Chapter 2
I was practically floating as I left Carter Holdings.
At the elevator, Olivia was chatting with a few other candidates. The moment she saw me, she spoke up, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
She said, "Well? Didn't make it, did you? I told you—Carter Holdings isn't the kind of place just anyone can get into."
Before I could respond, the interviewer from earlier walked over and gave me a polite nod.
She said, "Ms. Sutton, Mr. Carter has arranged for someone to handle your onboarding. You can report directly to the executive office on the top floor tomorrow."
Olivia's expression froze, as if she'd just been slapped in front of everyone.
"What? Her? Why her?" she exclaimed.
The interviewer shot her a cold look. "That's Mr. Carter's decision."
Instantly, all eyes shifted from me to Olivia, the air thick with anticipation.
Oh wow. This felt amazing. I didn't even know why—it just did.
I straightened my back. For the first time, I walked past Olivia with my head held high and stepped into the elevator.
*****
The next day, I dragged myself to the executive office like I was heading to my own execution.
Ethan's office was bigger than my entire apartment. One wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the entire city.
"So what exactly am I supposed to do?" I asked quietly.
Ethan didn't even look up from the documents in his hands.
"Can you make coffee?" he asked.
"Yeah, I can," I replied.
"Go make one," he said.
I let out a small breath of relief. At least it wasn't anything weird.
I came back with the coffee just as a sharply dressed executive in a curve-hugging dress walked out. She shot me a brief, icy look as she passed.
Then her elbow clipped me—far from accidental.
The coffee spilled all over me, scalding hot, and worse, half of it splashed straight onto a file on Ethan's desk stamped urgent.
My mind went blank.
I was done for.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" I rushed out, grabbing tissues in a panic, but the more I tried to fix it, the worse it got.
The executive immediately put on a pitiful, innocent look and apologized to Ethan, "Mr. Carter, I'm so sorry. It was because I lost my footing. It has nothing to do with the new assistant."
Wow. What a performance.
My heart sank. First day on the job, and I'd already messed everything up. There was no way I wasn't getting fired.
Ethan finally looked up.
He didn't even spare the ruined file a glance. His gaze fell instead on the angry red burn across the back of my hand, his brows drawing together.
Then he turned to the executive, his eyes turning glacial.
"You're fired," he said.
Her expression cracked instantly. "Mr. Carter? Why?"
"Since when," he said evenly, "did my office become somewhere you could walk into uninvited?" His voice was quiet, but left no room for argument.
"And as for her—" his gaze flicked back to me, sharp and possessive, "you don't get to lay a hand on what's mine."
With that, he took my hand and led me straight into the private lounge attached to his office.
He opened the first aid kit, took out some burn ointment, and carefully applied it to the back of my hand with a cotton swab.
His touch was light, yet I could still feel the warmth of his fingers through it, enough to make my heart skip.
Did he just say... that I was his?
"Your shirt's soaked too," Ethan said. After tending to my hand, his gaze dropped to the front of my blouse, where a large patch was damp.
I instinctively folded my arms over myself, heat rushing to my face.
Ethan pulled out a Centurion card and pressed it into my hand.
"Go downstairs and buy the mall," he said.
What?
Was this how rich people talked? I just needed a shirt—not the entire mall.
"I mean," he added, noticing my stunned expression, "just use it. Buy whatever you want."
I stared at the Centurion card in my hand, like it might burn a hole straight through my fingers.
In the end, I went downstairs and picked out the cheapest T-shirt I could find to change into.
When I walked back into the office, Ethan was on the phone, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it.
"Grandma, I'm busy. Yeah, I recently hired an assistant. No, she's not my girlfriend," Ethan said.
He hung up, and the moment he saw me, that softness vanished. His expression turned cold again.
"Mr. Carter, your card," I said, holding it out.
He didn't take it. "From now on, you're my personal assistant," he said. "I'll take care of everything you need, including clothes, food, and a place to live."
What was this? Was this some kind of sugar daddy arrangement?
I kept my mouth shut and tucked the card away.
That afternoon, my high school group chat suddenly came alive.
The class president tagged everyone: [Hey guys, we're having a reunion this weekend to celebrate graduation! It's at the Grand Regal Hotel. Don't miss it.]
I rejected the idea immediately.
High school reunions were the last thing I wanted to attend.
That whole misunderstanding had started at our graduation party.
I was just about to come up with an excuse to get out of it when the office line rang.
"This weekend, you're coming with me to a dinner," Ethan said.
"But Mr. Carter, I already have something going on this weekend..." I started.
"It's at the Grand Regal Hotel," he cut me off. "Consider it over time. Triple pay."
I swallowed the rest of my refusal.
"Yes, Mr. Carter," I replied.
Only an idiot would turn down that kind of money.
I had no idea how coincidental things were about to get.