01- Insults at First Glance

"Who on earth parked that junk right next to my car?!"

A booming male voice echoed through the air. Ah, New York! It was just another chaotic Monday. Couldn't people get their acts together? But no, they thrived on the drama, as if it were their source of livelihood.

"Ally!" My boss's irritated voice cut through the noise. "Ugh, I can't stand this place," I sighed, even though I desperately needed the paycheck. That's how helpless I was.

"I heard you, missy," he shouted back.

"Whatever," I grumbled under my breath, hoping he wouldn't hear. "Coming!" I yelled, desperately wishing it was loud enough to block his ears. If only it did the trick.

It's not that I disliked my boss; he was just a stern, no-nonsense kind of guy. My role at this diner was to serve tables, not to be his cleaning crew. Since I started working there, he'd piled on the extra chores, like scrubbing the restrooms and the kitchen. Seriously, who does that? Right, my grumpy, old boss. Some days, I couldn't help but think he was put on this planet just to make my life miserable.

"Snap out of it, missy!" He barked, more of a shout—as usual. I was grateful to dodge a few droplets of saliva that flew my way. This man could use a lesson in hygiene and manners.

"Go help, Mr. Reynolds. Some idiot parked their car too close and even managed to scratch his. That person is in serious trouble. He's a fucking Reynolds, for crying out loud—he could get away with anything. There was a ti—"

"Mr. who?" I interrupted.

"Reynolds, Ally. You've never heard of him?" His surprise was evident in his tone.

"Clearly," I muttered.

"Well, he just purchased this building from Sir Philips. So, technically, the man is our landlord now."

"Fantastic," I replied, my disinterest evident. What was I supposed to do with the information? It was none of my business, except that for some reason, he decided to give me a part of his wealth.

Okay, that was a failed attempt at making a joke. Even a K-drama screenwriter would never write that.

"Enough with the attitude, young lady. I can't believe you don't know who he is. Ally, do you even live on this planet? This is unbelievable; you're unbelievable, dear. The Reynolds family owns more than half of New York. They're the wealth—"

"Excuse me, about the assistance?" I quickly interjected. Did I mention he tends to ramble on? Seriously, he could go on for two days without stopping.

"Yes, about that. Now, off you go." He waved me away like I was a child begging for sweets.

So 'bossy.' After all, he was my boss.

I made my way to the crowded parking lot to find the man with the angry voice, and to my surprise, he was standing next to my car, more like seething. There is no doubt he was Mr. Reynolds.

I couldn't see his face since he was turned away from me, but it was clear that he had an impressive build. His backside was quite appealing, if I do say so myself, and I felt a rush of something?

What was wrong with me? I wasn't the type to lust after men, especially those I hadn't put a face to. But with a body like that, he must possess a good-looking face. I mean, you could see his strong, ripped muscles.

Here I stood, lost in thoughts about a man I had never actually seen. Get a grip, Ally.

Clearing my throat, I said, "Mr. Campbell sent me to assist you, sir. He mentioned you needed help, and I'm here to provide it." I counted my fingers to shake off the nerves. From the way he tapped one foot aggressively and swung the Ray-Ban glasses in between his fingers, no seer needed to tell me the stranger was furious.

"Move this junk out of my way," he snapped. Wow, his voice was something else—deep and husky, definitely captivating.

Hold on a minute; he just referred to my car as junk! Nobody disrespects my baby. There was no way I was going to let that slide, especially after all the thoughts I had about him. His infuriatingly attractive self.

What a self-absorbed jerk.

"Excuse me, Mr. Reynolds, just because you drive a luxury car doesn't make this 'junk' any less of a vehicle. Both of the cars are engaged in the same activity, and it's called driving, but I suppose that concept escapes you since your ego seems to be your closest companion," I shot back, matching his hostility. What an insufferable egotist.

In a fit of rage, he spun around, eyes blazing. 'You are dead, Alessia!' was the only thought in my head. The man was—

"Who. The. Hell. Are. You. To. Dictate. My. Actions? Do you have any idea who I am, little girl?" He sneered at me, interrupting my thoughts. For a second, I could've sworn I saw shock in his eyes when his face met mine.

