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Chapter two

Chapter Two

The Billionaire’s Secret Obsession

Emma’s breath hitched as Damian’s piercing blue eyes held hers in a firm, unrelenting gaze. The streetlight cast long shadows across his face, making him look even more mysterious, more dangerous.

"I don’t need your help," she said firmly, stepping back.

Damian tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Are you always this stubborn?"

She clenched her fists. "I work hard for what I have. I don’t need some rich man swooping in and offering me handouts."

His lips curved slightly, but there was no amusement in his gaze. "This isn’t a handout, Emma. It’s an opportunity."

Her stomach twisted. He knew her name. She hadn’t told him.

"How do you know me?" she demanded, her voice sharp.

Damian didn’t even blink. "I told you. I make it a point to know the people who interest me."

Her heart pounded. "That’s not an answer. That’s just… creepy."

For the first time, a flicker of something—annoyance? Amusement?—crossed his face. "I’m offering you a job, Miss Hayes. Something far better than waiting tables for minimum wage."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "A job doing what exactly?"

His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest second before he answered. "I need a personal assistant. Someone I can trust."

She let out a humorless laugh. "And you trust me? You don’t even know me."

Damian’s expression darkened. "I know enough."

A chill ran down her spine. She should have turned and walked away. Should have told him to stay the hell out of her life. But something about the way he spoke—so calm, so certain—made her hesitate.

"Why me?" she asked, arms crossed. "You could hire anyone."

He took another step closer, the heat of his body brushing against her skin despite the cold night air. "Because you intrigue me."

The words sent a dangerous thrill through her, one she desperately tried to suppress.

"This is insane," she muttered, shaking her head. "I don’t even know you."

"You will," Damian said smoothly. "If you accept my offer."

Her mind screamed at her to refuse. To walk away and pretend this conversation never happened. But then she thought about the endless hours at the restaurant, the late rent notices piling up on her kitchen counter, the exhaustion that never seemed to fade.

A billionaire’s personal assistant. How much did something like that even pay?

"What’s the salary?" she asked hesitantly.

Damian’s lips twitched. "More than you’re making now."

She exhaled slowly. "And what exactly would I be doing?"

"Handling my schedule, coordinating meetings, running errands when necessary." His gaze darkened slightly. "And accompanying me to certain events when required."

Emma frowned. "So… I’d be like your date?"

His gaze didn’t waver. "You’d be my employee."

That wasn’t exactly a no.

Her instincts told her this was dangerous. That Damian Wolfe wasn’t a man who did things without a reason.

But damn it, she needed the money.

"Fine," she said after a long pause. "I’ll think about it."

Damian’s expression remained unreadable, but there was something victorious in the way he tilted his head.

"Good," he murmured. "Don’t take too long, Miss Hayes. I’m not a patient man."

And with that, he turned, slipping into the waiting black car. The door shut with a quiet click, and within seconds, the vehicle disappeared into the night.

Emma stood frozen on the sidewalk, her mind racing.

What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

—

The next morning, she woke up to an email.

Her stomach flipped as she read the sender’s name.

Damian Wolfe.

How the hell did he get her email?

With a deep breath, she clicked it open.

---

Miss Hayes,

I expect your decision by the end of the day. If you agree, my driver will pick you up at 7 PM sharp. If not, we’ll consider this conversation over.

Damian Wolfe