competence."

"You want perfection.

At last Damien raised his head. "Should I lower the bar because people are uncomfortable?" Noah met his eyes. "No," he gave a faint smile. But maybe remember they are human.

Damien went back to his work, "humans are excuse makers."

Noah breathed. And that is exactly why that desk outside is getting emptier and emptier.

Damien was about to answer when there were three sharp knocks at the door.

He didn't glance up. "Come on in.

Sophia Grant came in with a folder, looking from the two men to the other. "Morning." Noah grinned. "Morning.

Damien continued reading. "What's it?"

Sophia placed the folder on his desk. "HR found someone else."

He didn't go near it. "No."

"No?" "I'll do it myself."

"That's what you always tell me.

I mean it this time.

She folded her arms. You have seventy-two meetings this week.

"I know.

"You're replying to your own email.

"Okay.

"You book your own flights.

Yea.

"You didn't eat lunch yesterday.

Finally he looked at her. I don't get your point.

""My point," she leaned in, "is that CEOs shouldn't be making their own dentist appointments.

Noah laughed into his coffee mug. Damien's face didn't change.

Sophia pushed the folder over to him. "Just interview her." "No." "Five minutes."

"Naw.

"Very highly recommended.

"I don't give a damn.

Sophia let out a sigh. "You haven't even seen her resume." "I don't have to."

She stared at him for a long time, and then gave up. "Okay. She took up the folder again, and turned for the door. Just before he reached it, "Leave it," said Damien.

Sophia halted. A smile flickered across her face. She put the folder down again and didn't look back. "No promises," Damien added. "I'll take it."

She walked out. The door clicked.

Noah looked amused. " "You sounded almost interested."

"I sounded reasonable." Noah smiled. "Sure you did."

All over Manhattan...

Emma Carter sat beside the hospital bed, holding her mother's hand. The room had a faint smell of medicine and fresh flowers. There was a soft hum of machines in the background.

Linda Carter smiled a little. You look tired.Emma was only smiling by force. "Fine," I said.

"You had to work late again?

I always do.

Linda gave her daughter's fingers a gentle squeeze. "You don't need to worry so much about me.

Emma let her eyes fall. I know." "You've always been too big.

Her smile disappeared. "I'll fix everything."

Linda reached up with trembling fingers and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Emma's ear. You always say that.

Because I mean it.

A nurse came in quietly with a clipboard. Sorry to interrupt.

Emma stood up. "That's okay."

The nurse gave a soft smile. "Can I speak to you outside a minute?"

Emma nodded and followed her to the hallway, which somehow felt colder than the room.

The next payment is due Friday," the nurse said softly.

Emma's heart pounded. "Yeah. The finance office asked me to remind you.

"I'll pay for it." "They're getting worried."

Emma looked out the little window at her mother's bed. "I told you I'd pay for it."

The nurse nodded, kindly. I believe you." Emma acknowledged her and walked away, stopping at the vending machines. Slowly she opened her purse. A couple of bills. A few stray coins. Nothing else.

She shut her eyes and tried to get her breath under control. Her phone vibrated.

BANK BALANCE: $247.13

Her fingers tightened around the phone, her knuckles white, as she stared at the screen. Another notification appeared.

Student Loan Payment Date

Emma laughed softly, not because anything was funny, but because it felt harder to cry in a hospital hallway than to laugh. She dabbed at her eyes. "You'll get it sorted," she whispered to herself. "Always.

The telephone rang. Unknown Number She stopped, and responded. "Hello?" "Miss Emma Carter?"

"Yup.

Sophia Grant from Blackwood Global Holdings, at your service."

Emma straightened up. "Yes, Miss Grant.

"We have reviewed your application. We'd like to invite you in for a final interview tomorrow morning."

Her eyes went wide. "Really?" "Nine o'clock."

"I'll be there."

"We'll send the details shortly."

"Thank you." "No," Sophia said, and Emma could hear the smile on her lips. "Thank you for applying."

The call ended. Emma looked at her phone for a second, then exhaled long and hard. Hope, small, fragile, but real.

She hurried back into her mother's room.

Linda looked up. "What's the matter?"

Emma could not conceal her smile any longer. I got an interview.

Linda's eyes sparkled. "The big company?" "Blackwood Global." Linda beamed. I told you,"

Emma laughed quietly. "What did he tell you?" "That someone would finally see how wonderful you are.

Emma turned away, a little shyly. "I hope I get it." "You will.

"You don't know that." "I do know." Linda squeezed her hand once more. "Because you're the strongest woman I know.

Emma blinked away tears. "I've got to make this happen."

You don't have to carry the whole world.

She smiled softly. "No, not so. She looked at the window. "But I've got to lug ours.

The next day.

Outside the enormous glass building, Emma looked up and up. The tower seemed to vanish into the clouds. She adjusted her handbag strap. "You can do this. A deep breath. Another. She went through the revolving doors.

The marble lobby shimmered with crystal lights. People in expensive suits walked across the floor like they owned it. Suddenly Emma was very aware of her plain navy blazer, not embarrassed, just anxious.

She approached the front desk. "Morning."

The receptionist gave a polite smile. "Name?" "Emma Carter."

The receptionist's face changed, just a little. "Oh..." Emma frowned. "Something wrong?" "Nothing," the woman said, handing over a visitor's badge, with a forced smile. "HR is waiting for you."

Thank you." Emma headed toward the elevators. Nearby two employees were whispering. 'Another one?' 'She looks nice.

"I feel kind of bad for her."

"Week, you think she'll make it?

Emma relaxed back. Was it her they talked about? Before she could figure anything out the private elevator opened. A tall man stepped out and did not look around, and the whole floor fell silent. Emma moved aside.

As he walked by, an employee's files fell from her arms and spilled across the floor. She came to a dead stop. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Blackwood.

He halted. He said nothing, but bent down and took the nearest file, squared its edges and put it back.

"Next time," he said. His voice was calm and even. "Hold it properly before you get off the elevator.

"Yes, sir." He kept walking. No yelling , no insults. And somehow the silence that followed was heavier than either of them would have liked.

Emma watched him go down the hall. So that was Damien Blackwood. The man that the whole city seemed to be afraid of. Something about his eyes stuck with her. Why, she didn't know. Not cool. Not the force. For just a moment she thought she saw a flicker of exhaustion in their eyes.

She brushed the thought aside.

'Miss Carter?' An HR assistant smiled at her. "Right this way."

Emma nodded and followed. Neither of them noticed the security monitor upstairs, where Damien glanced at the live lobby feed while signing documents in his office. His hand hesitated. His eyes found the woman following HR down the hall.

Stance of calm. Plainclothes. No panic. No rush. She looked...solid.

He glanced a second longer than he'd intended, then spoke without looking up from the screen. "Noah."

Noah looked up from the sofa. "What?" Damien pointed at the monitor. "The interviewee.

Noah got up and looked. "The dark-haired one?

'What about her?

Damien did not say anything. Her expression troubled him somehow, not because she looked afraid, but because she didn't. He tapped his fingers once on the desk. Then he ordered something that surprised even himself. "Bring her to my office first."

Noah whirled around. "You've never interviewed an assistant yourself."

I get it. Damien narrowed his eyes, but kept them on the screen. She's, I don't know. I think she's different.

(Emma stood before the huge black doors outside the CEO's office not knowing the man she'd come to work for had already been watching her -- and that one decision in the next few minutes was about to quietly change both their lives forever.)