No assistant ever lasted a full month with the millionaire CEO until a clumsy, stubborn young woman showed up and turned his world upside down. Before we begin, drop a comment telling us what city you’re watching from. And don’t forget to rate the story from 0 to 10 when we’re done. Enjoy the story.

Harper Evans was already late, which in her mind meant she should at least walk in with dignity. Too bad her skirt kept sliding sideways and a piece of paper from the subway had stuck to her heel. Great start. When she pushed the glass door a little too hard, the receptionist choked on her coffee. Your Harper Harper Evans interview for executive assistant.

10:00 a.m. I know it’s already 10:20. And yes, the subway stopped. And yes, I got confused about the building name. And yes, I spilled coffee on my resume, but you can still read it. She blurted it all out in one breath, adjusting her skirt and pulling the paper off her shoe.

The receptionist just blinked like she was watching a video and fastforward. Mr. Collins doesn’t tolerate lateness. Harper smiled. Perfect. I don’t tolerate slippery door knobs. So, we’re even. The receptionist hesitated, then pressed a button on the phone. Mr. Collins, the candidate is here. 5 minutes later, Harper stepped into a grand office where every piece of furniture looked more expensive than her entire apartment.

Behind the desk sat Arthur Collins, CEO of Collins and Blake International suit flawless, hair perfectly styled, eyes cold as ice. She took a deep breath. “Don’t trip. Do not trip. You’re late and you’ve got lipstick on your tooth,” he said. Harper froze.

She ran her tongue over the corner of her mouth, not even trying to hide it. And you’re in the mood of a post-apocalyptic movie. Got any streaming recommendations? Arthur looked up at her for the first time. Long seconds. Silence. The whole room seemed to freeze. Your resume is crumpled. Blame my backpack. It has a mind of its own and holds a grudge against job interviews. Incomplete degree. Business school didn’t find me entertaining enough.

No experience as a secretary. But I do have a hidden talent for finding lost staplers. and I make decent coffee. She smiled, trying not to show the panic bubbling up in her stomach. Arthur studied her like she was a math problem that didn’t quite add up. Finally, he leaned back in his chair. Why do you want this job? Because I’ve got bills to pay.

A cat who eats like a lion and a gift for getting fired before the trial period ends. He raised an eyebrow. Harper winced but kept her composure. Okay, too honest. I can pretend I love corporate environments and colorful spreadsheets if that’s what you prefer. Arthur let out a soft sigh. Every candidate before you was well- behaved. What a waste of time. She sat down without waiting for permission.

Good behavior is overrated. Another pause. Arthur closed the folder. The position is temporary. One month trial. If you survive, you stay. Survive sounds about right. Judging by the look the receptionist gave me. Harper stood up, surprised she was still there. Okay, Mr. Collins, challenge accepted. This will be fun, or at least chaotic.

Start tomorrow, 8:00 sharp. 7:59. Just to throw you off. As she left the office, skirt finally in place and lipstick fixed. Harper didn’t notice the curious glances from the staff in the glass break room. Whispers started. How long do you think she’ll last? One analyst murmured. A week, tops.

Did you see his face? I say 3 days. I’m betting too. If she survives the wrong coffee order, it’ll be a miracle. Inside the office, Arthur Collins slowly twirled his pen between his fingers, still thinking about that oddly honest candidate. Something about her bothered him, or maybe challenged him. He wasn’t sure yet. Harper showed up at exactly 7:59, just like she said.

The receptionist watched her like she was witnessing a rare natural phenomenon. In the elevator, she overheard two employees whispering. The new assistant started today. One said, “Poor thing.” Remember Amanda? She lasted 3 weeks. Cried in the bathroom for the last 5 days. And Patricia, two weeks, quit by email at 2:00 in the morning. Record was Susan.

6 days. Ran out during lunch and never came back. Harper pretended not to hear, but her stomach tightened. When the elevator reached the 32nd floor, she took a deep breath and walked over to the desk that would be her new home for the next 30 days.

If she made it that far, the desk was placed right outside Arthur’s office, like a control station or a battlefield trench. Harper looked over his calendar. Meetings booked every hour. No breaks, not even to breathe, apparently. At 8:15, Arthur stepped out of his office for the first time. He stopped when he saw Harper organizing the files into colorful stacks.

What are you doing creating a system? Green for urgent, yellow for important, blue for can wait until the end of time. There’s already a system and it’s worked perfectly for 5 years. Harper looked at his cold stare. Well, now we have two systems. A little competition is healthy. Arthur stared at her for a full 3 seconds. Then he went back into his office, closing the door a bit harder than necessary.

15 minutes later, the phone rang. Harper answered with enthusiasm. Collins and Blake International. This is Harper speaking. How can I help make your day fantastic? Silence on the other end. Sorry, who’s calling? It’s me, Harper, the new secretary. Who would you like to speak with? I Well, I usually speak directly with Arthur.

This is Johnson from Johnson and Associates. Harper checked the calendar. Oh, Mr. Johnson, you’re scheduled for a meeting on Thursday. Would you like me to confirm the time? Actually, I’m calling about the New York contract. I need to speak with Arthur urgently. Perfect. I’ll transfer you right away. Harper randomly pushed buttons on the phone until she managed to transfer the call.

Arthur picked up on the first ring. Two minutes later, he came out of his office again. You transferred Johnson to the sales department. Oops. I’m still figuring out this phone. It has more buttons than an airplane cockpit. Johnson is our most important client. He can’t be sent to sales when he’s calling about legal contracts. Got it. Johnson equals important.

Sales equals nogo. Harper scribbled on her notepad. Can I ask why he sounded nervous? Arthur hesitated. There’s a problem with a contract clause. Nothing for you to worry about. Before he turned to go back in, Harper slapped her forehead. Oh, I almost forgot. A man dropped off a package for you earlier. I signed for it. What package? He was waiting in the lobby.

Said he was from the law firm and needed to deliver urgent documents. Harper pointed to a folder on the desk. Seemed important. Arthur frowned and picked up the folder. His eyes scanned through the contents quickly. Harper, that wasn’t just any delivery guy. That was David Morrison, senior lawyer at Morrison and Associates. And these are confidential documents for the Johnson contract. Oops. He was wearing jeans and sneakers.

How was I supposed to know? Arthur kept reading, his expression slowly changing. And you signed as a representative of the company. I signed as Harper Evans, person in charge of not letting anything go missing. Pretty creative, right? Harper, you’re not authorized to. He stopped suddenly, his eyes fixed on one particular page. Wait, where exactly did you sign? Here.

She pointed to a line at the bottom of the document. Why? Arthur looked at the signature, then the date, then the location she had signed. Harper, you just uncovered a legal loophole our lawyers have been trying to find for 3 weeks. I uncovered what? By signing here on this specific line, you technically validated a clause that protects our interests in the Johnson contract. He looked at her with a mix of disbelief and admiration.

This could save a $15 million deal. Harper blinked several times. I did something good. You did something three Harvard trained lawyers couldn’t. Wow. And I didn’t even finish college. Arthur went back to his office without another word, taking the documents with him.

Harper stared at the closed door, trying to process what had just happened. At 10:00 a.m., the phone rang again. This time, Harper checked the caller ID before picking up. Collins and Blake, Harper speaking. Hello, may I speak with Arthur Collins. The voice was female, impatient. May I ask who’s calling? This is Margaret Collins, his mother. Harper almost dropped the phone. Oh, Mrs. Collins. One moment, please.

This time, she transferred the call correctly. A few seconds later, she heard Arthur answer in a completely different tone. Hi, Mom. The call lasted exactly 3 minutes. When Arthur hung up, Harper heard a deep sigh from his office. At 11:00, he left for an external meeting. Harper took the chance to explore her new desk a bit more.

In the third drawer, she found a 100page manual, executive secretary manual, protocols and guidelines for the CEO’s assistant. She flipped through it quickly. rules on how to answer the phone, organize documents, schedule meetings, serve coffee, even how to greet visitors. Harper closed the manual and put it back. “Too late for that now,” she muttered to herself. When Arthur got back at 2:00 in the afternoon, he found Harper sitting in his chair using his computer.

“What are you doing in my chair?” “Testing the ergonomics! You must have back problems. This chair is terrible for your posture. Get out of my chair right away. Harper stood up quickly, nearly tripping. I was just checking if I could get into the system in case you ever need something urgently. You don’t have a password.

True, but your password is kind of obvious. Arthur stared at her, stunned. What do you mean obvious? Collins 123. Very original. Harper gave an innocent smile. Maybe think about something more secure. You cracked my password? I didn’t crack it. I guessed. I tried Arthur. CEO Collins. Third try was the charm. You really should mix it up. Arthur dropped into the chair, rubbing his temples.

Harper, you’ve broken at least six security rules today. But I fixed the Johnson contract issue. That has to count for something, right? He watched her for a long moment. Go home. We’ll talk tomorrow about boundaries. Harper picked up her bag trying to figure out whether she was getting fired. Mr.