"Little?" I scoffed in disbelief. "You're probably older than me by a few years." I hissed, my irritation bubbling over. Rich. Rude. Nothing new.

"Just so you're aware, I could destroy your life in an instant. In mere seconds, I could turn your reality into a nightmare with a simple snap of my fingers. No one confronts me and gets away unscathed, and you? You're on the brink, and trust me, you're the one who's going to get hurt. I'll tell you who I am. Trevor Reynolds, the chief executive officer of a multi-billion dollar company. Got that? I wield billions!" he declared, his pride peeking through.

A billionaire? He looked the part: the car, his glasses, pristine shoes, and black tailored suit. Black, just like his heart, if he has one. And the fact that he was our new landlord.

He was striking, no less, with eyes that glimmered like silver—intense and enchanting. His perfectly sculpted face, dark locks with a stylish swoosh, and sun-kissed tan radiated a bad boy charm; only he was rich-rich. His sharp jawline and subtly crooked nose only enhanced his rugged appeal. Those thick, dark eyebrows framed his beautiful silver-grey eyes, adorned with lashes that could make any woman jealous. He was undeniably worth a second look; I couldn't deny it. I was inexplicably drawn to this cocky man standing before me.

His eyes continued to bore holes into my skin. Was he expecting an answer or an apology? Because he didn't expect me to say 'I'm sorry, sir,' I definitely wasn't.

"Mr. Reynolds, could we talk about this as grown-ups?" I decided to play the role of the mediator, goody-two-shoes, if you know what I mean. The man didn't look like a joker, but he's still a clown—to me.

"What we need to address is your responsibility to pay me five thousand dollars for the little accident you caused, Miss." He fired back in one breath, pointing his finger in my face. I noticed his wrist was sporting a Patek Philippe. He knew his jewels.

If only I had done what he said, none of this would have happened. He might have let me off the hook, and I wouldn't be stuck facing such an outrageous bill. If only I had kept my mouth shut. The amount was obviously peanuts to him. I was so baffled; we both knew he could actually let it go.

Where on earth was I supposed to find that kind of money? I was drowning in debt, scraping by with two dead-end jobs, while this incredibly wealthy, attractive man demanded a ridiculous sum from my broke self. It was just a minor scratch, and he was more than capable of handling it himself. He was loaded, for crying out loud! Was he sent to make my life miserable, just like that old Campbell?

I furrowed my brows. "Sir, I simply don't have that kind of money. I'm just a waitress, for heaven's sake!" I retorted, frustration spilling over. The man was extremely unreasonable.

"Your options are either that or you come to work for me. Choose what works best for you," he said, handing me a business card. "This has my office details. Reach out to me when you've made your decision. In just two days, Miss. Two days." He gestured for me to move my car away from his 'premium' vehicle.

Once I was done parking my car in a different space, he strode to his car without even a word of thanks. Seriously? He shot me one last look before slipping into his Mercedes-Maybach and speeding off, leaving me in a cloud of dust and anger.

Two days!

Five thousand dollars or a job with him.

Stupid options.

What the hell was I supposed to do? In my state of shock, I lingered in the driveway for what felt like fifteen minutes until old Campbell came looking for me. Hunting for me.

I needed some time to sort through my thoughts and process everything. Nobody could give me a heart attack, not even some handsome hunk.

Well, maybe Captain America could.

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✿ a note from the author ✿

thank you for picking up this story. it truly means the world to me. every character and every line carries a little piece of my heart, and i hope you feel something real as you read.

this is a work of fiction, born entirely from imagination. any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental.

writing is a journey of learning, and i am deeply grateful for readers who share their thoughts with kindness and care. your support helps me grow and reminds me why i love doing this.

i also believe stories should make space for everyone, reflecting the beauty and diversity of our world. this is a space for compassion, curiosity, and connection.

thank you again, from the bottom of my heart, for being here. i hope this story stays with you long after the last page.

with love,

Sammeeha