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Being strong-willed and obnoxious with someone like Reese is easy. Guys like that spend their childhoods dreaming of being some kind of mob boss or demon slayer to make up for the years spent feeling lesser than by bullies. Reese’s connections and power and propensity for violence couldn’t compensate for the fact that, at his core, he’s a sniveling brat.
Lucas is the opposite kind of man, opposite in every conceivable way. He doesn’t have to put on creepy airs or beat people up to prove how strong he is. Everybody already knows the second he walks into a room, before they even hear his name. He’s the biggest name in a town full of big names, the person the A-listers listen to, the producer’s producer. My stomach twists in nervous, painful knots.
I’m almost as different from Lucas as he is from Reese, although in a different way. He’s grace and beauty and power personified, and I’m… well…not. I look okay, with my dark auburn hair, gentle curves, and green eyes, but I’m not going to be the next top supermodel. I don’t have connections—well, I guess I do now. Lucas Hale is one hell of a connection, but I’m not sure it’s one I want to have.
As I’m staring at my reflection and chewing on my bottom lip, my phone pings with a text from my sister.
CASSIDY: I really wish you’d reconsider. This is creepy. Who the hell calls your job and quits for you? Seems like a huge control freak. You’re going to be miserable working for him. What if he’s a stalker or something?
I wince at that. Yeah, that was really freaking creepy. After I finished dropping the money off yesterday, I went over to Cassidy’s to tell her how it all went down. Halfway through, I realized that I needed to call the restaurant and let them know that I wouldn’t be coming back… only to find that Lucas had already made the call to Rinata and informed Angela of my new employment situation.
ME: Natural consequences. I fucked up by bringing Jason into our lives. I fucked up a few more times while managing that fuck up, and here we are. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.
She must be sitting there watching the phone, because she texts back almost instantly.
CASSIDY: Will you stop playing the martyr? This is serious! He could be a psycho. He could have hired you just so he could punish you up close and personal. Did you even fill out paperwork? Did you talk to HR? Are you just taking his word on this?
Those are all extremely good questions that I never really stopped to consider because there wasn’t any point in it. There was nothing to debate. It was either agree to work for Lucas, or put our well-beings in the hands of Reese and his gang.
I shake my head in an attempt to clear those thoughts from my mind, since there’s no point getting all worked up and worried about it now. I’d be better off saving my energy to face the day ahead of me. It’s time for me to go, anyway.
ME: Gotta drive. TTY after work.
I silence my phone and head out to my car, sliding behind the wheel and navigating the L.A. traffic as I head to the address Lucas gave me.
I don’t like driving much, since traffic is freaking brutal and cabs are plentiful, but I’m not going to put me getting to Lucas’s house on time on my very first day of work in anyone else’s hands but my own. I have to navigate the streets a little more aggressively than usual, but I arrive with several minutes to spare, thank goodness.
Rolling to a stop in a large driveway, I gape at the building in front of me. Is this monstrosity what Lucas Hale considers a “house”? It’s walled and gated, which isn’t unusual. Whatisunusual is for the wall to have actual fucking turrets. It looks like a damn castle.
The guard at the gate checks my ID, and he must be expecting me, because the gates swing open before he even hands the card back to me. I drive through, trying very hard not to become unreasonably self-conscious about my cheap, sensible car. The elaborate garden—mostly rocks and fountains because, come on, it’s L.A.—spreads out on either side of the long driveway and seems to flow almost organically into the walls of the sprawling mansion.
I park as far as possible from the other cars. Don’t want to taint those million-dollar dreams with my chipped paint, right?
Ugh, I wish it wasn’t so early. I need a drink.
My nerves are out of fucking control right now, and I blame Cassidy for reminding me how weird this is—although it’s possible the goddamn turrets are the cause. They make me feel like I’ve gone back in time and am about to pay a visit to a king.
Okay, breathe, I remind myself.You are a professional personal assistant, and it doesn’t matter that you don’t know what that means because you’re about to find out. Got it? Good.
I slide out of my car and tug my long hair over one shoulder as I make my way up the stone walk toward the house. The door opens when I’m a few yards away, and a woman steps out, doing a little half-turn to look over her shoulder as she speaks to someone inside.
When she turns around again, Lucas follows her out of the house. My heart does a stupid little flutter before plummeting into my belly at the sight of his bare torso and tousled hair. Is it even legal to be that gorgeous?
A bunch of realizations hit me at once. First, it’s not even seven in the morning. Second, the woman walking out of his house is hot. Third—and also first, second, and fourth—he’s half-dressed. My steps falter slightly as I glance from him to her and realize what I probably just walked in on.
“Goodbye, Lucas,” she says in a tone that’s absolutely obscene to use before nightfall.
She gives me a look from under her lashes as she passes by, cutting me down and sizing me up in a single glance. I prickle at the unspoken insinuation, pressing my lips together as I meet her stare.
Ugh. Who the fuck hooks up with someone the night before they’re expecting a new employee to show up? I can’t tell if Lucas is showing off or just really bad at planning things.
Annoyance bubbles up inside me, and I tell myself it’s only because of his blatant unprofessionalism—although I don’t really know who I am to care about such things, considering I only got the job because I was caught stealing from him. Above all, however, I’m not jealous, becausethatwouldn’t make any sense.
Damn it, now my rhythm is off. I had this all planned out. I was going to greet him in my most cool, aloof voice and take a proactive stance on my first day, and now…
Shit. He’s looking at me. His lips are doing that thing they do when you’re trying to show someone that you’re trying not to smile.
“Something wrong?” he asks, tilting his head subtly in the direction of the woman getting into her car.