Collins, what? Thanks for not firing me today. The day is not over yet.” Harper smiled and waved as she headed toward the elevator. Alone in the office, Arthur Collins reopened the documents she had signed without realizing it. The solution was right there, plain as day, thanks to the careless signature of a woman who’d mistaken a senior lawyer for a delivery guy. He shook his head, somewhere between irritated and impressed.

Harper Evans was a walking disaster. But maybe she was exactly the kind of disaster he needed. On the third day, Harper decided it was time to show some initiative. And nothing said initiative like showing up with coffee for the boss before he even asked. She arrived at 7:45 carrying two cups from the coffee shop around the corner.

One for her with milk, sugar, and a hint of cinnamon, and one for Arthur. Since she had no idea how he liked it, she went with a more human version. Milk, two spoons of sugar, and a touch of vanilla. “Good morning, Mr. Collins,” she announced, walking into his office with both cups. “I brought coffee to start the day off, right?” Arthur looked up from the documents he was already reading, his face neutral.

“I didn’t ask for coffee.” “I know. That’s why it’s a surprise.” Harper placed the cup on his desk with a bright smile. It’s a latte with sugar and vanilla. I bet you’ll love it. Arthur looked at the cup like it might explode. I drink my coffee black. Everyone drinks it black until they try a good latte. Come on, just one sip.

Arthur picked it up, gave it a sniff, and made a barely noticeable face. Harper, I’ve been drinking black coffee for 15 years. No milk, no sugar, no vanilla. That’s not coffee. That’s machine fuel. Harper sat in the chair across from him and took a sip of her own. You need something that actually tastes good. Arthur took a small sip, his face twisted like he’d swallowed bad medicine. This is too sweet.

You mean too delicious? No, too sweet. Overpowering. It tastes like like happiness. Harper offered, still cheerful. Like syrup for diabetics. Harper stopped smiling. Hey, I spent $4.50 on that coffee. The least you could do is pretend to like it. I don’t pretend, Harper. And I didn’t ask you to spend your money on me. Wow. Harper leaned back in her chair, stunned.

You really don’t know how to accept a kind gesture, do you? It’s not about kindness. It’s about efficiency. I have a routine that’s worked for years. Routine? Harper gave a short laugh. You mean that thing where you show up, check emails, drink awful coffee, ignore everyone around you, and leave? That routine? Arthur set the cup down a little harder than necessary. My routine got me here.

This company makes millions because I keep standards high. High standards or high walls? Harper leaned forward. Because from where I’m sitting, it looks more like you’ve built a fortress around yourself. Harper. No, let me finish. She pointed at him. You treat coffee like it’s life or death. You talk to people like they’re malfunctioning robots.

And I’m willing to bet that when you go home at night, you eat dinner alone watching the financial news. Arthur didn’t answer, but his eyes flashed. You don’t know anything about my life. I know you look like a robot in a suit who forgot how to smile. The silence that followed was so heavy Harper could almost taste it in the air. Arthur slowly stood up, placing his hands on the desk.

“A robot? A very well-dressed robot?” Harper corrected, trying to keep her voice steady with a perfect schedule and a strong dislike for anything that has flavor. Harper, you’ve been here 3 days. Three. And you think you can analyze my personality based on how I take my coffee? I don’t need 3 weeks to notice you have the charm of a broken vending machine. Arthur walked around the desk and stopped right in front of her.

Harper swallowed hard, but didn’t back down. A broken vending machine? At least those accept coins. You don’t even do that, Harper. And before you complain about how honest I am, just remember you hired me because I’m not like the other well-behaved candidates. The phone rang just then, slicing through the tension like a knife. Harper answered automatically without looking away from Arthur. Collins and Blake.

Harper speaking. I need to speak to Arthur right away. It’s about the West Coast expansion proposal. Harper recognized the voice. Mr. Johnson, the important client. Mr. Johnson, how are you, sir? Can I help you with anything before I transfer the call? Actually, yes, you can. I’m worried about the numbers we saw yesterday. The California market looks unstable, and I’m not sure this is the right time to expand.

Harper looked at Arthur, who was still standing beside the desk, clearly listening in. Mr. Johnson, may I ask, are you concerned about short-term instability or long-term? Well, both, to be honest. Harper bit her lip, thinking fast.

Have you seen the news about the new tax incentive law that passed in California last week? Silence on the other end. What law? The Business Investment Incentive Act. It offers up to 30% in tax breaks for companies that set up operations there in the next 18 months. Harper glanced at Arthur, who now looked surprised. If Collins and Blake moves in now, you could take advantage of that window and get a serious lead over the competition.

Didn’t know about that law. It passed last Thursday, but hasn’t been widely reported yet. Most companies won’t find out until it’s too late. Arthur stared at her in disbelief. Harper, can you transfer the call now? He whispered. Of course, Mr. Johnson, I’ll transfer you to Mr. Collins right away, but if I may, I’d suggest speeding things up.

Opportunities like this don’t come around every day. Thank you, Harper. You just saved my morning. Harper transferred the call and leaned back in her chair, her heart pounding. Arthur picked up on speaker. Johnson, tell me I just heard what I think I heard. Arthur, that assistant of yours is a gem.

How did she know about that California law? I would like to know that, too. The call went on for another 20 minutes. When Arthur finally hung up, he just looked at Harper for a long moment. How did you know about that law? Harper fiddled with her bagstrap. I read a lot, and when I don’t have anything to do, I browse news sites. I saw the article on Friday and thought it was interesting.

You read California legislation in your spare time? I read everything. News, blogs, even medicine labels when I’m really bored. She shrugged. You never know when a random piece of information will come in handy. Arthur sat back in his chair, still processing everything that had just happened.

Harper, you just gave Johnson information that could be worth millions to us. Nice. Does that make up for the coffee you hated? Arthur almost smiled. Almost. The coffee was still terrible. And you still act like a robot, but a robot who occasionally admits when someone helped him. Outside the office in the open area, a small crowd had gathered near the coffee machine.

Everyone pretended to be busy, but they were clearly trying to hear the conversation. “Did she just call in what?” whispered Marina from accounting. “A robot in a suit,” replied Carlos from legal. “And a broken vending machine.” “She’s crazy,” muttered Jennifer from marketing. Nobody talks to Arthur Collins like that, but it worked, said David, the intern.

Did you see how focused he was when she spoke to Johnson? She’ll be fired by Friday, guest Marina. I’m not so sure, said Carlos. Did you hear that call? She just saved a million dollar contract. Back in the office, Arthur was typing something on his computer. Harper, about the coffee. I know, I know. You like it black. No sugar, no flavor, no joy, no vanilla. He corrected, this time with something close to a smile. I can tolerate the rest.

Harper blinked, surprised. Was that almost a joke? That was a factual correction. Of course it was. Harper smiled. I’ll bring plain black coffee tomorrow, but I’m still bringing colorful napkins just to annoy you. Harper? Yes. Nice move with the California law. Harper felt her face get warm. Thank you, Mr. Collins.

Arthur, you can call me Arthur. Really? Don’t get used to it. It’s only because you saved $15 million today. Harper smiled and went back to her desk, feeling an odd sense of victory. Through the glass door, Arthur Collins watched his new secretary sorting files while humming quietly. She was a mess.

Impulsive, stubborn, completely unpredictable, and it seemed exactly what he hadn’t realized he needed, even if her coffee was truly awful. On Friday, Arthur walked over to Harper’s desk with an air of authority and said, “You need to go to the company’s year-end party,” he announced like he was talking about the weather.

Harper stopped organizing the files and looked at him. “I need to. It’s mandatory for executive staff.” “But I’m a secretary. You’re my executive assistant. Technically, you’re part of the executive team.” Harper blinked a few times. “Since when?” since you saved three contracts this week and found out our accountant was charging double for basic services. It was true.

After the California law incident, Harper had really thrown herself into the work. And apparently she had a natural talent for spotting problems no one else noticed. Arthur, I don’t have anything to wear to a corporate party. It’s on Saturday at 8. Wear something appropriate. Define appropriate. Arthur studied her for a moment, noticing the faded jeans and the colorful cat print blouse, something without animals on it.

On Saturday at 6:00 in the evening, Harper stood in front of a mirror at a dress rental shop, questioning all her life choices. “This one is perfect for you,” the saleswoman said, adjusting a bright red dress. “It catches the eye just enough.” Harper looked at herself in the mirror. The dress was beautiful, but definitely attention-grabbing.

Cherry red fitted just right with an elegant but bold neckline. Isn’t it a little too red? Dear, you have to stand out. A corporate party is a social battleground. You either make an impression or you disappear. An hour later, Harper was at the entrance of the five-star hotel where the party was being held, trying not to trip in high heels.

