Page 1 of Ansel

1

I LOVE MY JOB

NEHA

Ihad exactly three minutes to get Ansel to his meeting on time, and I was still waiting for his damn coffee.

The line at Sterling & Co. Investments’ in-house café moved at a glacial pace, but skipping Ansel’s usual triple-shot espresso with oat milk wasn’t an option. If I walked into his office without it, he’d look at me with mild disappointmentandexpectation, as if I’d personally failed to keephisworld running smoothly. Not that he was unkind,exactly. He was just used to perfection from me.

Everyone at Sterling knew Ansel had the best executive assistant in the company, and hearing their praise always gave me a sense of accomplishment. I’d been by Ansel’s side for three years, growing with him—from director to senior director, and soon, Vice President. While I valued the work I did, what mattered even more to me was seeing Ansel succeed. He had worked tirelessly to reach this point, and I deeply admired him for it.

It didn’t hurt that he was both brilliant and effortlessly handsome. With chiseled features, sharp gray eyes that missed nothing, and dark hair that always seemed perfectly tousled, Ansel had the kind of presence that turned heads the moment he walked into a room. He carried himself with confidence. Polished?Yes. Arrogant?No. Commanding?Yes. Overbearing.No.

Even though our relationship was strictly professional and he never gave me any reason to believe his feelings for me extended beyond the office, I was madly, irrevocably, and completely in love with him.

How could you not be?

Ansel was the kind of leader who never took credit for other people’s work. He always made sure the team was recognized. He remembered the little things—how I took my coffee, and when I had a big exam for my night classes (I was working on my MBA).

He was ruthless in negotiations but patient when teaching someone new. He demanded excellence but never more than what he gave himself. Beneath his sharp wit and relentless ambition was kindness—rarely shown outright, but present in the way he stayed late to help an overwhelmed intern or the quiet “thank you” he always gave me, even on the busiest days.

I loved my bossandmy job. I had so much fun learning from Ansel. Even after I got my MBA, I intended to continue working for him, and when I mentioned it to him, he told me that he’d really like that.

“We’ll elevate your role,” he told me. “Make you a managerial-level executive assistant to help me with projects, and we can bring in someone to get us both coffee. How about that?”

That sounded awesome to me, and I was so damn grateful that Ansel was eager to grow and develop me. He’d made sure that Sterling paid for part of my MBA through their education program. Sure, I’d had to carry the rest but at least not all of it, so that had been much appreciated.

My phone pinged. I chuckled when I saw my sister Sanya’s text and a video of my eight-month-old nephew, Rohan, blowing a raspberry. I replied with a heart emoji. She responded, but that was when the barista slid the cup across the counter. So, I ignored my sister, grabbed the coffee, and weaved through the crowd as if my life depended on it—which, in a way, it did.

By the time I reached the 38th floor, the main trading floor was already buzzing with early morning energy. Phones rang. Analysts barked into headsets. The market ticked, second by second, as fortunes were made and lost.

I reached Ansel’s office and pushed the door open with my shoulder. I strode in just as he pulled on his suit jacket.

“Coffee, two minutes to spare, and the quarterly report is in your inbox.” I set his cup on the desk. “You’re welcome.”

He glanced up, amused. “Efficient as always.”

I forced a smile. If only he knew how hard it was to stand this close to him every day, breathing in his expensive cologne, watching the way his crisp white shirts stretched over his broad shoulders. But I was his assistant. The one who made sure his life ran seamlessly. The one he’d never looked at twice inthatway.

“As always,” I murmured, stepping away so he could head out for his meeting.

“Can you make sure we’re ready for my lunch meeting with Patrick?”

Patrick was the Senior Vice President of our department. He’d asked to see Ansel, which we both knew meant that they were getting ready to promote him. We’d worked hard to make this day happen, to launch him into the company's upper echelons.

“Absolutely. I have lunch booked—checked with his assistant to make sure we’ve ordered what he likes.”

Ansel tilted his head, smiling at me. “What would I do without you, Neha?”

I beamed. “Let’s hope you’ll never have to find out.”

2

JUST AN ASSISTANT

NEHA

"Congratulations, Ansel! This is incredible," I told my boss when he revealed that Patrick had indeed confirmed that his promotion was imminent. Soon, the official announcement would be made.

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