As promised, I stood beside Lia at exactly 9 a.m., my heart thrumming like a warning bell beneath my skin. The room was polished, quiet, and tense. I smoothed the hem of my dress—just as the door opened with a subtle click.
A tall, impeccably dressed man stepped inside, black coat brushing behind him, dark specs resting confidently on his nose. His gaze found me instantly. It started at my face, traveled down my body, and paused—too long—at my breasts.
He caught himself, looked away with guilt barely veiled behind a sheepish smirk.
"Erica, meet Benedict Reel," Lia said, her tone cool but amused. "Mr. Ezel's close friend and lawyer."
"And she must be the infamous Erica." His voice was smooth, with a lilt that made my skin tighten. "Pleasure."
He offered his hand, but instead of a simple shake, he held mine a little too long—his thumb brushing my knuckles in slow motion. His fingers lingered, like he was imagining what else they could do. When he finally let go, I exhaled.
I didn't like that touch.
Before I could retreat into my thoughts, the door opened again.
Another man entered—golden-haired, sun-kissed, muscle-bound. His aura screamed confidence and Greek god energy. His eyes landed on me like a hot whisper against skin.
"Isn't Erica too young for this job?" he asked, he seemed really concerned about me .
Benedict smirked. "Exactly what I was saying. I mean, sure, she's got that body—young, juicy—but she's just eighteen…"
"I think you should keep your opinions to yourself." The voice sliced through the room like silk over steel.
The man who walked in last was different.
Tall, dark, devastating.
Hair black as ink, eyes darker still. His jawline was sin carved by the devil himself, and the way his suit molded to his broad frame made my knees threaten betrayal. His presence was cold and powerful, yet magnetic.
'Is that… is that him? Ezel Evans?'
He didn't look at me right away. He didn't have to. His energy already wrapped around my throat.
"Ezel," Benedict started, stammering, "I didn't mean—"
"Cut it, Benedict," Ezel said, barely sparing him a glance. "Explain the rules to Miss Madden. "—he nodded at the golden god—" Max let's talk about something outside."
They both exited, leaving behind a silence that pressed into me like warm hands.
Benedict straightened, cleared his throat.
"To begin, Miss Erica Madden, as Mr. Evans's personal assistant… you'll be required to stay with him. Twenty-four hours. Seven days a week."
I blinked. "What?"
Lia nodded calmly, as if it was nothing.
"But—" I started to protest, heart racing.
"The second rule," Benedict continued, eyes flicking to my chest, "Mr. Evans will decide what you wear. Day and night."
I stared at him, mouth slightly open. Was I hearing this right?
He continued listing rule after rule, each one stranger than the last. My thoughts blurred with heat and confusion.
This wasn't just about being a secretary. This was… something else.
When the room finally cleared out, I was alone with my thoughts.
Why do these rules feel more like dominance than professionalism? Why does it feel like I'm agreeing to be owned?
My voice slipped out into the room. "Is this even a job… or a submission contract?"
"You should accept it," Lia said, stepping in quietly, as if she'd heard everything.
I turned sharply. "Huh?"
She sat beside me, tone softer now. "Mr. Evans knows about you—your background, the risks you took. The reason for the 24/7 clause? It's not about control. It's protection. You're in a new country, Erica. Vulnerable. He's giving you shelter, not just a job."
"But the rules—"
"I won't lie, they're… intense. But I've worked with him long enough to know he doesn't make these decisions lightly. And I promise you," she said with conviction, "he has no intention of hurting you."
I didn't answer. My mind was still tangled in uncertainty. Until—
She showed me her phone. My jaw dropped.
"This is the salary?" I asked.
"Per month," she replied with a wink.
I nearly choked. "Are you serious?!"
"Very. It's a demanding job, Erica. But he pays fairly. If you can handle the responsibility... and his energy..."
I swallowed. I wasn't sure if it was the security, the money, or the dark thrill of imagining Mr. Ezel in a room with just me—but my answer came out strong.
"I agree to the terms."