The red dress stood out sharply against the neutral, understated tones of the other guests. She took a deep breath and stepped into the elegantly decorated ballroom. Crystal chandeliers, tables with white tablecloths, and a string quartet playing classical music in the background. This isn’t a party, she muttered to herself. It’s a fancy funeral.

Trying to look confident, Harper headed toward the bar. That’s when her heels seemed to take on a life of its own. She stumbled badly, arms flailing for balance. Unfortunately, her hands hit a tray of champagne glasses. As the waiter was carrying, the tray flew through the air in slow motion.

Six crystal glasses crashed down, headed straight for Arthur Collins, who was talking with a group of investors a few feet away. “Oh, now,” Harper whispered, watching the disaster unfold. Arthur turned just as the glasses were inches from his perfectly pressed tuxedo. With impressive reflexes, he dodged, making the champagne splash onto the floor instead of himself.

The entire room went quiet. Complete silence. Harper stood there in the middle of the broken glass, her face as red as her dress. I am sorry. Arthur looked her over. His tux was spotless, though there were a few drops of champagne on his shoes. Instead of blowing up as Harper expected, he just let out a long sigh.

Are you all right? I What? I asked if you’re all right. Did you cut yourself on the glass? Harper looked down, surprised by the question. No, I don’t think so. Arthur signaled to the waiter, who quickly started cleaning up the shards. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, offering her his arm. They walked over to a quieter balcony away from the curious stairs of the other guests.

“Arthur, I’m so sorry. I know you hate being the center of attention.” And era, she obeyed, taking a deep breath. Better a little. Harper leaned on the balcony railing. You’re not going to fire me for almost turning you into a champagne fountain. Arthur leaned next to her. I’ve thought worse things about you. That was almost a compliment. It was a factual observation.

They fell silent for a few minutes, listening to the music coming from inside. Do you play piano? Harper asked suddenly. Arthur looked at her surprised. Why do you ask? You were watching the pianist in there with such a thoughtful expression, like someone who recognizes the music in a different way. observant. So, do you play? Arthur hesitated. I used to when I was a kid.

Why did you stop? My mom thought it was a waste of time. She used to say businessmen didn’t need artsy hobbies. Harper frowned. That’s nonsense. Music is important. Do you play anything? Guitar? Not very well, but I try. She smiled. I always wanted to learn piano, but I never had the money for lessons.

It’s hard at first, but once you get the hang of it, is it like learning another language? Exactly. Arthur looked at her with genuine interest. How did you know I played? Your hands. You’ve got pianist fingers, long, graceful, and when the music was playing, your fingers started moving on their own like they were playing in the air.

Arthur looked down at his hands like he was seeing them for the first time. You’re very observant for someone who trips on flat rugs. Selective focus. It’s a talent. They both laughed. Hello. Easy laugh that surprised them. Arr, can I ask you something? Sure. Do you like birthday parties? His expression changed immediately. I hate them.

Why? They always felt like obligations. My mom used to throw big parties when I was a kid, but they were more about impressing her friends than making me happy. I’d wear a suit, shake hands with adults pretending to care and just wait for it to be over. Harper felt a pang in her chest. That’s really sad. That’s life. No, it’s not.

A birthday party should be about you. About people who actually care being there. So, what would your ideal party look like? Harper thought for a moment. Pizza, good music, silly games, people laughing until their stomachs hurt, and a cake with way too much frosting. Because there’s no such thing as too much frosting. That sounds chaotic. That sounds fun.

Arthur was about to respond when the balcony door opened. Marcus from sales came stumbling out slightly tipsy. “Well, look who’s here,” he said, clearly drunk. “The prettiest assistant in the company.” Harper shrank a little. “Hi, Marcus.” “Harper, you look amazing in that dress.” Marcus stepped in closer than he needed to.

“How about a dance? Thanks, but I’m talking with Arthur right now. Oh, come on. Leave the boss for a few minutes. Marcus held out his hand. He won’t mind. Actually, she said no. Arthur said, his voice suddenly cold. Relax, Arthur. It’s just a dance. Marcus ignored her refusal and reached for Harper’s hand.

She pulled back, but he kept going and grabbed her wrist. Marcus, please come on. Don’t be shy. Before Harper could react, Arthur stepped in front of her, placing himself between them. Take your hands off her now. Hey, take it easy now, Marcus. Arthur’s voice left no room for argument. Marcus let go of Harper’s wrist immediately. Sorry, man.

I didn’t know you two were, you know. Go back to the party and drink some coffee. Marcus left quickly, leaving them alone again. Harper rubbed her wrist, even though Marcus hadn’t really hurt her. Thank you. Does he always do that? Sometimes when he’s had too much, it’s never been serious, but it shouldn’t happen.

Harper looked at Arthur, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands were clenched. Are you okay? I’m fine. What matters is that you’re okay. Something in the way he said that made Harper’s heartbeat a little faster. Arthur? Yes. Thanks for not leaving me alone with him. Harper, yes. Thanks for reminding me that parties can be about more than just obligations. They looked at each other for a moment.

That lasted longer than it probably should have. We should get back, Arthur said finally. Probably. But neither of them moved. Something had changed on that balcony. Something subtle but real. And they both knew there was no going back. The following Monday after the party, Arthur was quieter than usual. Harper noticed he was checking his phone every 5 minutes and sighing more than any person reasonably should.

“Something wrong?” she asked, sorting his mail on the desk. My mother’s coming to New York. Is that bad? She wants to introduce me to a friend’s daughter, a lawyer, Yale graduate, perfect to start a successful family. He made air quotes clearly annoyed. Harper stopped sorting papers. And you don’t want to meet her? Harper, I know the type.

She’ll talk about expensive wine, European vacations, and how she plans to support my career while redesigning an apartment that isn’t even hers yet. Wow. Do you have a problem with ambitious women? I have a problem with people who see me as a life project instead of a person. The phone rang before Harper could answer. Arthur glanced at the caller ID and frowned. It’s her. Answer it.

I can step out if you want some privacy. No, stay. Maybe having you here will stop me from saying something I’ll regret. Arthur picked up and put it on speaker. Hi, Mom. Arthur, darling, I’ll be arriving Thursday at 2. I already booked lunch for Friday at the plaza with you and Caroline. Mom, I already told you I can’t. Caroline Wittman, degree in corporate law. Harvard graduate.

Comes from a very respectable family. You two will get along beautifully. Harper watched as Arthur ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. Mom, I can’t make lunch on Friday. Why not? Arthur hesitated, glancing at Harper with a desperate look. Because Because I’m already seeing someone. Silence on the other end of the line.

Seeing someone? Since when? Since? A few weeks ago. Harper’s eyes widened as she realized where this was going. Arthur, you’ve never mentioned a girlfriend. Because it’s new. Very new. What’s her name? Arthur looked straight at Harper, who was now shaking her head vigorously. Harper? Her name is Harper. Harper? What kind of name is Harper? A lovely name, Mom. She’s She’s special.

Harper covered her face with her hands. Well, then I want to meet her. Bring her to lunch instead of Caroline. Mom, this isn’t wonderful. Friday 1:00 at the plaza. No excuses. The call ended. Arthur and Harper looked at each other in silence for a few seconds. You just used me as an excuse with your mother. Harper finally said, “I panicked.

Arthur, I know, I know it was dumb, but you heard her. Caroline Wittmann, Harvard graduate, perfect family. She was planning our wedding before I even met the woman. Harper stood and began pacing the room. This is crazy. You’re going to have to call her back and tell her the truth. Or you could help me out. Harper stopped pacing.

What do you mean? Just pretend to be my girlfriend for the afternoon so she’ll stop trying to set me up. Arthur, this is a terrible idea. Please, Harper, I’ll buy you pizza for a month. Pizza won’t cover the emotional trauma of meeting your mother. Two months of pizza and a raise. Harper looked at him for a long moment. How much of a raise? 15%. 25 20. Deal.

But if your mom hates me, it’s on you. She’s going to love you. Harper let out a sarcastic laugh. Arthur, your mom’s expecting Caroline Whitman, Harvard graduate. I’m Harper Evans, dropped out of college, and I’m your assistant. Executive assistant. Same difference. She’ll hate me in the first minute.

By Friday, Harper was standing in front of the Plaza Hotel, wearing her one dressy outfit, navy blue conservative, borrowed from her neighbor, and trying not to throw up from nerves. Arthur appeared beside her as perfect as ever. Ready? Definitely not. What’s our story again? We met at work, started out as friends, and things just grew from there. And how long have we been dating? 3 weeks. Okay.

And what do I do for a living? You work with me in the strategy department. Arthur, I don’t know anything about strategy. You save three contracts this month. You know more than you think. They walked into the elegant restaurant. Margaret Collins was waiting at a table by the window.

Harper recognized her immediately. Perfectly styled gray hair, pearl necklace, posture that screamed high society. Arthur darling. Margaret stood to hug her son. Then her eyes landed on Harper with thinly veiled curiosity. “Mom, this is Harper.” “Harper, my mother, Margaret Collins. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs.

