"Work for me."
"Huh?"
I take a moment. Just stand there and let the words rearrange themselves in my head, waiting for them to form something that makes sense.
They don't.
I exhale slowly through my nose.
"Sir." I keep my voice even. "I already work for you."
The man is objectively stunning and clearly has something loose upstairs. Adrian Miller only tilts his head, a small, lazy movement; the dark hair, the dark suit, all of it absorbing the thin morning light filtering through the blinds until there's nothing left to focus on but those cold pale eyes catching it like glass.
I try not to shift my weight under his sharp gaze.
"Correction." His voice drops the warmth it had two minutes ago. No sign of his previous amusement. As he speaks, I try not to shiver.
"You work for the company. I don't imagine that arrangement will survive much longer, given the offense you've committed against a member of the Miller family. Entertaining as it was." He lets that sit for a beat. "Assaulting an alpha. Assaulting a superior. Those are not small things."
He's not wrong. I'd been so focused on the firing that I hadn't let myself think about the part where Caleb could press charges. Where the law would look at the footage — my footage, already in this man's possession — and land entirely on the side of the alpha with the family name. I was foolish to assume the worst thing could have been being fired. But now he is threatening jail…
I've been reading people since I was nineteen years old, training myself to catch every small tell that pheromones would've handed me for free. Micro-expressions, breath patterns, the exact quality of silence before someone lies.
I cannot get a single read on this man.
He waits. Leaned back in that chair languidly, like this is the most comfortable he's been all week, watching me with the patient, faintly pleased expression.
A predator enjoying the squirming prey. He is waiting for me to react.
I clench my jaw.
"But?" I bite the trap anyway. Might as well see what's in it.
"But." The word rolls off him slowly, like he's savoring it. "If you were to switch and work directly under me — I would ensure my cousin keeps his hands entirely off one of mine."
The silence after that is heavy.
It's tempting. That's the annoying part. It's genuinely tempting and he knows it, which makes it worse.
"What's the catch?" I blurt out. I'm usually better at this — pacing myself, staying two steps behind what I'm actually thinking. Something about this guy makes me more irrational, and less cautious.
Adrian's expression shifts. Not quite a smile. But there is a faint trace of amusement.
"Blunt," he observes. "For a beta, you have considerable nerve. I'll give you that."
Tch. For a beta. Yeah, right.
There it is. Just another arrogant alpha with a hierarchy tattooed onto the inside of his skull, handing out compliments with a ceiling built in. I feel the familiar cold settle somewhere behind my sternum.
I let a slow grin pull at the corner of my mouth. Not a warm one.
"I think we're past formalities, Mr. Miller."
Something changes in his face. Subtle — I'd miss it on anyone else. His eyes sharpen. Zero in on me like I've just stepped into a crosshair.
"Hm…I liked it better when you called me sir."
He holds eye contact for a moment longer than necessary. Then sighs, and slides a document across the desk toward me.
Then he does it.
Looks me dead in the eye and crooks two fingers.
Come here.
And this fucking asshole has two fingers crooked at me.
A beckoning sign. With his fingers.
Like I'm a dog. Like this is simply the natural order of things and he's generous for acknowledging me at all.
Oh this arrogant piece of shit—
The audacity of this man is genuinely staggering.
I stare at the fingers. I stare at his face. He looks entirely untroubled by my staring.
I am angry. I am also not stupid. There's a document on that desk and a security recording on that laptop and a cousin with a bruised jaw and a grudge. I can feel all of that sitting in the room with us, quiet and patient.
I swallow the anger down, file it somewhere I can find it later, and walk forward.
For now.
***
"So. You want me to be your what?"
"Personal assistant."
"I get that part." I look back down at the document. "But the contract says 24/7 availability."
He gives me the most insincere smile I have ever seen on a living person.
"Yes!"
"Mr. Miller, how is that remotely sustainable—"
"You'll move into my penthouse, of course."
Huh?
This arrogant piece of shit—
My head throbs. Maybe I should punch him as well.
Keep it together, Brendon. You are already in enough trouble.
"Anything wrong?" he asks with a pleasant smile, like he's asking about the weather. "I would naturally expect my personal assistant to be available at all times. For anything I need." A deliberate pause on that. That particular choice of wording is enough to make me uneasy. "I am not a normal person. Besides — is the compensation not adequate?"
My eyes drag down to the salary figure.
Oh.
Cha-ching.
More than double my yearly salary. I read it again. Same number. I am not above admitting, privately, that I am absolutely drooling right now. The table needs food on it and this would feed it very well for a very long time.
I cannot let him see that. Not yet.
"The salary is fine," I say, voice flat. "But answer me this — why specifically me, a mere beta? You could find someone far more qualified." I hold his gaze. "So why me."
That's the real question. That's what's been in my mind since he opened his mouth.
Why go through all the trouble to get someone who physically assaulted his cousin?
Something moves behind those ice-blue eyes. Dark, fast, gone before I can grab it. A shadow crossing still water.
Interesting. I did hit a nerve it seems.
"Sign the papers," he says. "And I will tell you."
Tch. Cautious. There's an NDA buried three pages in — whatever he's hiding, he wants it locked down tight. Worth knowing, then.
Not that I have much of a real choice here. Good salary, arrogant boss, or lawsuit, Caleb's bruised jaw, and a legal system that has never once bent toward a beta who hit an alpha. I pick up the pen.
I sign.
For some reason it feels heavier in my hand.
The thud of the pen hitting the desk matches the frantic beat of my heart. I don't know why. It's a contract, not a sentence. I don't do dramatics. And yet I'm already aware his eyes haven't left me since I reached for the pen, like a hawk.
I set the pen down.
"Good boy." he purrs, making me shiver, and stands in one fluid motion, straightening his jacket without looking down. "Now. Shall we take a walk?"
I have a bad feeling about this.
I look at him.
Collar, something in the back of my head says, quiet and dry. That's what you just signed.
I stand up and say nothing.
The leash is around my neck. Might as well find out where he's taking me.