Page 3 of His Demands

He leans in, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "I hired you because I thought you could handle the pressure. Don't prove me wrong."

With that parting shot, he strides away, leaving me feeling about two inches tall.

It's moments like these that I question my life choices.

Anger and frustration bubble up inside me like a shaken soda bottle, threatening to explode. But I refuse to cry, refuse to show any weakness in this high-stakes game of corporate chess.

Instead, I channel all that emotion into finishing the paperwork, my fingers flying over the keyboard like a pianist in the midst of a frenzied solo.

Feeling like I could blow up any minute.

Finally, with the printouts in hand, I march to Ivan's office.

I drop the papers onto his desk with a deliberate thump, watching them scatter forcefully.

He looks up, his expression unreadable as the papers flutter across his desk.

"That’s everything you asked for," I announce, my voice quivering with a storm of suppressed fury. "Now if you don’t mind, I’m clocking out for the rest of the day." The words hang between us, a bold line drawn after a day where every ounce of my patience was tested.

For a moment, Ivan only watches me, his dark eyes giving nothing away.

It's infuriating, like shouting into a void and waiting for an echo that never comes.

Ivan finally breaks the tense silence, his voice as steady and composed as ever, betraying no sign of irritation or amusement. "Miss Goodacre, you’re free to leave," he says, his tone embodying the very essence of professional detachment he has practically made as his signature.

I quietly leave his office, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest.

I gather my things, pretending to be calm, my hands shaking as I shove my laptop into my bag.

I could totally be fired tomorrow. Fuck it.

I don't look back as I leave, the doors closing behind me with a finality that feels oddly satisfying.

The cool air hits my face, and I take a deep breath, trying to let go of the anger and the frustration.

As I walk, my mind keeps replaying the scene in Ivan's office.

That unreadable look in his eyes, was it indifference or something else?

Chapter 2

Julie

Oh fuck. What have I done?

The moment I stepped outside Stepanov Holdings, the fiery anger starts to dissipate, replaced by a creeping sense of regret.

Do better Julie.

This job is supposed to be my golden ticket.

The paycheck is the stuff of daydreams, capable of turning visions into reality.

In just two more years of playing assistant, I could save enough to launch Goodacre Cares, the nonprofit I've been dreaming of since forever. Named in honor of my mother.

She didn’t die in vain.

I’d make damn sure of that.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com