Collins,” Harper said, extending her hand. Margaret shook her hand briefly, clearly inspecting every detail. “So, you’re Harper?” “Arthur hasn’t told me much about you.” “He tends to be private.” Harper smiled, “But in a good way.” They sat down, and Harper immediately dropped her napkin on the floor. As she bent to pick it up, she bumped her head on the table.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her face read. Margaret raised an eyebrow, watching the scene. “Harper, what field do you work in?” “Strategy.” “Mainly contract analysis.” “And what did you study?” Harper swallowed hard. “Business administration, but I didn’t finish college.” “You didn’t finish?” Margaret looked genuinely shocked. “I had to start working to support myself.

Sometimes life doesn’t follow the timeline we plan, does it? Margaret blinked a few times as if processing that information. And your family? My mom’s a nurse in Ohio. My dad, well, he’s been out of the picture for a long time. Oh, Margaret looked a bit uncomfortable with the honesty, but my mom’s amazing. She worked double shifts to support me when I was a teenager. She’s the strongest person I know.

Arthur listened to the conversation, noticing how Harper chose to answer with honesty instead of trying to impress. “And do you plan to go back to college?” Margaret asked. “Maybe, but honestly, I’ve learned more on the job than I did in two years of lectures.

” “What do you mean?” “Well, last week I helped save a $15 million deal by spotting a legal loophole the lawyers had missed. There’s no college class that teaches that kind of instinct.” Margaret looked at Arthur, who nodded in agreement. It’s true. Harper has a natural talent for finding solutions that go unnoticed. Interesting. Margaret took a sip of water. And your future plans? Harper nearly choked on the question. Future plans with Arthur.

Marriage family? Mom? Arthur cut in. It’s way too early to actually It’s fine, Harper said. Mrs. Collins, I believe healthy relationships are built slowly. Arthur and I are getting to know each other. No rush. No pressure. No pressure. Exactly. It doesn’t make sense to plan a future with someone you’re still discovering. Arthur is surprising. I learn something new about him every day.

Margaret looked between the two of them, clearly intrigued. And what have you learned so far? Herp gave a warm smile. That he plays piano. That he hates birthday parties but loves classical music. that he’s kinder than he seems and funnier than he knows. Arthur looked at her a bit surprised. Funny? You have that dry sense of humor that catches people off guard. It’s charming.

Margaret watched their exchange with growing interest. Arthur never told me he played piano. He should start playing again, Harper said. Talented people shouldn’t leave their gifts behind. Lunch continued with Harper being surprisingly natural.

She knocked over a few things, laughed a little too loud once, and asked a couple of overly direct questions, but she was also honest, funny, and truly curious about getting to know Margaret. By the time they said goodbye, Margaret gave Harper a much warmer hug than at the start. It was a pleasure meeting you, Harper. Same here, Mrs. Collins.

Arthur, Margaret whispered to her son while Harper was distracted. She’s different. In what way? Authentic. She’s not trying to impress me. It’s refreshing. After Margaret left, Arthur and Harper walked quietly for a few blocks. So Harper finally asked, “How’d I do?” She liked you. “Really? More than liked you.” She was intrigued. “My mother can’t stand people who try too hard, but you were just yourself.” Harper smiled. “Good.

Pretending to be someone else is exhausting.” “Harper?” “Yes, thank you. Really? You’re welcome. But you owe me a 20% raise and two months of pizza. Deal.” They both laughed, but something between them had shifted again. The lie had started to feel dangerously close to the truth.

The Monday after lunch with Margaret, Harper arrived at the office and found Arthur on a tense call with Robert Sterling, CEO of Sterling Tech, one of the biggest tech companies in the country. “Robert, I understand your concern, but our marketing proposal is solid,” Arthur was saying, clearly frustrated. Harper pretended to organize papers while listening in.

Yes, I know the young market is important. No, our team hasn’t lost touch with the millennial audience. Robert, please give me one more week to reshape the presentation. Arthur hung up and ran his hands over his face. Trouble? Harper asked. Sterling thinks our marketing proposal for their new app is too old for their target audience.

He wants something that speaks young, but our team only knows how to do traditional corporate campaigns. What’s the app? Taskmaster, a task organizer for college students and young professionals. Harper frowned. And what was the proposal you showed him? Arthur pulled up slides on his computer, sleek corporate images, slogans like efficiency is the path to success and smiling models in spotless office settings.

Arthur, this looks like an ad for life insurance. What do you mean? Young people don’t live like that. Their lives are chaotic. They’re juggling work, school, social life, and existential anxiety. This campaign talks to robots, not real people. Arthur leaned back in his chair.

“So, how would you do it?” Harper thought for a moment, biting her lip. Raw honesty. Show the actual chaos. Something like, “Your runes a war zone. You missed three deadlines this week, and you’ve been living on Ronin noodles, but at least your tasks are organized in Taskmaster.” Arthur blinked. That’s very specific because it’s real. Young people love it when someone admits life is messy. No one wants to pretend they’ve got it all together.

Harper, marketing doesn’t work like that. You can’t. And using memes, she cut in excited. That meme of the dog sitting in the fire saying, “This is fine. Perfect for Taskmaster. Your life is burning down, but your tasks are in order. This is fine.” Arthur looked at her like she just suggested selling ice cream in the Arctic.

Memes in a corporate campaign. Arthur Sterling wants to reach young people and young people speak in memes. It’s practically its own language. Before Arthur could answer, the door opened. Robert Sterling walked in with his team an hour early for the meeting.

“Arthur, I hope you’ve got something new to show me,” Robert said, shaking his hand. “Robert, you’re early. the meeting was scheduled for. I changed my mind. I want to see what you’ve got right now. Arthur glanced nervously at Harper, who was sitting at her desk with a stack of papers. Of course, I’ll call the marketing team. Actually, Harper stood up suddenly. May I present an alternative idea? Arthur stared at her in horror. Harper, this isn’t.

Who is she? Robert asked, curious. Harper Evans, strategic assistant, she answered before Arthur could speak. and I have a proposal that could completely change the way you speak to your audience. Arthur tried to step in, but Robert seemed interested. Go on. Harper picked up a marker and walked to the whiteboard.

Taskmaster isn’t just an organization app. It’s a lifeline for people drowning in their own chaos. She began drawing simple figures on the board. Campaign: At least one thing is in order. Scene one. A young guy wakes up late. His room’s a mess. Clothes everywhere. He looks at his phone and sees all his tasks neatly listed in Taskmaster line. Your life’s a mess, but your priorities aren’t.

Robert leaned forward, intrigued. Scene two. A student in the library surrounded by books, looking panicked. She opens Taskmaster and breathes a sigh of relief. Line. When everything’s out of control, at least you know what to do first. Arthur looked pale, but Robert was smiling. And how would you make this go viral? Harper grinned. Authentic memes.

Partner with influencers who actually use the app dayto-day. No actors pretending to be organized. Real people showing how Taskmaster helps them survive their chaotic lives. Memes? One of Robert’s executives asked. Exactly. I’m watching my life fall apart, but at least my tasks are in Taskmaster. Harper mimicked the popular Drake meme using hand gestures. Robert burst out laughing. That’s brilliant.

You’re finally speaking our language. Arthur tried to take control of the situation. Robert, this is just an early concept. Our team still needs to develop. There’s nothing to develop. Robert interrupted. This is exactly the kind of energy we’ve been looking for.

Harper, can you lead this campaign? Harper looked at Arthur, who seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I Well, it would be an honor. Perfect. I want a full proposal by Friday with timeline, budget, everything. Robert shook Harper’s hand enthusiastically. Arthur, you found a gem.

This young woman understands the younger market better than any agency we’ve worked with. When Robert and his team left, Arthur closed the door and turned to Harper. What just happened? I saved the deal. Harper, you just committed to leading a multi-million dollar campaign without checking with anyone. But he liked the idea. That’s not the point. Arthur paced the room. You don’t have experience in marketing.

You don’t know budgets, timelines, teams. Arthur, breathe. We’ll figure it out together. Together? You’re not going to let me sink on my own, are you? Arthur looked at her for a long moment. Harper, you just committed us to our biggest client and saved our account. Sterling was ready to drop us.

That doesn’t mean The door opened again. David from legal came in beaming. Guys, Sterling just signed a 2-year contract extension. They loved the new creative direction. After David left, Arthur dropped into his chair. Harper, do you realize what you’ve done? Saved our jobs? You, he ran his hands through his hair. You just reinvented our entire marketing strategy in 15 minutes.

Out in the common area, the rumors had already started. Harper’s leading the Sterling campaign, Marina whispered. She’s only been here what, one month? Carlos replied. and now she’s a strategic assistant. Jennifer rolled her eyes. Clearly, something’s going on between her and Arthur.

