CHAPTER FOUR: UNEXPECTED

Ahh... yeah, fu... ck.”

“Oh... yes! Right there, direct execution!”

My eyes snapped open. I blinked into the dark room, completely confused.

“Ah! Harder!”

I turned around in my bed and sat up fast, rubbing my eyes. Across the small room, the bright screen of Mia's phone was glowing in the dark. She was lying on her side, wearing her oversized pajamas, munching on a bowl of dry cereal, and staring intently at her screen.

“Mia?” I rasped, my voice thick with sleep.

She didn't hear me because the sound of wet slapping noises and loud, dramatic groans filled our tiny bedroom.

“Ah…harder.”

I rubbed my eyes and squinted. “Mia!”

She flinched slightly, her thumb tapping the screen to pause the video “Oh, Cam. Did I wake you?’’

“Are you... are you watching p**n at midnight?!” I gasped, staring at her in absolute shock, while staring at the alarm clock behind me. “This is 2am Mia!"

Mia scoffed “It’s not just p**n, Cammy it’s a story!” she held her phone up proudly. “Look at the plot! The plumber just walked into the house, but instead of fixing the sink, he realized the housewife was actually a secret agent who trapped him! The dialogue is incredible!”

What does she mean by incredible! This was freaking 2 in the morning.

On her screen, a guy in dirty stretched-out overalls was aggressively pinning a blonde against a kitchen counter while shouting lines that sounded like they were written by a confused robot.

“I don't care about the plumber's character development!” I groaned, pulling my hair back in frustration. “Can you please lower the volume? Or better still, use your headphones and listen to it privately?!”

Mia scoffed, taking another bite of her dry cereal. “What fun would that be? Experiencing art is meant to be shared, Cam. Plus, my headphones are broken.”

“I have to wake up at four in the morning to deal with a billionaire demon!” I yelled in a harsh whisper.

“Well, maybe if you watched a bit of this, you wouldn't be so stressed about your demon boss,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

“I hate you,” I snapped.

I angrily grabbed my pillow, stuffed it over my ears, and buried my face into the mattress. But even through the thick feathers, the muffled, theatrical moans of the secret-agent housewife and her plumber kept leaking through the air.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep a single wink for the rest of the night.

When my alarm went off at 4:15 AM, I felt like a zombie that had been run over by a delivery truck. My eyes were bloodshot, my muscles were weak, and my brain felt like absolute mush.

I stumbled out of bed, glaring at Mia who was fast asleep, snoring softly like an innocent angel. I wanted to dump a bucket of cold water over her head, but I didn't have the time.

By 5:20 AM, I was standing inside the dark, empty lobby of Alder Tower.

My body was running on pure adrenaline and burning spite. I took the elevator up to the eighty-second floor, dragging my heavy feet across the carpet. I thought I would be the first one there, but as soon as the elevator doors slid open, I saw the light shining from Silvan's's office.

Of course. The man probably slept in a suit, or he never goes home.

I took a deep breath, fixed my collar, and walked inside his office.

Silvan was sitting at his desk, wearing a dark navy suit that looked utterly flawless. He was reading through a passport and a stack of travel documents. When he looked up at me, his sharp gray eyes instantly took in my pale skin and the dark circles under my eyes.

“You look like you were dragged through a hedge backward, Miss Martin,” he said smoothly, his voice deep and raspy in the early morning quiet.

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Alder,” I muttered, dropping my bag by my desk and stepping into his office.“I had... a noisy neighbor.”

Silvan tilted his head, a tiny, amused smirk playing on his lips. “A noisy neighbor? On the East Side? How colorful.”

This man really is annoying, firstly he didn't even compliment me and now he started with a sarcastic tone, honestly I didn't have the strength for him.

“She was analyzing a very intense documentary about plumbing,” I blurted out before my sleep-deprived brain could stop me.

Silvan paused. His silver pen stopped mid-air. He looked at me for three long seconds, his gray eyes narrowing slightly in sheer confusion.

“Plumbing?” he repeated flatly.

“Yes. It was... highly educational,” I said, realizing how insane I sounded. I quickly cleared my throat and stepped closer to his desk. “Anyway, what do you need me to do before your flight?”

He closed his passport with a soft click. He stood up, towering over his desk, his massive frame blocking out the early morning light coming through the window. He walked around the desk, stopping right in front of me.

Up close, he smelled so good it was offensive, expensive cedarwood, sharp mint and tobacco. Meanwhile, I smelled like cheap coffee.

“First,” Silvan murmured, reaching out his long fingers, “I need my assistant to look somewhat conscious.”

Before I could move, his hand reached up. His warm, calloused thumb lightly brushed against the soft skin right under my eye, tracing the dark shadow there.

My entire body went completely still. An electric shock shot straight down my spine, pooling low in my stomach. My breath caught in my throat, and for a second, my weak, tired knees almost gave out completely.

Silvan's steel-gray eyes darkened as he looked down at my face, his thumb lingering against my skin just a minute too long. The physical tension between us grew so thick and hot it felt like the air in the room was catching fire.

“You're so soft, Camille,” he whispered, his voice dropping into a dangerous, dark baritone that made my toes curl inside my shoes. “Too soft for the games I played in this city.”

So he wasn't ashamed to admit he was a fuck boy, but no way I'm letting him get to me.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to look right into his dangerous eyes. “You'd be surprised how tough I can be, Mr. Alder.”

Julian let out a low, rough chuckle that vibrated right through my chest. He slowly pulled his hand back, his thumb trailing down my jawline before dropping to his side.

“We'll see,” he murmured, turning toward the door as Reto stepped into the room holding two heavy leather travel bags. Silvan picked up his coat, throwing it over his arm. He looked back at me over his shoulder, his gray eyes burning with a dark, possessive light.

“I'll be back by friday night, Camille,” he said softly. “Try to get some sleep. I'd hate for my favorite assistant to collapse before I even get the chance to break her.”

With that he left, with Reto trailing behind him.