Chapter Text
It’s 6:15 a.m. when your alarm clock starts screeching on your bedside table. With a groan, you reach a hand to turn it off, missing a few times.
You sit up painstakingly and yawn.
The weekend went by in a flash again. You shouldn’t sleep so late on your precious days off.
“Alexa,” you mutter to the device on your coffee table with a stuffy, sleepy voice. “Play Playlist 3.”
As the slow, peaceful jazz fills the room, you wander around your studio apartment and pull aside the heavy curtains to let in some sunshine. Jazz always makes Monday mornings a bit more bearable.
Despite having lived here for almost a year, you’re still not used to the view from the 21st floor. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs with a brief moment of vertigo. You never liked heights much.
You feel a slight headache as you wander past the small corner where you have your couch and TV, to the compact but modern kitchen.
It must be the wine you had well into last night.
You prepare a proper breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and tangerines and eat by your tiny, two-seat table. You look outside absent-mindedly, of the neighbouring skyscrapers and ant-sized cars down below.
It’s 6:45 as you load your dishes in the dishwasher and carelessly toss the frying pan in the sink. You’ll wash it later. The ridiculous tidiness requirements at work are enough for you. At home, you thoroughly enjoy being as much of a slob as you want.
You hop in the shower and sigh as the warm spray of water falls on you. As you scrub your hair clean, you recap the schedule for the day in your mind.
You step out and dry your hair with a blow-dryer right away before pulling it on a tight, high ponytail. You trim your eyebrows and walk to your wardrobe wearing nothing but your towel.
You pull on nude stockings, a sharp, black pencil skirt and a white, neatly ironed button-up shirt. Your regular work attire.
A tooth-brushing and a thin layer of natural-looking make-up later, you’re ready for work. You pull on a thin jacket and a pair of heels, carelessly throw your phone in your purse and double-check you’ve got everything you need.
One last glance in the large, full-body mirror in the hallway to make sure you look presentable, and you’re out of the door at 7:40 sharp. The clacking sound of your heels echoes in the hallway as you make your way to the elevator.
You yawn and stretch as the elevator rolls down to the basement floor. You grab your car keys from your bag as you arrive to the underground parking lot. You walk up to your car and unlock the doors.
As soon as you’ve sat inside your fresh-smelling, squeaky clean car, your phone starts ringing in your purse.
You use the Bluetooth-equipped touch screen that's attached to the car stereo to pick up the phone call. It’s made your life a lot easier since you no longer need to fumble with a hands-free. The Chairman tends to complain if you take more than four dial tones to answer.
“Manager, good morning,” you greet politely as you start the car.
“Morning,” Mike Zacharias’ staticky voice rings back from your car’s speakers. “Hope your weekend was great. I’ll get straight to the point, I need a favour.”
“Don’t we always,” you sigh. “What is it?”
“The Chairman fired his driver.”
“Again? Why am I not surprised,” you mumble so quiet Mike doesn’t hear you, and roll your eyes. “What did this one do?”
“Smelt too much of sweat,” Mike informs you. “You need to pick up the Chairman today.”
You blow an unimpressed raspberry and reach for your glove box. You take out some air freshener and spray the car thoroughly.
“There goes my plan of grabbing some coffee on the way,” you mutter. The Chairman can’t stand eating or drinking in cars. He finds the threat of spillage too imminent. “Fine. Let him know I’ll be there in about 15, depending on the traffic.”
“Thanks, Reader,” Mike replies and hangs up. You look around the car once more to confirm the legroom in the backseat is free of any and all items and that there are no dust, stains or crumbles on the seats. You turn on the radio and select a station dedicated entirely to classical music. The Chairman likes instrumental tunes the best.
You then drive out of the parking lot, waving at the security guard as you pass by his booth.
It’s been five years since you started working for The Ackerman Corporation. What started off as a small, independent software firm has grown into a multibillion-dollar cybersecurity business under its last two chairmen. Kenny Ackerman, the former chairman, made the company go through a rapid growth spurt in the 90s and 2000s when viruses and computer contamination first became a pressing issue, and after retiring abruptly in his 50s and handing down his position to his nephew, the growth has remained consistent.