Or maybe she’s just really good at what she does, David said. Oh, please. Nobody rises that fast without a little extra help. Back in the office, Arthur was on the phone pulling together a team to support Harper. Yes, marketing is fully on board. No, she’s not inexperienced. She’s innovative, right? Meeting at 9:00 tomorrow. When he hung up, he looked at Harper.

Congratulations, you’ve officially been promoted to senior strategic assistant. Really? Sterling insisted and the board approved a 30% raise in your salary. Harper jumped out of her chair. Arthur, that’s amazing. Harper? Yes. If this campaign fails, we’re both getting fired. Then we’d better make it work. Arthur looked at her, noticing the determined spark in her eyes.

Why do I feel like I just unleashed a hurricane on the company? because you did.” Harper smiled. But the kind of hurricane that leaves everything better once it passes. Arthur shook his head. Somewhere between impressed and terrified, Harper Evans had arrived as a temporary secretary. Now she was leading the company’s biggest campaign, and he was starting to realize he couldn’t imagine the office without her creative chaos. Even if that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

It was Thursday, 11:00 at night, and Harper was still at the office, putting the final touches on the proposal for Sterling. Arthur had insisted on staying, too, going over every detail with the obsession of someone who feared a misplaced comma could cost $15 million. “Arthur, for the 10th time, the presentation is perfect,” Harper said, glancing at him over a stack of papers.

“You need to stop revising. Just one more pass through the Q3 numbers, he muttered, eyes still on the screen. Harper noticed he looked paler than usual and had touched his forehead several times in the last hour. Are you okay? You look a little I’m fine. Arthur cut her off, but his voice sounded. 15 minutes later, Harper heard a strange noise coming from his office.

She looked up and saw Arthur holding his head in his hands. Arr. He didn’t answer. Harper got up and walked into the office. Arthur was clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, his face flushed and sweaty. “You have a fever,” she said, touching his forehead. His skin was burning. “I don’t have a fever. I have work to do.” “Arthur, you’re literally burning up. When’s the last time you ate?” He tried to remember and couldn’t.

“I don’t know. Yesterday, maybe the day before. Oh my god.” Harper shook her head. “You’re worse than a stubborn child. Come on, get up. Harper, I need to finish. What you need is medicine and rest. The presentation can wait. Arthur tried to argue, but a wave of dizziness made him grab onto the desk.

Okay, maybe maybe I do need 5 minutes. Harper helped him up, slipping her arm around his waist. 5 minutes? Nothing. You’re lying down now. She guided him to the break room in the back of the office. A small space with a couch, a little table, and a mini fridge that was rarely used. Harper, this is ridiculous.

I don’t need sick. She gently pushed him down onto the couch and stay quiet while I take care of you. Arthur sank into the couch, surprised by the relief he felt at finally giving in to what his body had been begging for. Harper disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a steaming mug, some pills, and a towel with ice.

Chamomile tea from the breakroom, two ibuprofen I found in the first aid kit, and ice to bring the fever down. she announced, setting everything on the table. Where’d you find chamomile tea? Jennifer from marketing has a whole collection in her cabinet. I borrowed it without asking. Harper sat at the edge of the couch. Take your medicine.

Arthur obeyed without complaint, which told Harper just how sick he really was. She placed the cool towel on his forehead, and Arthur closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. Better much? He opened his eyes and looked at her. Harper, you don’t have to do this. Of course I do.

Somebody has to take care of you since you clearly won’t do it yourself. I can take care of myself. Really? When was the last time you took a day off? Arthur thought for a moment. Last Christmas. Arthur, that was almost a year ago. I like working. You like hiding and work. That’s different. Harper adjusted the towel on his forehead. Why do you do this to yourself? Do what? Punish yourself.

Shut people out. Act like you don’t deserve a life outside this company. Arthur stayed quiet for a moment, eyes closed. The fever and exhaustion had worn down his usual defenses. My mother always said that successful men don’t have time for weakness, he finally said, voice low. Illness is weakness.

Needing others is weakness. Depending on someone is weakness. Harper felt a knot in her chest. Arr, that’s awful. It’s efficient. Or it was until you showed up. What do you mean? Arthur opened his eyes, looking at her with a vulnerable expression Harper had never seen before. You mess everything up. My routine, my rules, my ability to keep my distance. He paused, breathing hard.

And the worst part is I can’t imagine the office without you anymore. Harper held her breath. Arthur, when I was a kid, whenever I got sick, my mother would send the nanny to take care of me. She said she didn’t have time for unnecessary drama. He closed his eyes again. I learned that being sick meant being alone. That’s so lonely. That’s why I never let myself rely on anyone. It’s safer.

Harper felt tears sting her eyes. Without thinking, she took his hand. You’re not alone now. Arthur looked down at their joined hands, surprised. Normally, he would have pulled away, but this time he squeezed her hand back. Harper, I I’m scared. Scared of what? Of getting used to this? To you taking care of me? to needing you.

His voice was quiet but completely honest. Why does that scare you? Because people always leave. My dad left when I was 12. Said my mother was too cold and I was turning into her. Every girlfriend I had eventually gave up trying to reach me. He looked straight at her. And you will too, Arthur. You’ll realize I really am what my mother says. Cold, distant, unable to feel the right way.

Harper leaned in closer, still holding his hand. Listen to me, you stubborn robot. You’re not cold. You’re careful. There’s a big difference. Let me finish. She smiled. You protect yourself because you’ve been hurt before. That doesn’t make you a robot. It makes you human. A scared human maybe, but still human.

Arthur watched her like he was seeing something impossible. How do you do that? Do what? Make me feel like like I could be different. Better. They were very close now. Harper could feel his breath. See the small scars on his face? she’d never noticed before. Arr, you’re already better than you think. Something shifted in the air between them.

Arthur lifted his free hand and gently touched her face. Harper. Yes. Thank you for taking care of me, for not giving up. They moved even closer. Harper could feel the heat of his fever, see the vulnerability in his eyes. For a moment, the world stopped. Arthur tilted his head, his lips just inches from hers, and then he stopped. I I can’t.

Why not? Because you deserve someone who knows how to do this right. Someone who isn’t afraid to feel. He pulled back, running a hand through his hair. I don’t want to hurt you, Harper. And if that choice is mine to make. Arthur looked at her with a mix of longing and fear. Harper, you don’t understand. I don’t know how to be normal.

How to date, how to show affection, how to not ruin everything. Then learn. And if I can’t, Herper gave a sad smile. Then at least you tried. They looked at each other in silence, the moment heavy with unspoken possibilities. Finally, Arthur leaned back on the couch, the damp towel still on his forehead. Harper. Yes. Stay.

Just until I fall asleep. Of course. Harper settled next to him on the couch, their hands still joined. Arthur fell asleep a few minutes later, his breathing finally calm. Harper stayed awake watching him sleep and wondering how someone could seem so powerful during the day and so fragile at night.

She didn’t know Arthur wasn’t fully asleep and she didn’t know he was memorizing the feeling of her hand in his trying to hold on to the first time in years he hadn’t felt completely alone. The following Monday, Harper arrived at the office to find a tense atmosphere. Employees were whispering in groups, stopping when she walked by. Something was going on.

Arthur wasn’t in his office, which was odd for someone who always arrived before 8. Harper organized her desk and tried to ignore the curious looks. At exactly 9, Arthur walked in with three board members, Richard Hayes, Patricia Wilson, and James Morrison. All of them looked serious. “Harper, I need you to come to the conference room now,” Arthur said, avoiding looking directly at her.

“Is there a problem?” “Just come, please.” The conference room was full. The entire marketing team, HR, legal, and other departments were there. Harper felt her stomach drop. Richard Hayes, the board chair, stood up. Miss Evans, it’s come to our attention there are certain concerns about your rapid rise in the company. Concerns? Some employees have questioned whether your promotion and leadership of the Sterling campaign were based purely on professional merit, Patricia Wilson added, her tone icy. Harper looked around the room. Some co-workers avoided

her eyes. Others watched with morbid curiosity. Jennifer from marketing wore a barely hidden look of satisfaction. What exactly are you implying? Harper asked, trying to keep her voice steady. We’re not implying anything, James Morrison replied. We’re investigating. Is it just a coincidence that a secretary with no experience is promoted so quickly after getting close to the CEO? Harper felt her face flush.

She looked at Arthur, hoping he would say something. Anything. Arthur stayed silent, staring at the table. Mr. Collins. Richard Hayes turned to Arthur. Would you care to clarify the nature of your relationship with Miss Evans? Arthur finally looked up, meeting Harper’s eyes briefly before looking away. Harper is a capable employee. Her promotions were based on performance. That’s all. Patricia pressed.

That’s all. Harper felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. After everything they had shared, after his vulnerability the night before, he was now denying any connection between them. “Miss Evans,” Richard continued.

