An Executive Offer

"Ah, Cyril, good you're here," Mrs. Crawford says, her tone a mix of relief and annoyance. "We were just discussing the... less than ideal timing of your project's completion." She gestures to the CEO, who's frowning at his phone.

"Yes, we've missed the window for maximum social media engagement," the CEO notes, looking up at Cyril with a stern expression. "This could impact our campaign's success. I'm considering revising our remote work policies to ensure this sort of delay doesn't happen again."

Cyril's heart sinks at the implication, his mind racing with the potential consequences for him and his colleagues. He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself as she steps forward to address the situation.

"I apologize for the delay, Mr Nolan," he begins, keeping her voice steady despite the tension in the room. "I understand the importance of timing in our campaigns, and I assure you it was not intentional. However, I'd like to propose a few ideas for how we can still leverage this opportunity to our advantage."

Mrs. Crawford raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by his proactive response. The CEO, meanwhile, looks intrigued, his gaze narrowing as he considers Cyril's words.

"Go on," he says, his tone gruff but encouraging. "I'm listening."

Cyril takes another deep breath, his mind whirling with strategies and potential solutions. He explains a few novel ideas of reengaging old customers, but it fell on deft ears.

Mr Nolan burrows his brows before dismissing Mrs. Crawford and inviting Cyril to sit across from him at his main desk.

As Mrs. Crawford exits the room, Mr. Nolan turns his attention back to Cyril, his expression stern and unyielding. He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he fixes her with a piercing gaze.

"Ms. Starling, let's be frank," he begins, his voice low and measured. "You've failed us on a crucial task. And to be blunt, your failure is a mere drop in the ocean of our marketing budget. We can replace you, and the impact would be negligible."

Cyril feels a pang of dread at his words, his mind racing to come up with an excuse or explanation. But before he can respond, Mr. Nolan continues, his tone laced with disappointment.

"So tell me, why did you miss this deadline? What personal errand was so important that it overshadowed your work responsibilities?"

Cyril swallows hard, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Sweat drips from his forehead, boiling his slicked back hair.

"I... I had a personal appointment I couldn't reschedule," he admits.

Mr. Nolan nods, his expression softening slightly. "I understand that life can be unpredictable, but you know better than to let personal matters interfere with your work. Yes, we allow people to be flexible with their hours but this was an important task. You compromised your priorities, and it shows in the result."

He pauses, his gaze drifting to Cyril's attire before returning to his face. Cyril follows his gaze, realizing the implications of his badly put together office wear. He feels a flutter of self-consciousness as he speaks again, his tone now tinged with annoyance.

"And while we're on the subject of appearances, let's talk about your... lack of a tie. You look ridiculous, Ms. Starling. It's unprofessional, and it reflects poorly on the company." Mr. Nolan readjusts his own suit jacket as if making a statement.

Cyril bites his lip, feeling a surge of embarrassment as she meets his critical gaze. He knows he should have dressed more appropriately for the meeting, and risking wearing what he is underneath was a terrible idea in hindsight. But he just can't help it. It doesn't feel right to not have them on! But missing a tie was probably not the smartest thing to do.

"Mr. Nolan sir… um sir, I apologize for the oversight," he says, his voice trembling slightly. "I'll make sure to wear a tie next time."

Mr. Nolan nods, a hint of approval in his eyes. "See that you do. Now, get out of here and come back when you have a solid plan to salvage this situation. And Cyril?"

She looks up at him, his heart pounding in her chest. "Yes, Mr. Nolan?"

"Unbutton that top collar. You look like a schoolboy trying to pass as a grown man."

Cyril's cheeks flush even deeper as he obeys, the sound of the button popping open a stark contrast to the heavy silence that fills the room. He rises from his seat, his movements stiff and awkward, and makes his way towards the door, feeling like a chastised child in the presence of the towering, impeccably dressed CEO.

Cyril's heart skips a beat as he tries to smooth out the fabric of his shirt, which was now damp with sweat, attempting to conceal the telltale strap of his bralette. But the damp material clings stubbornly to his skin, revealing the slightest hint of the delicate line where the undergarment meets his shoulder. He continues towards the door.

As he reaches the door, he feels Mr. Nolan's gaze on him, his eyes lingering on his shoulder. For a moment, he freezes, his breath catching in his throat. Then, to his surprise, Mr. Nolan's demeanor shifts. The sternness fades, replaced by a hint of curiosity and something else he can't quite put her finger on.