Even despite your impressive track record in university, you must have also done a lot right during your career with The Ackerman Corp. After two mere years as an entry-level employee, you were handpicked by the Chairman to be his secretary and personal assistant, after attending a couple meetings in his presence.
You never asked him why. You just took what you could. The salary is more than what you could hope for at your age and experience. The health and retirement plans are also impeccable. Plus, you were aware that the Chairman uses somehow unconventional metrics in his recruitment processes. Thus, no one was too surprised when he picked a complete novice. What no one, including yourself, expected was to last this long in your position.
For whatever reason, you’ve managed to hold your position a record time. Usually, the Chairman fires whoever is directly responsible for his comfort at least once a year, and the few he doesn’t have always quit on their own before two years is up.
You stop in front of the Chairman’s apartment building. It’s even taller than yours, heavily guarded and only has important-looking people walking through the doors.
Even though your car is brand new and not by any means cheap, it still sticks out like a sore thumb.
A couple of minutes later, the Chairman marches out, looking as displeased as always. His expensive suit and tie are ironed to silky smooth, completely void of wrinkles. His shoes are polished so thoroughly they’re shining in the sunlight and his neatly cut hair is styled perfectly with not one strand out of place. Levi Ackerman, the head of The Ackerman Corporation. Your boss.
He hops to the backseat before you have the chance to get out and open the door for him. He slams the door closed after himself and snorts to himself.
“Morning, sir,” you greet him and wait until he’s fastened his seat belt before you start driving towards the Ackerman Office.
From the rear-view mirror, you can see his dark eyes humour you with a brief glance, as a reply to your greeting. You know that’s more than most people could hope for, but that doesn’t keep you from rolling your eyes as inconspicuously as possible. Always so blunt, always so rude and always blatantly uninterested in anyone’s comfort but his own.
“Schedule,” he orders simply.
“Meeting with the Human Resources team at 9:20. The Microsoft executive has informed us that he’ll phone around 11 regarding the possible deal. Your father has requested a lunch meeting-“
“Decline,” Levi cuts in without missing a beat.
“Sir, you’ve declined all meetings with your father for a month now,” you point out. “He’s getting agitated.” You have no idea what the feud is about between Levi and his father, but it’s been going on for quite some time. Levi rejects all invitations to meet.
The violin concerto in the background changes to an opera aria.
“And I’ll continue to do so until he gets the hint,” Levi replies steadily and doesn’t as much as detach his eyes from the window. “Next.”
“The rest of the day is free save for an online meeting with the overseas sales team at 17:30,“ you finish.
Levi clicks his tongue without further comment. You drive quietly for a while, and every time you glance at the rear-view mirror, his frown has deepened.
“Turn off this insufferable screeching,” he finally snaps. You obediently turn off the radio, unaffected by his tone of voice. You’re used to him barking commands when he’s in a foul mood.
“Not much for high culture, sir?” you ask, well-mannered but cool. A jab so slight you can get away with it undetected.
“I hate opera,” comes the straightforward response. You shrug. As you drive, you follow the speed limits religiously. You know President Ackerman is very particular about obeying traffic regulations.
Arriving at the office building, you halt in front of the large skyscraper. A valet hurries to the car and blinks when he sees Levi inside. The Chairman usually arrives in a limousine. He opens the back door, and Levi climbs out without a word.
You grab Levi’s suitcase from the back seat, step out and allow the valet to get inside and park the vehicle for you. Usually, you would park by yourself in the employee section, but today you’re in Levi’s company.
You follow him inside. The receptionist wishes Levi good morning to no response as you walk past her to the elevators. You swipe your key card and select the top floor.
“Did you get a new perfume?” Levi suddenly asks. You blink.
“I don’t think so. If anything, I think I forgot to put on perfume today,” you admit, a little taken aback. Levi thinks it over for a moment.
“It’s better than usual,” he finally comments bluntly, just as you step out of the elevator. You raise an eyebrow.
“I see,” you reply, making a point of not thanking him for complimenting your smell of all things. Not that he cares, he’s already disregarded the conversation as not worthy of continuing and started making his way to his office.
Were this any other person, you would probably complain to Historia Reiss of Human Resources about inappropriate conduct, but it’s the Chairman you’re speaking of.