“Do you deny any inappropriate personal involvement with your supervisor?” “Inappropriate,” Harper repeated, her voice starting to tremble with anger. “Are you accusing me of getting promoted because of what exactly? Please just answer the question.” Harper looked at Arthur again. He still wouldn’t meet her gaze. There is nothing inappropriate about my professional relationship with Mr. Collins. And on a personal level, there is no personal relationship.

The words came out bitter. Technically true, but it hurt to say them. Richard glanced at some documents. Several witnesses reported seeing the two of you together outside the office at the Plaza Hotel, for example. A business meeting, Arthur said quickly. with your mother present?” Patricia raised an eyebrow. An awkward silence filled the room. “Look,” Harper stood up, unable to take it any longer.

“I don’t know who started these rumors, but I can prove my professional value. The Sterling campaign increased company contracts by 40%. I saved three deals that were about to fall through. I implemented systems that saved.” “No one’s questioning the results,” James interrupted. “We’re questioning the methods.

” “The methods?” Harper let out a dry laugh. You want to know my methods? I work 12-hour days. I read everything about our clients. I researched the market in my own time, and I genuinely care about the success of this company. Miss Evans, please calm down, Richard said. Calm down. You’re tearing apart my professional reputation based on gossip, and I should calm down.

Harper looked at Arthur one last time, hoping he’d say something in her defense. He stayed silent. You know what? Harper grabbed her bag. I won’t stay here and be humiliated by people who’d rather believe rumors than results. Miss Evans, I resign. Effective immediately. A shocked murmur swept through the room. Harper, it doesn’t have to end like this. Arthur finally spoke, his voice quiet.

Harper turned to him, eyes flashing with anger and hurt. Now you speak. After sitting there and letting them tear me apart, she shook her head. You are exactly what I thought you were on day one. A cold robot who cares about no one but himself. Harper. No, I’m done. She looked around at the board. Keep your theories and your gossip. I have too much self-respect to stay where I’m not respected.

Harper walked out, slamming the door behind her. The silence that followed was deafening. Arthur stood frozen, staring at the closed door. Well, Richard finally said, “Problem solved. Problem solved.” Arthur repeated, his voice distant. The uncomfortable situation has been removed. We can return to normal. Arthur nodded slowly, but something inside him was falling apart. The next day, Arthur arrived early as usual.

But when he passed Harper’s empty desk, he stopped. She had left everything perfectly organized, files by color, schedule updated, even detailed instructions for whoever took over her duties. Arthur sat at his own desk and tried to work as if everything were normal.

Two hours later, he realized he had read the same email five times and hadn’t absorbed a word. “Mr. Collins,” Jennifer from marketing stood at the door. “About the meeting with Sterling on Thursday.” “Cancel it,” Arthur said without looking up. “But sir, it’s about the contract renewal.” “I said cancel it.” Jennifer quickly left. By Wednesday, Arthur was late to two meetings and had replied to emails with completely off-topic answers.

When Marcus from legal tried to go over a contract, Arthur practically threw him out of the office. He’s impossible, Marcus muttered to Marina by the coffee machine. Worse than before Harper showed up. Maybe now he’ll realize how much she actually helped, Marina replied. On Thursday, Arthur was on the phone with an employment agency.

I need someone with experience who doesn’t get intimidated easily, he said. Someone with a strong personality. What specific profile are you looking for, Mr. Collins? Arthur paused, realizing he was describing Harper. Never mind. I’ll call back later. He hung up and leaned back in his chair. The office was running technically, but it felt lifeless.

No Spark. No. No. Harper. On Friday, Sterling called. Arr. Where’s Harper? I need to go over some changes in the campaign with her. Harper doesn’t work here anymore. What? Why? Arthur couldn’t find the words. Arthur, have you lost your mind? Harper’s the best thing that’s happened to your company in years.

What the hell happened? After a tense call with Sterling, Arthur sat alone in his office, staring at the empty desk just outside his door. For the first time, he admitted the truth he had been trying to avoid. It wasn’t just that Harper made work more efficient. She made his life better, lighter, more human, and he had let them humiliate her and drive her away because he was afraid. Afraid to admit he needed her.

Afraid to admit he was in love with her. Arthur picked up the phone, hesitated, then put it down again. How could he fix things now? After betraying her in the worst possible way, outside the city kept moving. But inside Collins and Blake, Arthur Collins was learning a painful lesson.

Some opportunities once lost never come back and some people once hurt may never trust you again. He had lost Harper and he was starting to realize he had lost the best part of himself with her. Arthur spent the entire weekend trying to figure out where she was. He called her number dozens of times, but it went straight to voicemail. He even stopped by her apartment, but the neighbor said she hadn’t seen her in days.

It was David from legal who finally gave him a clue. Harper. Oh yeah, she posted on Instagram that she’s volunteering at an animal shelter in Brooklyn. Something about needing puppy therapy after corporate heartbreak. Arthur had never used Instagram in his life, but he managed to find the location. Paws and Hart’s animal rescue.

On Sunday morning, he drove to Brooklyn with a bouquet of pink peies, Harper’s favorite flowers, according to the receptionist, and a carefully rehearsed speech he practiced in the mirror for an hour. The shelter was a small building surrounded by outdoor pens and kennels. Arthur parked adjusted his suit completely wrong for this and headed to the entrance.

Can I help you? A volunteer at the front desk asked. I’m looking for Harper Evans. It’s an emergency. Harper? She’s in the rescued pig pen. Out that door. Take a right. You can’t miss it. Arthur followed the directions, mentally running through his speech. Harper, I made a terrible mistake. You’re essential to the company, and two, he stopped abruptly when he saw the scene in front of him.

Harper was sitting in the middle of a pen, surrounded by hay, with a little pink piglet in her lap. She was wearing old jeans, rubber boots, and a t-shirt stained with mud. She was talking to the animal like it was a baby. “No, Bentley, you can’t eat my bracelet. It’s not food,” she said, laughing as the piglet tried to nibble on her wrist.

Arthur stood by the fence holding the bouquet, completely unsure of how to proceed. Excuse me, he called out. Harper looked up and her expression shifted instantly from cheerful to ice cold. “What are you doing here?” “I need to talk to you. We have nothing to talk about.” Harper turned her attention back to the pig. “Besides, I’m busy.” Bentley here was abandoned by people who thought he was no longer useful. The jab landed hard.

Arthur opened the gate and stepped into the pen, holding the bouquet like a shield. Harper, please let me explain. Explain what? How you sat there in silence while they humiliated me? Harper finally looked at him. Or how you denied there was ever anything between us? I was trying to protect you. That’s not true. You were protecting yourself.

Arthur took a step forward, ready to hander the flowers, but stepped right into a mud puddle. His foot slipped and he fell spectacularly, landing flat on his back in a pile of hay. The bouquet flew out of his hands, petals scattering everywhere. Bentley, startled, jumped off Harper’s lap and ran straight toward Arthur, who was now covered in straw and mud. Get off.

Get off. Arthur tried to shake off the little pig, but Bentley decided the expensive suit was the perfect place to rub himself. Harper couldn’t hold back a laugh. Bentley, leave the man alone,” she said, picking up the animal. Arthur sat down in the straw, his tie crooked, hair a mess, bits of hay sticking out everywhere. “This wasn’t exactly the entrance I had planned,” he muttered. “I can imagine.

” Arthur stood up, trying to brush off his suit, but only made it worse. “Harper, I know I ruined everything. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but you need to know you were right about me.” Right about what? I’m a coward. When the board went after you, I should have defended you.

I should have said, “You’re the most capable person I’ve ever worked with. That you saved more contracts in two months than our team did in a year.” Harper kept holding Bentley, but Arthur could tell she was listening. But instead, I got scared. Scared they’d find out you weren’t just my assistant. That you were that you are. What? Arthur. Arthur took a deep breath.

the person who reminded me what it’s like to feel something, to laugh, to not always be alone. Bentley chose that moment to make a loud snorting noise. Harper set him on the ground and he immediately waddled back over to Arthur and started chewing on the hem of his pants. “I think he likes you,” Harper said, trying not to smile. “Harper, I know I don’t have the right to ask this, but come back to the company.

To the company, to me.” Arthur got down on one knee in the straw, ignoring the pig now tugging at his tie. I want you on my team and in my life. Harper watched him for a long moment. Arthur, you hurt me a lot. I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it if you’ll let me.

And if the board tries to humiliate me again, then they’ll have to go through me first. Arthur looked her straight in the eyes. Harper, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years. Not just professionally. You make me want to be a better person. A volunteer walked past the pen just then, quietly recording the scene on her phone.

Arthur Collins, CEO of Collins and Blake, kneeling in a pig pen, declaring himself to a woman while a pig tried to destroy his thousand tie. Arthur, I know I don’t deserve another chance, but if you give me one, I promise I’ll never let anyone question your worth again. professionally or personally. Harper stayed silent, watching him.

