Chapter 3 : Headaches of a CEO

Elon wakes up like he does every morning, with a pounding headache.

The doctors seem to believe it's related to his stress levels, but he has been having them for so many consistent years, that it got to a point where he can't imagine his life without them.

When he was a kid, his mother used to say that it was because he had a bad habit of staying up past his bedtime.

When he was a teenager, she said it was because he was sneaking out at night. He wasn't, of course, because what could be outside that wasn't already provided for him in his house?

So, eventually, Elon got so sick of being treated like a bad kid, he decided to act like one.

If he was already getting scolded for sneaking out, what would it hurt to see what it was like?

Of course, the worse it got at home, the more he acted out.

Before his thirteenth birthday, everything exploded when his mother found out about his father's second family. The divorce was messy, they both had the vilest lawyers that money could buy, tearing apart every aspect of their lives to put a number on it.

In the end, his mother was awarded a beach house in Spain and enough money for her to never work a day in her life again.

His father got everything else, including Elon. His precious heir couldn't be split between two places, especially not with his mother "poisoning" Elon against him.

His father remarried his mistress within days of the divorce being finalized.

She was the least materialistic person Elon had ever met before. She didn't stand out in any crowd and was a stark contrast to his own mother. He refused to think about what she and his father could possibly have to talk about.

His father never sat down and explained his reasoning as to why he had another family, but Elon could only assume it had gone something like this: an extremely wealthy man needs an heir. Wife provides one almost immediately and promptly informs him that she will never do it again. Man needs a backup plan.

He raised his second child in complete secrecy, and once his first wife was out of the way…he merged his two families like it was nothing.

Elon suddenly saw himself with a younger stepbrother, Shir, who was only three years younger than him.

He tried not to hold this against Shir, who was only ten when he was moved into the largest house he had ever seen before.

When Elon was fourteen, his life flipped upside down yet again. His father was diagnosed with late-stage cancer and was told he only had months to live. Apparently, money couldn't always buy you more time.

In those following months, Elon was put through hell. Every moment of his life was devoted to grooming him into the proper successor. He didn't eat without a lecture, and couldn't sleep without hearing his father's voice reprimanding him.

He tried not to remember the years that followed.

Elon grabs his phone to see a text from his closest friend, Stephan.

‘We still on for tonight?’

‘Same place?’ Elon responds.

He receives a thumbs-up emoji and puts his phone down.

If there’s one thing keeping Elon functioning in this world, it is Stephan. He is always a voice of reason when Elon is being stubborn and a shoulder to lean on when he is struggling.

They had known each other since the fourth grade when their fathers had arranged a work meeting and dragged their sons along to observe.

Within ten minutes, Stephan was showing Elon the best way to catch beetles in his backyard and they have been best friends since then.

Elon opens his closet to peruse through rows and rows of perfectly pressed suits.

He doesn't hesitate before throwing on one of his favorites; charcoal with a deep maroon silk lining. He pairs it with only a black shirt underneath, ignoring the section of his closet designated for ties that he had left to dust.

Metaphorically, of course.

As he finishes fastening his cufflinks, his door swings open without so much as a knock.

His head maid, Sabrina, confidently strides up to him holding a silver platter.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you should wait for me to help get you dressed?" She bats her large dark eyes at him as she sets down the platter and reveals his breakfast underneath.

Elon clears his throat. "You offer every morning. Yet, every morning I remind you that I am a grown man, fully capable of dressing himself."

"Well, of course, you are. But when you're as affluent as you are, why should you bother with it?" Sabrina leans in, smiling with fake innocence as her top button is "conveniently" popped open. Just like every morning.

Elon steps back. "Thank you, Ms. Reyes. You're excused."

She's harmless, so he tries not to let himself take it too personally. If he cuts out every person in his life that wants to sleep with him or take his money, he will be left completely alone.

While it isn't ideal, he feels confident that she will get the hint eventually, as many before her had.

She's beautiful, but vapid in a way that he knows he can't entertain for long.

Sabrina steps back, eyebrows knitting together in a brief moment of concern before she walks out, closing the door behind her.

Elon hears his phone buzz and as the screen lights up, he holds back an eye roll.

Speaking of vapid.

‘Yo, big bro! I'm coming back to the country for a few weeks, can I crash with you? Mom's out in Michigan now, and I'd rather die than have to kick it in the middle of nowhere. You don't mind, right?’

Elon texts back a simple, ‘Fine. See you soon.’

He's immediately barraged with a series of nonsensical emojis and puts his phone back in his pocket.

Shir has just turned thirty and is going through what one can only describe as a quarter-life crisis. He had spent the last three months in Ibiza, blowing through a considerable amount of his inheritance on ridiculous antics.

Elon wants to step in, but he would rather see his brother blowing money than ask him for a position in his company.