He always does and says whatever suits him, and you know there’s no hidden, creepy meaning to his words. He’s just very particular about smells. And aesthetics. And audio. Everything, basically.
Which is why his assistant turnover rate is almost as high as this skyscraper. You, however, have long since learnt to put up with it.
You walk after Levi into his wide, sterile office. Levi marches to his desk and sits down with a huff. He crosses his legs and leans back on the chair, giving the room an all-too-familiar look-around to make sure everything’s been cleaned overnight just as he instructed.
The leather couch and armchairs in the corner have been scrubbed and oiled as ordered. The glass table has been polished. The mini bar has been stocked. Everything on his desk, down to every single pen, has been arranged in a particular order.
The huge glass wall behind him that oversees the busy city center is completely smudge-free. The sun is already up and shining bright.
Levi’s eyes pause, and when you walk to the desk to set down his suitcase, you see he’s watching a teapot with an unreadable expression. Placing a teapot on the desk is not a part of the cleaning instructions.
“Who made this tea?” he asks sharply. You tilt your head a little. Usually, you’re the one who makes Levi’s morning tea.
“I don’t know, sir. Could be Intern Arlert,” you make an educated guess. The new kid. Super motivated and hellbent on being nice to everyone. A usually futile struggle when it comes to the Chairman.
Levi clicks his tongue.
“It’s cold already. Throw it out and make a fresh batch.”
You take the pot carefully and peek inside. The tea is still steaming and smells delicious.
“Sir, I think it’s still-”
“I didn’t stutter, Assistant Reader,” Levi cuts in, displeased. “New tea. Ginger White.”
You sigh a little, like a mother witnessing their child throwing a temper tantrum.
“Yes, sir,” you hum and walk out of the office. You make your way through the small reception area that only consists of your desk, a coat rack and an armchair.
The hallway is polished, lined with a collection of expensive maple doors leading to the offices of everyone who works in this floor. You can hear the steady sound of typing, ringing phones and printing machines from inside most of the offices.
As you walk into the break room, you almost crash into Armin Arlert, who’s just about to exit with a cup of coffee.
“Oh, Assistant Reader,” he blinks. “Good morning!”
Armin is a new intern. Officially, he works under Technical Manager Zoë, but it’s obvious he’s also hoping to get on Levi’s good side. To be fair, he’s exceedingly nice and courteous to everyone, it’s not like he’s doing it to climb the ladder.
Armin sees the teapot in your hands and frowns in confusion.
“Is there something wrong with the tea?” he asks. You give him a consoling pat on the shoulder.
“The Chairman feels like Ginger White today. Sorry,” you hum and walk to the sink. You start preparing a new batch, ignoring the way you can feel Armin’s eyes on your back. The break room is, as usual, spotless. The long dining table, coffee maker, fridge and induction cooktop are all carefully scrubbed.
Levi has ordered the whole floor to be cleaned every single night.
“Oh… I made some for Manager Zoë and thought I could make some for the Chairman as well,” Armin replies, a little disappointed.
“Don’t look into it too much. The Chairman is very particular about a lot of things,” you console him. You put in the tea leaves and turn to face Armin. His blonde hair, bright blue eyes and brown suit that looks just a bit too big on him. Fresh out of college and hoping his internship will turn into fulltime employment, he looks the part perfectly. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and smiles insecurely.
“So I’ve heard,” he confesses. “I also heard that you’ve worked as the Chairman’s assistant for longer than anyone before you.”
You make a non-committal noise.
“I’m just curious. Why did so many people quit?”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Are you trying to get me to gossip, Arlert?” you ask, amused. He instantly blushes and waves both of his hands to deny it.
“No! I would never want to gossip about the Chairman. It’s just that I’ve heard lower level employees never get a chance to talk with him aside from you and I was wondering what kind of person he is. That’s all.”
“What kind of person…” you trail off and muse quietly for a moment.
“A fussy nagger with very little patience, whose only interest is the bottom line?” you offer with a shrug. Levi wants things his way, he doesn’t care about other people’s feelings and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile.
“Oh.” Armin drops his gaze. You look over his defeated face and know what the disappointment is about. Among the company, Levi is notoriously absent from company-wide gatherings and meetings. He only deals with people high up the ladder, he never deems visiting the regular employees worth the effort. He never agrees to interviews or media appearances.