Arthur on one knee in the straw, dirty and covered in hay with a pig attached to his tie, apologizing with more honesty than she’d ever seen in him. “Bentley, let go of the man’s tie,” she finally said. Arthur looked down and seemed to really notice the pig for the first time. “He he’s eating my tie.” “Was it an expensive tie?” “Very.” Then he has good taste. Arthur let out a real laugh.

Harper Evans, will you come back to work with me and maybe have dinner with me without pigs this time? Harper stepped closer, picked up Bentley, and looked at Arthur on one condition. Anything. Next time someone questions my competence, you defend it publicly without hesitation. Deal. And you’ll let me reorganize your office. That desk is a disaster. Considering you just watched me get tackled by a pig, I think you can do whatever you want with my desk.

Harper finally smiled. Then I accept. But first, you need a shower. You smell like a barn. Arthur looked at himself. He really was a mess. Worth it? What? Anything is worth it if it brings you back. The following Tuesday, Harper walked back into the office as if she’d never left. The only difference was her new official title.

Director of creative strategy, unanimously approved by the board after Arthur threatened to resign if they didn’t accept. The Sterling campaign was exploding. In two weeks, it had generated 3 million views, increased app downloads by 400%, and five other companies had already approached Collins and Blake asking for Harper Evans style campaigns.

The sterling numbers are in, Arthur announced, walking into Harper’s new office with a stack of reports. 15 million in new contracts this month alone. Really? Harper jumped up. Arr, that’s amazing. And we have a meeting with the Morrison Capital investors on Thursday. They want to discuss a $50 million partnership. Harper stopped celebrating. 50 million, Arthur.

That’s the biggest opportunity in the company’s history. Exactly. And you’re going to present me. Harper sank into her chair. Arthur, this is too big. What if I mess it up? You’re not going to mess it up. Arthur sat on the edge of her desk. Harper, you’ve revolutionized this company. Morrison wants to meet the mind behind the Sterling campaign. Over the next two days, they worked together preparing the presentation.

It was the first time they had truly collaborated as equals, and the dynamic was intense. No, no, no, Harper said on Wednesday night, reviewing the slides for the 10th time. This chart looks too corporate. Morrison wants innovation, not the same old thing. Harper, it’s a financial results chart.

How can it be too corporate? because it’s boring. She stood up energized. Look, instead of standard bar charts, how about we use visuals that show organic growth? Plants or waves or plants in a financial presentation? Why not? Harper gestured with excitement. Morrison invests in disruptive companies. They want to see we think differently. Arthur rubbed his temples.

Harper, you can’t turn every chart into modern art, and you can’t turn every presentation into an accounting manual. They were staring at each other now, the tension thick in the air. Arthur, you brought me back because I think differently, so let me think differently. I know that, but we also need to stay professional.

Professional doesn’t mean boring, and creative doesn’t mean reckless. They were standing very close now, both clearly frustrated and passionate about their work. The energy between them was electric. “You’re impossible,” Harper exclaimed. and you’re way too stubborn. Arthur shot back. Someone has to be since you.

Arthur cut her off by kissing her. It was unexpected, intense, full of all the tension that had built up over the past weeks. Harper was stunned for a second, then kissed him back just as passionately. When they pulled apart, they were both out of breath. “I,” Arthur began. “That was” Harper tried to speak.

They stepped back, suddenly aware of what had just happened. “That shouldn’t have.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair. “No, it definitely shouldn’t,” Harper agreed, her face flushed, though she couldn’t stop glancing at his lips. “We have a presentation to finish,” Arthur said, trying to refocus. “Yes, presentation. Focus.” Harper quickly sat down, pretending to organize papers that were already perfectly in order.

They worked in silence for the rest of the evening, but everything had changed. Every accidental touch, every glance carried a new, unexplored tension. On Thursday morning, Harper was more nervous than she’d ever been. “The presentation was at 2:00, and she had rehearsed so much she could do it in her sleep.

” “You’re ready,” Arthur said, finding her in the break room at 11. “What if they hate it? What if I freeze?” “What if, Harper?” Arthur placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re brilliant. They’re going to love it.” An hour before the presentation, Arthur got an emergency call. What? He answered tense. when? No, I need to be here for I understand. I’ll be there in 20 minutes. He hung up, clearly upset. Harper, I have a family emergency.

My mother’s in the hospital. Oh, no. Arthur, go now. But the presentation, I’ll do it on my own. Harper, it’s 50 million and I know every number, every strategy, every detail. Harper pushed him toward the door. Go take care of your mom. I’ll handle Morrison. At exactly 2:00, Harper was in the conference room with five Morrison Capital executives.

Without Arthur beside her, she felt exposed but determined. Gentlemen, thank you for being here. What I’m about to present isn’t just a partnership. It’s a revolution in how you think about marketing. Across town, Arthur was at the hospital, finding out his mother had only sprained her ankle, but insisted it was a serious emergency.

When he realized he’d been tricked into missing the presentation, he panicked, he raced back to the office like a madman. Arriving halfway through Harper’s pitch. Peeking through the conference room door, Arthur saw Harper commanding the room like a conductor.

The executives were fully engaged, asking questions, smiling, clearly impressed. “The real question, gentlemen, isn’t whether you should invest in innovation. It’s whether you can afford not to,” Harper was saying, pointing to a chart that Arthur noticed with surprise included organic visual elements that actually worked. One of the executives leaned forward.

“Miss Evans, where do you see this partnership in 5 years? I see you as pioneers of a new era of authentic marketing. I see companies lining up to work with us, and I see all of us very, very wealthy,” Harper replied with a confident smile. The room burst into laughter. Arthur felt a wave of pride so strong he had to lean against the wall.

Harper wasn’t just competent. She was exceptional and she was his. No, he corrected himself. She was his partner in every sense of the word. When the meeting ended with a handshake and promises of a contract the following week, Arthur was waiting for Harper in the hallway. “How did it go?” he asked, eager.

“They want to sign a 5-year deal. 70 million, not 50.” Arthur looked at her for a moment, then lifted her off the ground and spun her around. Harper Evans, you’re amazing. When he set her down, they stood close again, both remembering the kiss from the night before. Arthur, I know we need to talk about about what’s going on between us.

Yes, we do. But first, Arthur smiled. Let’s celebrate. You just saved our company again. Harper smiled back. We make a good team. We make a great team. And for the first time, Arthur Collins was beginning to accept that maybe, just maybe, he needed Harper Evans for more than just work. Maybe he needed her for everything.

The following Friday, after the success of the Morrison presentation, Arthur walked over to Harper’s desk with a strangely nervous look on his face. “Do you have plans tonight?” Harper looked up from her reports. “Depends. Why? I’d like to take you to dinner. Not to talk about work or campaigns or any of that. just dinner. Harper studied his face, trying to see if this was another workplace misunderstanding.

Arthur, what exactly are we talking about here? A real date between two people who care about each other. Harper’s heart sped up. A date? A date? She hesitated. Since the kiss on Wednesday, they’d been circling around a tension that was getting hard to ignore. Okay, but nothing too fancy. And if you show up in a suit, I’m leaving. Arthur smiled. I promise I’ll keep it casual.

At 8 that night, Harper rang the bell at Arthur’s apartment. When he opened the door, she almost didn’t recognize him. Dark jeans, a blue shirt with rolled up sleeves, no tie. He looked human. “Wow,” she said before she could stop herself. “Wow, what? You look like a normal person. It’s unsettling.

” Arthur laughed and stepped aside to let her in. The apartment was exactly how Harper imagined it. Elegant, minimalist, all in shades of gray and white. But something was different. Candles were scattered around the room. Soft music played in the background. And a delicious homemade smell drifted from the kitchen. “You cooked?” Harper asked, surprised.

“I tried?” Arthur looked genuinely nervous. “Rile salmon, asparagus, risoto, and a salad I managed not to burn.” Arthur Collins cooks. Who knew? YouTube is a surprisingly educational tool. They sat down at the table, and Harper immediately noticed something different. Arthur was quiet. Not in his usual controlled way, but genuinely shy.

“The food’s delicious,” she said after a few minutes of silence. “Thank you. More silence.” Harper took a sip of wine watching him. Arthur was poking at his food, clearly nervous. “Okay, what’s going on?” she finally asked. “What do you mean you You’re acting like it’s your first job interview. Relax.

” Arthur put down his fork and leaned back in the chair. Sorry, I I don’t know how to do this. Do what? This? He gestured between them. Have dinner with someone without an agenda. Talk with no specific goal. Be normal. Harper felt her heart tighten.

Arthur, you’ve had dinner with me before at the plaza, remember? With your mom. That was theater. This is real. They looked at each other for a long moment, and Harper saw a vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely showed. Okay, then let’s start over, she said, reaching across the table. Hi, I’m Harper. I like sweet coffee, bad movies, and misbehaving pigs.

