Clara had been on the job for only two days, but it already felt like she'd been pulled into a storm. Adrian's world was relentless constant interviews, rehearsals, paparazzi lurking on every corner. She barely had time to catch her breath before the next demand fell into her lap.
And today, it was a charity gala.
The ballroom shimmered with chandeliers and golden décor, a sea of glittering gowns and tuxedos. Reporters lined the red carpet outside, their cameras flashing as celebrities strutted past. Clara had never attended an event like this in her life. She smoothed her modest dress and adjusted the lanyard around her neck. She wasn't here to dazzle, just to keep Adrian on schedule and make sure he didn't explode at the wrong person.
Adrian, of course, looked effortlessly magnetic. His tailored black suit clung to him perfectly, his confidence radiating like it belonged to the room itself. As he stepped onto the red carpet, fans screamed his name, and cameras clicked in rapid succession. Clara walked behind him, quietly checking his notes.
"Stay close," he murmured without looking back. "I don't have time to chase after you."
She bit back a retort and focused on the clipboard in her hands. His speech notes, time slots, donor names it was all perfectly organized. Or so she thought.
When Adrian finally took the stage later that evening, the audience hushed. He began his speech smoothly, his voice commanding. But when he reached the part about thanking sponsors, Clara froze in horror.
The name on her list was wrong.
Adrian glanced down at the card she had handed him earlier, reading aloud confidently until the sponsor's wife, sitting in the front row, shifted uncomfortably. The sponsor leaned in, whispering something to his neighbor. Clara's stomach sank.
She had written Jonathan Pierce instead of Jordan Pierce.
The room rippled with murmurs. Adrian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he finished the speech without missing a beat. Applause followed, but Clara knew she had made a mistake one that mattered in his world.
Backstage, the air between them was razor-sharp. Adrian rounded on her, his gray eyes blazing.
"Do you have any idea what you just did?" His voice was low, controlled, but dangerous.
Clara swallowed hard. "I.. It was a slip. Just one letter. I didn't"
"One letter?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "One letter is the difference between respect and insult in this business. Sponsors keep careers alive. You think they'll forget this?"
Clara's cheeks burned. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"Sorry doesn't cut it." His tone was cutting, but there was something else beneath it a flicker of disappointment that stung more than his anger.
Clara met his gaze, forcing herself not to shrink back. "I'm not perfect, Adrian. I made a mistake. But I also got you here on time, prepped your interviews, and kept you from walking into three reporters who wanted to ambush you this morning. So forgive me if I don't crumble over a mispronounced name."
The silence that followed was heavy, charged. Adrian stared at her, and for a brief moment, his anger wavered. His lips pressed into a line, but his eyes those stormy eyes shifted, almost softening.
Then, unexpectedly, he chuckled. It wasn't a pleasant laugh, more like disbelief. "You're either the bravest assistant I've ever had… or the dumbest."
Clara folded her arms. "Maybe I'm just the only one who isn't afraid of you."
That caught him off guard. His smirk faltered, replaced by something she couldn't quite name.
Before he could reply, another celebrity passed by, offering Adrian congratulations. He slipped his mask back on instantly, flashing his signature grin. But as he walked away, he glanced at Clara over his shoulder.
And in that look, she saw it: not just annoyance, but curiosity.
For the first time, Adrian Cole wasn't sure if he wanted to fire her… or figure her out.