All that has made him into kind of a myth. Gossip and rumours regarding his personality and business practices routinely circle the office corridors, only fuelled whenever he fires a personal assistant or has someone quit on him.
“But you’ve worked as his assistant for longer than anyone before you, right?” Armin asks curiously. You nod nonchalantly. That’s true. Maybe you’re more patient than most.
“Are… Are you and the Chairman possibly-“
“Stop that right there,” you tell him and make a sour face. You shudder at the thought of having to deal with his grumpy, eccentric personality not only Monday to Friday 8 to 6, but evenings and weekends at well. The mere thought is enough to give you a headache.
You look over Armin. He doesn’t look like he’s asking to be a gossip, he’s just the kind of person who naturally inquires about whatever catches his interest. It’s not a bad thing. In many aspects, knowledge is power.
It’s not the first time someone’s asked that, directly or indirectly. A lot of people have mistaken your patience for his ridiculous demands as romantic affection. But that’s far from the truth. You merely stomach the Chairman better than most, and vice versa. He seems less routinely irritated with you than he does with the rest of his employees.
You finish brewing the tea and give Armin a small smile as you pass by him.
“Just keep your head low and try not to get in the Chairman’s way too much. It would be a shame if he fired you.” Despite your light tone of voice, you’re conveying a genuine warning. Levi does not like people barging into his personal space or doing things he hasn’t asked for.
Armin nods, he understands the implication loud and clear.
"Thanks. I'll try my best."
"Atta boy," you chirp and set course towards Levi's office.
You walk in just to witness Levi in the middle of an argument.
“No,“ he snaps tensely into his cell phone. “I don’t care if it’s tradition, I’m not going to tie myself to some annoying-”
He’s cut off and whatever the person in the other end is saying, it makes him narrow his eyes angrily.
“That’s rich, coming from you,” he points out with a chilly tone. “I don’t care what you want, old man. Stop sending me those pictures or I’ll block your e-mail. I’m not interested.”
With that, Levi hangs up and chucks the phone on the desk. There’s a dark cloud over his head when he turns his eyes to you.
“Tea,” he orders curtly. You walk to the desk and pour him a cup of Ginger White. He takes it without a word, in his signature way of holding the cup from above, and sips. He rolls the tea around in his mouth for a second before letting out his customary grunt of approval and taking another sip.
You leave Levi with his tea and start making your way to the door. You have an entire weekend’s worth of unread mails and missed calls to sort through.
“Assistant Reader.”
Levi’s voice is thoughtful.
“Sir?” You turn. He’s turned his expensive, leather-coated office chair around and is now facing the window with his tea cup.
“Have you ever thought about marriage?” he asks.
You raise an eyebrow at his back. So that’s what the phone call was about.
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding your father, sir? Because he keeps pushing you to marry?”
“Answer the question, Assistant,” he orders. You think it over and shrug.
“I guess I would like to marry one day, sir,” you answer truthfully, a little confused.
“Is that what most normal people desire? Tying themselves to another person?” Levi still hasn’t turned to face you but from the tone of his voice alone you can tell that he’s puzzled. To be honest, you can’t imagine him marrying anyone.
“I suppose so."
“Why?”
“There are many reasons. Some do it for money, some do it for security. It’s reassuring that there’s someone to care for you during your weak moments. Some do it for children, some for political gain-“
“Those sound like stupid reasons. Don’t you think so?”
“No, sir, I don’t,” you counter. One thing you’ve learned about the Chairman is that during discussions like these, he doesn’t want to be blindly agreed with. He’s asking because he genuinely doesn’t understand but wants to.
“No?” Levi turns around with a raise of his eyebrow. “Then what's your reason? Why do you want to marry?”
He places his tea cup back down on the desk and adjusts his tie. You shrug.
“I don’t know what the reason will be once I marry. If I ever do.”
Levi thinks it over and turns back around with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
“That’s all. You may go.” He ends the discussion just as abruptly as he started it. Why are you not surprised?
You leave the room and sit down at your desk outside. You rub your temple and tap the heel of your shoe a little.
You really need some coffee.