Chapter Two: Fire Meets Ice

Theodore Thornton believed in precision. Every minute of his day was meticulously scheduled, down to the second. He didn't tolerate delays. He didn't accept excuses. And he certainly didn't allow chaos.

Which is why, at exactly 8:00 a.m. the next morning, he sat at his desk, waiting to see if Evelyn Winterborne would show up on time or flake out like the disaster he suspected she was.

At 8:01, the elevator chimed.

At 8:02, she burst through the glass doors with an iced coffee in one hand and a breakfast burrito in the other.

"Good morning, Satan," she chirped brightly, brushing past his stunned receptionist. "Did you miss me?"

Theodore stared at her. "You're late."

"By a minute," she countered, unbothered. "Relax, I brought a burrito the size of your ego. Want half?"

He looked down at his custom meal plan—steel-cut oats, chia seeds, exactly five almonds. "No."

"Didn't think so." She took a bite and hummed. "God, this is better than sex. Well, better than bad sex."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have any concept of professionalism?"

"I do," she said cheerfully. "I just choose to ignore it."

He was about to reply when his phone buzzed.

Meeting with Dreyson Industries: 9:00 a.m., Conference Room B.

He frowned. "You moved the Dreyson meeting from 2:00 to 9:00?"

"Yep. Figured it was better to get it out of the way before your soul fully iced over for the day."

"Did you confirm that with them?"

"Sure did. Spoke with a guy named Trevor. Sounded like he had a man bun and a superiority complex, but he said 9:00 was fine."

Theodore wasn't sure if he wanted to murder her or give her a raise. "Do not reschedule high-priority meetings without consulting me first."

She raised a brow. "You said if I was still standing by Friday, you'd consider keeping me. I took that as 'run this place like a boss.'"

"It wasn't."

"Well, communication is key, Teddy."

He glared at her. "Don't. Call me. Teddy."

She winked. "Noted."

9:00 a.m. – Conference Room B

Trevor from Dreyson Industries was not happy.

In fact, he looked one passive-aggressive eye roll away from combusting.

"This is highly unorthodox," he snapped, adjusting his Rolex and shooting Evelyn a withering look. "We had prepared for a 2:00 meeting. This rushed change was... inconvenient."

Evelyn sat at the end of the table, legs crossed, twirling a pen between her fingers. "Well, Trevor, life's inconvenient. Like rush hour. Or adult acne. You'll survive."

Theodore's head whipped toward her so fast his neck cracked.

Trevor's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

She leaned forward, not missing a beat. "Look, I called your office. You confirmed. If you weren't ready, maybe you should've said so instead of pretending to be Mr. Flexible and then throwing a tantrum when it didn't suit you."

Trevor turned purple.

Theodore looked down at the table and bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. He couldn't lose this deal. Dreyson Industries was a crucial partner in a real estate merger, and they were notoriously sensitive.

"I apologize for the confusion," Theodore cut in smoothly. "There must have been a miscommunication. Ms. Winterborne is new."

"Clearly," Trevor snapped.

Evelyn smiled sweetly. "But fabulous, right?"

Theodore was about to lunge across the table and drag her out by her damn boots.

Instead, he turned on the full force of his CEO charm, salvaged the meeting with clinical precision, and closed the conversation in twenty minutes flat.

As Trevor left the room, visibly ruffled, Evelyn popped a piece of gum into her mouth and said, "I don't like that guy. He gives off 'fake woke' energy."

Theodore rounded on her. "You just insulted a multi-million dollar client in front of me."

"I didn't insult him. I pointed out that he's emotionally constipated. Huge difference."

"You don't speak in meetings unless spoken to."

"You didn't say that yesterday."

"It was implied."

She held up her hands. "Fine. No more freelance commentary during corporate diplomacy. Got it."

He stormed out of the conference room, and she followed with a cheerful, "Where to next, bossman?"

Back in the office

To Theodore's complete sanity, the rest of the morning ran smoothly.

His 10:30 call was patched through seamlessly. His legal files for the Anderson merger were already printed and highlighted. His protein smoothie had been delivered without sugar, exactly as he liked it.

Evelyn even kicked a pushy junior exec out of his office without Theodore having to lift a finger.

"You scheduled two interviews for the senior analyst spot this afternoon," she said, reading off a tablet while perched on the armrest of a leather chair in his office. "One of them has a face that screams 'trust fund baby.' The other's resume had four typos."

Theodore glanced up. "You went through their files?"

"Sure did. What's the point of an assistant if I'm not screening your future minions?"

He stared at her.

She blinked. "What?"

"You're efficient."

She grinned. "Was that... almost a compliment?"

"No."

"It was. Admit it."

He turned back to his laptop. "You rescheduled my lunch with Parker Linhart. Why?"

"Because he double-booked himself. He had a charity gala planning meeting. I got him to push that instead."

"How?"

"I threatened to tell his wife about the blonde he was flirting with at last week's networking event."

Theodore sat back. "You blackmailed a billionaire philanthropist."

"Lightly. More like a gentle extortion. Like a nudge."

He stared at her, unsure if he wanted to strangle her or nominate her for employee of the month.

Later that afternoon

Theodore had forgotten one thing: Evelyn Winterborne was a walking paradox.

At 3:00 p.m., she sent an email to a supplier that ended with "Cheers, bitches." At 3:17, she accidentally scheduled two meetings in the same conference room, causing a near fistfight between legal and HR. At 3:45, she corrected it by sending cupcakes to both departments with notes that said, "Sorry for the chaos. Sugar makes everything better."

At 4:00, she informed Theodore he had a call with a potential investor in fifteen minutes.

"Who is it?" he asked, scanning the schedule.

"Some guy named Laurent. French. Smelled like expensive sin the last time I talked to him on the phone."

Theodore blinked. "You talked to him?"

"Yeah. He asked if you were the 'tall one with the voice of God.' I said yes."

He gave her a long, exhausted look. "You're going to get me sued."

"Nah. They'd miss you too much."

6:00 p.m.

By the end of the day, Theodore was exhausted.

Which was saying something, because he hadn't been mentally tired in years. Usually, he ended the day with calm satisfaction, knowing he'd bulldozed his way through another 18-hour stretch of corporate warfare.

But Evelyn Winterborne was not part of any strategic playbook he understood.

She was chaos wrapped in bubblegum. Fire hidden beneath sarcasm. And for reasons he couldn't articulate, she made him feel—

Unsettled.

Alive.

Infuriated.

He wasn't sure if that was progress or a stroke waiting to happen.

She poked her head into his office. "Hey. I organized your folders by client instead of quarter. Made more sense to me. Oh, and I accidentally deleted an email thread with your mother, but honestly, she sounded like a lot."

Theodore closed his laptop with a snap.

"Anything else?" he asked tightly.

She considered. "Yeah. Your espresso machine's broken. I called the guy. He'll be here tomorrow. Also, you should eat something that isn't green sludge. You're getting a little pale."

"I'm always pale."

"Well, now you're pale and moody. That's a dangerous combo."

He leaned back, eyes closed. "Evelyn, go home."

She smirked. "You gonna miss me?"

He opened one eye. "Like a migraine."

She winked. "See you tomorrow, Teddy."

"Don't—"

"Too late."

She shut the door behind her.

And for a long moment, Theodore sat in silence, staring at the closed door, wondering—what the actual hell had he hired?