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“I’ll handle it,” Hayden replies.

When I first started working here and Hayden would reply like that, I worried whether he actually could handle it. But I learned quickly that he’s more than capable of controlling a meeting time. When people start to ramble, he cuts them off with surgical precision. When he says it’s time to end, the meeting ends. No debate, no argument. Just the quiet finality of his command.

The phone for Gabriel rings, and I answer it automatically. “Gabriel Laurent’s office, how may I assist you?”

While I answer, I press the intercom button on his phone three times, which will cause a slight ‘click’ each time and make the button light up every time mine is depressed. It’s a silent signal, a language of light and sound I devised to communicate without words.

As I suspected, it’s for his meeting today. Gabriel already knows about it, of course, but I came up with this little system to warn the men that whatever call they expected is actually starting. Three flashes is an expected call, five is an unexpected one, and anything over five is basically me silently yelling mayday.

Luckily I haven’t had to yell ‘mayday’ much. The men run a tight ship, so there aren’t often major fires to put out.

“Of course,” I tell the caller. “I’ll patch you right over for the meeting. He’s expecting you.”

I transfer the call and see from the phone line buttons that Gabriel has picked it up. Good. I refocus on the computers, glancing to see if anyone has emailed me.

There are a couple of emails, so I read them and quickly follow up, forwarding a couple to Ford with ‘high importance’ marked on them. Three others are addressed to Hayden, but I respond pretending to be him.

The fact is, a lot of people just want to feel special. They want to feel like they got a personal touch from the head honchos themselves. And none of my bosses have the time for that. So I pretend to be Hayden, or Gabriel, or Ford, and answer the question or send the attachment or whatever is needed.

I like to think I’ve gotten pretty good at imitating their styles. Although I’m never as rude as Hayden actually is or as cutting as Ford. Still, sometimes I get the feeling my bosses wouldn’t mind if I was.

The elevator opens a few minutes later, and a delivery courier comes over. While a lot of things are sent by email nowadays, or put into drop boxes on an external cloud server, there are some things that you just don’t trust to electronics. For that, NYC’s bike couriers are indispensable. They get us hard copies of legal contracts, business proposals, and other information from one end of town to the other alarmingly fast.

“Delivery?” the courier says, handing it over.

I double-check everything is correct and then sign off. The courier leaves, and when I open the files, a grimace pulls at my lips.

Damn it.

There’s a post-it note stuck to the files that says, Color-coded for your convenience.

I look at the jaunty little tabs sticking up from the various files, and a knot of frustration tightens in my stomach. The tabs are red and green—two colors that bleed into an indistinguishable, muddy gray for me.

I’ve managed to get through this job without mentioning my color blindness so far, and I’m not going to let today be the day that changes. When I first started working for Meridian Ventures, I spoke to our office supplier. All of our tabs are blue and yellow, which is much easier for me to handle. Every once in a while, I’ll run into red or green, and I can tell by the color that I can’t really see that it’s different, but this is the first time I’ve run into both together, and they look the exact same to me.

I exhale slowly so that it won’t look like a sigh. My bosses seem to possess some kind of sixth sense, and any time I show frustration, at least one of them materializes by my desk to ask what’s wrong.

I sort through the papers one by one, glancing through and skim-reading. Thankfully, I made it a point to know just about everything that went on at Meridian, even the stuff that was way above my paygrade. Sometimes I feel like I could do the men’s jobs for them. I memorized their speeches to the board and answers for press conferences, I understood all their legal documents, and I kept track of the market trades.

It was worth it for moments like this when knowing all of this is the only thing saving me as I sort through the documents. I sort them by urgency, adding a few observational notes on Post-its that I stick to the different files.

These are all for Gabriel, so I steel myself to take them to him. I always feel like I need an extra layer of mental armor around Gabriel—not because I’m afraid of him, but because he’s always so damn charming, and I have to remind myself he doesn’t mean it. Gabriel is flirtatious with everyone. I have yet to meet the person who didn’t fall for his charm in some way. Even if they don’t fall in love with him, they still think he’s funny and disarming.

When I get to the door and pop it open a little, I instantly hear voices. Gabriel’s accent is subtle, although I’ve heard him thicken it up a bit from time to time when wooing potential clients.

He’s focused on his computer screen, and I know he’s on a video call, so I freeze in place, waiting for him to finish up. He doesn’t mind me sitting in if he’s on a call, but he’s very strict about never, ever being interrupted mid-call. He wants the person he’s talking with to feel like they’re the center of his attention, to feel special. That’s his strength as a businessman.

Can’t really do that when your executive assistant is interrupting you with papers.

I wait while he finishes up, peeking through the crack in the door. He’s shed his jacket, his sleeves are neatly rolled up and his tie is loosened at his throat. His hair is a bit tousled, and I scrunch up my nose slightly at the sight of it. How the hell can he look messy and so completely in control at the same time? It’s almost unbearable how handsome he is.

“Of course, of course,” Gabriel finishes up. “Certainly. Au revoir.” He closes out of the call and looks up at me. “Ah, petit oiseau doux, I see you have something for me.”

He’s been calling me that nickname ever since I started working at Meridian. I asked him what it means once, and he just chuckled and told me it means “little office helper.”

“I wouldn’t be in here otherwise.” I hand over the papers.

He skims over them quickly, noting my Post-its and my tabs. “Perfect. You are, as ever, particularly helpful.”