He spoiled Shir from the moment they met. He knows that Shir had never asked to be born a Dahan; they have that in common.

Shir would stumble in at any point in the night, trash a few rooms, and then leave after a few months. It was part of his routine at this point, so there was no point trying to fight it.

Elon glances down at the tray Sabrina has placed on the table. Handmade bagel with lox and topped with…caviar.

Sometimes, he worries that his kitchen staff just sit around brainstorming the most wasteful and expensive meals they could come up with to serve him. He never has the energy to tell them he doesn’t care about any of it.

He grabs the bagel and heads out to his car.

Elon tries to split his time halfway between working from home and his office. It is mostly for keeping up appearances anyway.

If he is at home too often, his employees would assume he’s a figurehead and not a real authority figure. Conversely, if he is in the office too much, people would assume something was awry.

It’s a balancing act, trading up which days he pops in so his employees always know to never get too complacent. Complacency leads to laziness.

His father had taught him that.

Dahan Tech Incorporated is truly the ultimate monument to Elon's efforts. It is unrecognizable from his father's day.

For his father, it was all about producing the most expensive models and only advertising to the one percenters. He often said he was more interested in selling luxury than anything.

Elon…has other plans in mind.

As he steps through the large glass doors, there is immediately a small mousy woman jogging in her loud kitten heels to keep up with his long stride – his new assistant whose name he can’t seem to place. She probably wouldn't last in the position for too long anyway.

"Mr. Dahan, we're so glad to see you today. You have a two o'clock meeting with Mr. Miller and—"

"I’m aware. I did set the meeting, after all."

"Oh! Of course. My mistake, Mr. Dahan. I—"

"If that's all?" Elon interrupts her again, forcing a smile and looking at his watch.

She stops abruptly, cheeks going slightly pink. "Um, that's everything. Except–" She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. "Mr. Ahmad called yesterday. He left a message for you."

And to think Elon was feeling guilty for not remembering her name.

"Yesterday." His voice is seething with ice.

"Yes?"

"You have my cell phone number, correct?" Elon rubs his eyes, slowing his voice as if he’s speaking to a toddler.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you remember when I told you that any messages should be given to me immediately?"

She nods meekly.

"And do you remember when I told you that if Atif Ahmad called me, rain, hail, or shine, you would stop everything to get it to me?"

She starts to tear up.

Elon closes his eyes. "Save it. Hand me the message and walk away."

The woman complies, the clicking of her heels echoing loudly across the entire hallway.

He looks down at the piece of paper. He will have to do some light groveling to make up for this.

After about an hour of calming ruffled feathers, he is finally able to get to his favorite part of his job: completely engrossing himself in a project that involves absolutely no speaking.

It isn't that Elon is a misanthrope, but he does feel confident that people are predisposed to disappoint each other.

Though, he can't help but wonder… There is something fascinating about that new maid of his. He has learned from his mistakes that seeing one of his employees was always a bad idea, but something about her just feels different.

It is likely that he only feels that way because she had shamelessly proclaimed that she had never heard of him before. People had said that as a joke, or a ruse to get something, but never behind his back.

She is beautiful in a way he isn't used to seeing. Something about her radiates warmth, a feeling he can't say he finds in overabundance. Her soft brown hair curls elegantly around her face, her eyebrows display every emotion on her face so strongly that he knows she must be terrible at lying.

Her eyes were what drew him in though. She looked right through him, as if every quip and smile unphased her entirely. She’s not only unimpressed but is actively looking for something to prove her right. The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to find exactly what she was searching for. It’s a kind of emotional depth he hasn’t felt from anyone in his life for years.

He has considered, however briefly, seeing how far he could take this. The thought was quickly banished.

Mia doesn’t seem like the kind of woman you can cast to the side, and there is no possibility that he can offer her anything more than a distraction from whatever plagued her, no matter how much he wants to.

Elon has never been the kind of man that cares about people’s emotional states before… Why is she different? What is it that he actually wants to do with her? He isn’t sure that he knows, and that uncertainty is starting to eat at him.

However, his internal dilemma aside, he doesn’t have to ignore her right out, does he? He is her boss, the least he can do is offer her a welcoming hand in friendship.

If he learns more about her, that comes from the purest of intentions. Or, at the very least, he can convince himself of that until she eventually moves on or his curiosity is slated.

Girls like Mia don't hang on to the wrong situation for too long. She'll let go far before Elon feels obligated to cut the rope.

He can be friends with a beautiful woman. Just because it hadn't happened before, doesn't mean it is entirely impossible.

He’s committed to his engagement, after all. Elon wouldn’t risk everything he has worked so hard to gain just for one woman, fascinating or not. His mind is made up, and any confusion clears.

At that moment, he feels his headache subside.