Arthur took her hand, smiling for the first time that evening. Hi, Harper. I’m Arthur. I like piano. I hate parties. And apparently, I have a soft spot for women who turn my life upside down. A soft spot? Maybe more than a soft spot. The energy in the room shifted. Harper didn’t let go of his hand. Arthur. Yes. What are we doing? Honestly, I have no idea. They laughed and the tension finally melted.

The conversation flowed easily through the rest of dinner. Arthur told her about the time he tried to learn guitar and gave up after a week. Harper admitted she once dreamed of being a ballerina until she realized she had the coordination of a drunk penguin.

When they finished eating, Arthur served dessert tiramisu, which he clearly hadn’t made himself. Points for honesty. Harper laughed. My cooking skills have limits. They moved to the sofa and again silence settled between them, but this time it was filled with anticipation, not nerves. Harper watched Arthur’s profile as he swirled his wine. Can I ask you something? Of course.

What do you want from me, Arthur? The question caught him off guard. He set his glass down and looked straight at her. What do you mean? At work, we’re partners. That works. But this, she gestured between them. What is this? What are you expecting? Arthur went quiet for a long moment, as if trying to put thoughts into words he’d never spoken before.

You want complete honesty? Always. I want all of you. His voice was low, and tense. No contract, no ID badge, no walls between us. I want to wake up in the morning and see you in the kitchen making that terrible coffee you love. I want to argue with you about presentations and then kiss you right in the middle of it. I want I want to learn what it means to share a life with someone. Harper felt her breath catch.

Arthur, I’ve fallen in love with you, Harper. Completely, and I know it’s scary because I don’t know how to do this right, but I’ve fallen in love with you, too. Now it was Arthur’s turn to be speechless. But Harper went on, it scares me.

Why? Because you’ve spent 34 years building walls, and I’m afraid that when things get hard, you’ll build new ones. between us. Arthur leaned closer. Harper, look at me. She did. Those walls I built. You knocked them all down. I can’t even imagine them being there anymore. And what if you change your mind? And what if you change yours? He countered. Harper.

Love is always a risk for both of us. Love? Arthur flushed slightly. Sorry. I know that’s probably too soon to say, but it’s not too soon. Harper smiled. It’s honest. They looked at each other. the weight of those confessions hanging between them. “So, what do we do now?” Harper asked. Arthur thought for a moment. “How about we try?” he suggested. “Together.

No pressure, no timeline, no corporate goals. Just see how it goes. And if we don’t know how, then we’ll figure it out together.” Arthur smiled. But on one condition. What? This time I’m the one making coffee for you, not the other way around. Harper burst out laughing. Arthur Collins offering to make some unsweet coffee. “I never thought I’d see the day. For you, I’d learn to do anything, anything, anything.

” Harper leaned in and kissed him softly. When they pulled back, Arthur rested his forehead against hers. “So Harper whispered, “How about we start by learning how to really date? I think I can get used to that.” “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.” Best place to be. Outside New York kept up its nighttime rhythm.

But inside Arthur’s apartment, two people were discovering that sometimes the best deal in life doesn’t involve contracts or signatures. Sometimes it’s just about having the courage to say yes to the unknown and trusting that the person next to you will be there to figure it all out with you. A year later, Harper Evans had become a bit of a legend in the corporate world.

As director of creative innovation at Collins and Blake, she had revolutionized campaigns for 15 major clients and turned the firm into the most sought-after agency in New York. More important than that, she and Arthur had found they were even better as a couple than as work partners, which considering they’d tripled the company’s revenue together, was an impressive achievement.

“Harper, did you look at the speech I’m giving tonight?” Arthur asked, stepping into her office on Friday morning. The executive of the year speech. Let me guess, you’re going to talk about numbers, growth, strategies, and she paused dramatically. The bright future of Collins and Blake. It’s scary how well you know me. That’s because you’re predictable.

Herper stood up and kissed him quickly. But I love you anyway. Anyway, especially because of that. That night, the Plaza Hotel’s ballroom was filled with New York’s top executives. Arthur had been named CEO of the year for the third year in a row, and Harper sat in the front row wearing an elegant navy blue dress Arthur had picked because it matches your eyes when you laugh.

Ladies and gentlemen, the host announced, “Please welcome Arthur Collins, CEO of Collins and Blake International.” Arthur walked onto the stage, perfectly put together as always, tailored suit, hair in place, confident posture. Harper smiled, remembering the nervous man she’d met a year earlier. “Thank you,” Arthur began, adjusting the microphone.

“Receiving this award is an honor, but it wouldn’t be honest to accept it as my achievement alone,” Harper raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t in the speech she had reviewed. “Over the past year, our company has gone through a complete transformation. Not just in numbers, though those were outstanding, but in culture, in energy, in soul. The audience murmured in agreement. Harper started to wonder where Arthur was going with this.

That transformation happened because one extraordinary person joined our company and changed everything. She came in as a temporary secretary and became, well, she became my saving grace. Herper felt her face heat up. A few people in the audience started turning to look at her. Harper Evans. Arthur went on, scanning the crowd for her. You’ve taught me that leadership isn’t about control. It’s about inspiration.

That innovation comes from creative chaos, not rigid order. And that loving someone is the best business decision anyone can make. Now, everyone was looking at Harper, who was trying hard not to bolt from the room. “Arthur, what are you doing?” she whispered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

On stage, Arthur pulled a small box from his pocket. The whole audience held its breath. “Harper Evans,” Arthur said into the mic. “Would you be my partner for life?” And then he got down on one knee or tried to. His suit was so tight that when he bent his knee, there was a loud tearing sound. Off balance, he slipped a few inches on the stage carpet, still kneeling, but now looking more like someone trying a very awkward stretch.

The audience gave a mix of laughter and sympathetic O’s. “This was not part of the plan,” Arthur muttered into the microphone, still kneeling off center. “Harper couldn’t hold it in anymore. She got up from her chair and walked to the stage, laughing so hard she could barely keep her balance.

” “Are you okay?” she asked, helping him up. “My pride’s a little bruised, but the ring is still intact,” Arthur said, holding up the box. “So, what do you say? Will you marry me? Even after watching me rip my pants in public. Harper looked at him. Messy hair, torn suit, red with embarrassment, but smiling like she’d never seen before. Arthur Collins, you are the most charmingly clumsy man I’ve ever met.

Is that a yes? That’s a huge yes. The crowd burst into applause. Arthur slipped the ring, a classic, elegant solitire, onto Harper’s finger and kissed her as 300 people cheered and clapped. When they pulled apart, Harper grabbed the mic. Just so you all know, she announced he practiced this speech 15 times in the office.

Not once did he fall. Harper? Arthur protested, laughing. What can I say? She shrugged. With me and his life, even perfect plans turn into romantic comedes. The crowd laughed and clapped even louder. Two months later, on a sunny spring Saturday, Harper and Arthur got married in a small garden in Central Park.

The ceremony was exactly what you’d expect from a Harper Evans wedding. The groom arrived 5 minutes late because he forgot the rings in the car. The bride tripped on her dress walking down the aisle, but was saved by David from legal, who was also a groomsman. The afficant swallowed a bee in the middle of the vows.

Arthur’s mom cried so hard she smudged all her makeup. And Margaret Collins, who had completely fallen for Harper, spent half the ceremony laughing and the other half fanning herself with the program. Do you promise to love, honor, and put up with each other’s annoying habits until death do you part? The offician asked after finally recovering from the B incident.

I promise to put up with him checking emails during breakfast, Harper said. And I promise to put up with her reorganizing my files without asking, Arthur added. And do you promise to support each other in hard times and celebrate together in good ones? I promise to help her survive high heels, Arthur said, looking at Harper’s feet. And I promise to help him survive the stress when things don’t go as planned, Harper replied.

Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Arthur, you may kiss the bride. But try not to slip again. When Arthur kissed Harper, the guests burst into applause. Bentley, the rescue pig Harper insisted on bringing as their mascot, chose that exact moment to trot across the garden, making everyone laugh even more. “Mrs

. Collins,” Arthur whispered in Harper’s ear as they pulled apart. “Mr. Collins,” she replied, ready for a lifetime of organized chaos. “With you, I wouldn’t expect anything less.” They walked through the garden while the guests tossed rose petals, and Harper couldn’t stop laughing. A year ago, she had been a desperate secretary.

Now, she was a successful executive married to the man she loved and surrounded by people who truly cared about her. Harper, Arthur said as they reached the decorated car. “Yes, thank you for what? for showing up in my life like a whirlwind and teaching me that sometimes the best thing that can happen is when all our plans go completely off track. Harper leaned in and kissed him again.

Arrins, you have no idea what kind of adventure you’re in for you leading the way. I’m sure it’s going to be epic. And as they drove off into the future, tin cans rattling behind the car and Bentley running after the vehicle, one thing was clear. Love.