"Ms. Starling," he says, his voice taking on a softer tone, "I've reviewed every employee's profile and progress. I take great care to ensure each of you operates at your peak performance."

Cyril's mind races as she tries to process his words. He knows he's been struggling to keep up, and the thought of Mr. Nolan scrutinizing her specifically makes his stomach twist with anxiety.

"And it's my attention to detail that's led this company to success," he continues, his eyes never leaving Cyril. "So when I notice something... intriguing, I can't help but investigate further."

He pauses, a small smile playing on his lips as he gestures to the strap of his bralette that is unmistakable through the sweat patched part of his shirt. Cyril's cheeks flush a deep crimson, his body instinctively reacting to the intense scrutiny.

"Care to explain that, Ms. Starling?" he asks, his tone gentle but expectant. “Not that it's any of my concern, dress how you want. But even the… women here know how to appear decent.”

Cyril swallows hard, his mind racing for a response. He knows he can't lie, not to him. But the truth... it's embarrassing. ****.

"Mr. Nolan, I... I need to be honest with you," his begins, her voice trembling slightly. "This job, these past three years... they've been a journey of self-discovery for me. A chance to embrace a part of myself I never thought I could."

He pauses, his heart racing as he looks up at Mr. Nolan. "I've been more in touch with my… feminine side. It was just a thought many years ago, but I feel that there is some comfort and truth in presenting that way."

Cyril's cheeks burn with embarrassment as he confesses her secret, the words spilling out in a rush. "And it doesn't affect my work, I swear. I'm just as dedicated, just as capable. But... but please, sir, this has to stay between us. I don't want anyone to know!."

He looks up at him pleadingly, his eyes wide and ****. Cyril knows he's taking a risk, exposing this to his boss. But something in Mr. Nolan's expression tells him that he might understand. That he might even see value in his unique perspective, his willingness to be different.

Mr. Nolan nods, his expression softening. "We didn't hire you for your looks, Cyril. We hired you because of your skills, your dedication, your unique perspective. Those are the qualities that make you valuable to this company, not some societal expectation of what a woman or man should be. Besides, we work on perfecting the human gene, who's to say yours lie the way that they do now?”

His words resonate deep within him, striking a chord he never knew existed. For the first time in his life, Cyril feels seen, truly understood.

"And that's why I want you to work personally with me, as my PA," he continues, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I believe you may have insights that your lifestyle has given you, and I'd love a first hand take on them "

Cyril's mind reels as she processes his offer, a mix of fear and anticipation washing over him. He's never imagined a future like this, one where he can be his authentic self, without the need for masks or pretenses.

"I... I don't know what to say, Mr. Nolan” he stammers, his heart pounding in his chest. "This is... it's a lot to take in."

Mr. Nolan's expression turns understanding, almost gentle. "I know it's a lot, Cyril. But think of it as a promotion, both for your career and your peace of mind. No one will know of your secret as per your request, but in return I believe you should embrace it.”

Cyril's face flushes red. “Embrace it?”

“Yes. I trust you've had enough time to develop your feminine side to warrant a name?” he asks Cyril.

“Well I” he stammers. “Cynthia.”

“Cynthia it is, then.”

The weight of his words settles upon her, and for the first time in years, Cynthia feels a sense of relief wash over her. She's tired of living in the shadows, tired of hiding who she thinks she is.

"Okay," she says finally, her voice steady. "Okay, I'll do it. I'll work with you, as Cynthia. But... but please, sir, promise me you won't tell anyone else. I can't handle the scrutiny, the judgement."

Mr. Nolan's smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I promise, Cynthia. Your secret is safe with me. For all intents and purposes I would have ‘Cyril' sacked, and I'll make an executive decision to hire a PA on the grounds that I need to be on top of this business a lot more to prevent any further mishaps. Now, let's get to work, shall we?"

Cynthia nods, a sense of excitement and trepidation mingling in her chest.

Before she could walk out the door, Mr. Nolan calls put to her. “And Cynthia! Do you have more appropriately office wear?”

Cynthia thinks for a moment, noting her wardrobe hasn't accounted for such things. “I'm… afraid not Mr. Nolan.”

“Hmm, you must be a size 10 easily… Not to worry then. I'll have something delivered to your home later today. Consider that your new attire, a welcome gift from NexGenetics.”