A/N: Hello everyone! As you can see, I have a new story, and it really could not be more different from The Guests of Pemberley House (which I am working on an update for right now, I swear). I decided to go modern on all of you, as I've seen so many of these kind of fictions lately and they have grabbed my interest. I hope this one is to your liking! The prologue is rather dull, I know; I merely needed to get Elizabeth in that insufferable Darcy's office. I hope you enjoy and more should be coming soon. :)

Prologue - First Impressions

I could feel my stomach turn nervously as I stood there in the scorching hot shower and mentally reviewed my resume. The shower usually was calming for me, but today even the thick steam that surrounded me was not enough to ease my anxious mind.

I stuck my head around the shower curtain to take a peek at the alarm clock that was on my sink next to my nail polish and toothpaste. The purpose of this alarm clock was to monitor the length of my showers, which were notoriously long.

It was 5:29. I sighed in an attempt to calm myself. In exactly 91 minutes, I would be beckoned into the office of one of the most prestigious law firms in New York to interview for the position of secretary to one of their most skilled lawyers. Usually, things like this didn't scare me. I was naturally very smart and good with people, which provided for good interviewing skills. But I was uncomfortable being in a place where I didn't know how to behave.

And I didn't. I had absolutely no idea how a secretary to a highly respected New York City lawyer should act. I grew up in the country, outside of the little town of Meryton, Iowa, but left home at age 18 to go to Columbia. Back in Meryton, I had only worked as a waitress at Lucas Lodge, the diner where all the truck drivers stopped. And even then, I hadn't had to go through the awkward I-don't-know-what-to-do phase of a job—my friend Charlotte, whose parents owned the place, had me trained before I was officially hired one night when I was sleeping over at her house. In New York, I hadn't had a single job; my father had insisted that I focus on my studies.

But now I was done with college, and was learning the hard way something that I had been told thousands of times before: it is nearly impossible to make it as a creative writer. The Columbia diploma doesn't take away from this fact at all.

Still, I was determined. But if I wanted to make it as a writer, I needed another job…another high-paying job…and quickly.

I took a second to calm myself before turning the water off and grabbing a towel. I was going to need to have all of my wits about me today.

The fact that the office was on the 85th floor of the Empire State Building did nothing to calm my nerves. I remembered being in this very lobby sixteen years prior with my older sister Jane and my Dad, who had taken the two of us on a business trip with him so that we could "witness for ourselves the wonders of New York." My Dad had loved to travel, in his day, but these days vacations meant lots of time cooped up with my mother and three crazy teenage sisters, so they generally tended to stay at home.

People were everywhere in the lobby, all dressed in ties and skirts with briefcases at their sides. I looked down at my own apparel with approval—a white silk shirt of Jane's was tucked into a high wasted black skirt with black stockings and heels and a necklace of black pearls. It was sophisticated but not too formal, flattering but not provocative. So far I was doing okay.

I entered a very crowded elevator, filled mainly with men that seemed completely fine with the close proximity, as it was perfect for stealing glances or standing just a little bit closer than necessary. I rolled my eyes and was quite relieved when I was the only one who got off on the 85th floor—it would be mightily awkward to work alongside a man whose first encounter with me involved wordlessly sneaking glances at my chest.

I looked upon the reception area with an air of annoyance. It was exceedingly fashionable and modern, totally minimalist and all clean cut lines. It would have impressed most, I was sure, but the style didn't appeal to me. It was most inefficient for storage and practicality and was just about the least welcoming environment I could imagine. Its only purpose was to impress, and I found it ridiculous.

The receptionist greeted me happily and kindly.

"Elizabeth Bennet? Oh, right, you are the last to interview for the open secretary position—just go through that door over there. Mr. Hurst, our Chief of Staff, is waiting for you." She pointed to a door on the left with a smile.

"Thank you," I said, the feeling of unease deep in my chest.

An hour later, I sat at my new desk, my feelings a mix of happiness at receiving the job so quickly and anticipation at meeting my boss. From the way Mr. Hurst had described the job, I was less of a secretary and more of a personal assistant, attending to my employer's every need. I was anxious to see the man that I would be spending most of my time here with.

I surveyed the room around me. My boss's office, meaning my office, his own personal conference room, and his own personal office, was decorated in tastes much more to my liking. The sleek modern style was gone, replaced by deep mahogany desks, and tall, full bookshelves.

Quite suddenly, the door opened, and a tall, very, very handsome man with shocking blue eyes and dark hair entered the room.

I stood up quickly and introduced myself.

"I'm Ellie Bennet, your new secretary. Pleased to meet you, Sir." Mr. Darcy simply looked at me disdainfully before walking forward, throwing his coat on my desk, and retreating to his office.

What had I gotten myself into?