Valentina's laptop chimed with a new email first thing in the morning. The sender: Valecorps Pvt Ltd — Salary Credit Notification.
She clicked it, expecting the usual small deposit. And then she froze.
What…
Her eyes darted over the number again. One month's salary from Adrian's company. Enough to make her previous three jobs combined look like pocket change. She threw her head back and laughed. Maniacal, triumphant, disbelief laced through her voice.
A bitter laugh. A billionaire, huh? she muttered to herself. And somehow… I deserved this.
She shook her head, still grinning. I organized his life, survived his hours, kept every little thing perfect. I deserve this. I totally deserve this.
The laughter subsided into a smirk, and she straightened her back, imagining herself walking into the office tomorrow, every bit the capable, confident assistant of a billionaire.
---
Next day, Valentina stepped into the Valecorps lobby like she owned the room. Her new formal suit hugged her perfectly, sleek heels clicking against the polished floor. Hair smooth, makeup subtle but sharp, nails immaculate—every detail screamed precision.
She passed the receptionist with a quiet nod, adjusting her blazer, aware of the curious eyes following her.
Valentina stepped into the Valecorps elevator, heels clicking against the polished floor, heart still racing from the thought of her salary. The doors slid shut, and she barely registered the soft ding as Adrian stepped in behind her, tall and silent as ever.
"Morning," he said, voice low, controlled. His eyes flicked to her just a fraction longer than necessary. She straightened instinctively, aware of the way her blazer hugged her waist, the subtle curve of her silhouette in the tailored suit.
"You look… well-groomed," he added, the faintest edge of appraisal in his tone. Valentina felt heat crawl up her neck.
"Th-thank you, sir," she murmured, fumbling slightly with her bag strap. The elevator ride felt impossibly long. His gaze didn't leave her, and she caught herself wondering if he noticed every little detail—the careful placement of her hair, the polished shoes, the subtle perfume.
When the doors opened, he stepped out first, then glanced back at her, expression unreadable. Just that fraction of a second, that cold yet measuring look, made her heart stutter.
She walked to her desk, trying to shake off the sudden warmth in her cheeks. That's when she overheard Camille and a few colleagues in the open lounge, voices just loud enough to drift her way:
"…did you see her yesterday at the meeting? Acting like she belongs here…"
"…billionaire's fiancée. Still can't believe she's that new and… cocky."
"…heard she's sleeping with the CEO or blackmailing him or something… pathetic."
Valentina froze, gripping the edge of her desk. Breathe. Ignore them. They're just jealous. She forced a small, bitter smile, pretending the whispers didn't sting.
The office hummed around her, every glance from her colleagues now feeling loaded. Even small actions—passing a pen, dropping a file—felt magnified under their scrutiny. Adrian, seated at his desk across the room, seemed unaffected by the murmurs. Cold. Sharp. Observing.
Her mind raced: Maybe I don't belong here. Maybe I'm just… a girl playing a billionaire's assistant. She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and returned to scheduling his meetings. Professional. Efficient. She couldn't let them see her falter.
Every once in a while, her gaze flicked toward Adrian. He didn't look at her for long, but the moments he did made her pulse skip. Cold, distant… but there. Even if he doesn't say it, he notices. He always notices.
By the time the morning ended, Valentina's nerves were frayed, but her resolve hardened. She'd earned her spot here, salary or no salary. And if they thought they could make her doubt it, they were wrong.
The office was quiet now, the glow of city lights spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Valentina stacked the last of the files, her thoughts still tangled in the day's tension and the whispers she'd overheard. Her phone buzzed.
"Get ready. Tomorrow's business meeting. Not just as my assistant. As my fiancée. Investors need reassurance that past… scandals are behind us."
Her fingers froze. Fiancée. And assistant. Both at once. The words hit harder than she expected. Wait… scandals? A faint chill ran through her. She remembered the contract—signed in a hurry, vague clauses she hadn't fully understood at the time. Now it made sense why everything had been so… sudden.
She reread the message, heart thumping. The stakes had shifted. She wasn't just keeping his schedule anymore—she was part of the image, the proof to investors that nothing in the past could touch him. And she had to be convincing.
Her lips curved in a nervous, wry smile. A billionaire's fiancée… and assistant. Me. Who actually knows what I'm doing.
Another buzz:
"Dress sharp. Be ready. Don't disappoint."
She shivered. The message was cold, commanding—but heavier now, charged with expectation. She wasn't just a worker; she was part of his world, part of the reassurance he needed to project.
Valentina sank into her chair for a moment, thinking about the sudden weight of it all. So that's why the contract was rushed… a scandal. I barely know the details. And now I'm supposed to… prove it's over. Great.
Her pulse raced as she imagined tomorrow. I'll be in the same room as Adrian, his fiancée and assistant, and everyone will be watching… including him. And he's still that infuriating mix of cold and… dangerously hot.
A soft laugh escaped her. God, this billionaire life is exhausting. And apparently, I'm only just beginning.
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