CHAPTER 6

Lily's POV

The email had been sitting in my inbox for about two days.

I had read it twice before but I opened it again to make sure I wasn't making any mistakes.

Hi Lily. I heard you were looking for a job. Someone sent me this. It's from an anonymous employer. Good pay. Female only. Just go with your CV and an ID.

Address: No 12, Bechland, NYC. June 12th. 10 a.m.

Good luck.

I didn't know what the job was about but I was prepared to find out. I had a black blazer, navy blue blouse and grey trousers on. I pulled my hair back and applied a faint lip gloss.

I locked my phone and stopped a taxi. He stopped and I got in.

I told him the address and we headed out.

The drive took about fifteen minutes. When we finally arrived, a castle-looking house stood in the middle of lush greenery. Security men guarded the entrance.

I showed my ID to them and I was led into a room where some other girls were already seated.

The moment I sat down, I glanced through each of those ladies. At once, I questioned what kind of job I was here for.

No one matched my professional dressing. One lady with heavy makeup even had a bodycon gown that traced every inch of her curves.

They whispered to themselves while keeping their eyes on me.

A man came in every now and then to pick one of us up one by one, and when it was finally my turn, he led me to the door of an office.

He gestured toward the door. “Knock then push enter.”

I exhaled then knocked on the door twice. I pushed the door open then walked. The door closed behind me on its own.

The smell of tobacco hit me first. The office was dimly lit. A figure sat behind a desk with his legs crossed on the surface. I couldn't see his face but the smoke from the cigarette drifted up.

The moment I stepped further into the office, he shifted in his seat, making me stop. He stood up at once. That's when I saw it.

White hair. Green eyes.

My breathing did not skip. It stopped.

I gasped and took multiple steps back.

The same face as the man I had met at the nightclub. The drunk stranger man I had driven across the city in the middle of a dangerous night. The man who sent people into my home and left a message in my bedroom.

“Wait,” his thick voice sounded across the room as I hurried to find the doorknob.

Before I knew it, he was already standing inches away from me with his hand pressing the door shut above my head.

My heart throbbed as I looked into his green eyes. My body had never felt so close to collapsing. I was sure he could hear how my heart pounded against my ribs.

“You are the girl from the club,” he said.

“And y-you are the man who accused me of theft then destroyed my apartment,” I stammered. “So move your hand away from the door so I can leave.”

He didn't move immediately. He fell silent while keeping his eyes on mine.

I kept twisting and pulling the doorknob but he kept pushing it back.

“Relax,” he said.

He exhaled and his breath hit my face.

“I know you didn't take the watch,” he said in a low tone like a man accepting defeat.

“I found it in my drawer,” he said. “It had been there the whole time.”

The silence thickened once again between us.

At some point over the past few days he had found out that I didn't take the wristwatch. But he had done nothing. He had said nothing while I was forced to vacate my home.

“Then why am I only hearing this now?”

He didn't reply. He simply went back to the desk and brought out the watch from his drawer. He placed it on the surface then raised his eyes to look at me.

“I was wrong,” he said.

My face relaxed and my fingers that had been digging into my palm relaxed as well.

“I asked the men I hired to not return until they find the watch. But they did too much to your apartment,” he said.

“I'm sorry.”

His words hit directly. No excuse. No rubbing around the edges.

I nearly thought he wasn't the same person as the man on the phone from the restaurant.

“I have a question,” he said.

“Did you really stop me from driving myself that night?” he asked.

“Yes. I did.”

“And the hooded guys?”

“Yeah.”

We both fell silent until it started feeling weird.

“I'll restore your apartment. Every broken object will be replaced,” he said.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “But I'm still leaving.”

“You won't even hear what the job is all about.”

“No,” I responded.

“You don't care about the salary?” He said.

“I don't need it,” I responded.

“Are you sure you don't?” he said as I was about to open the door.

“It’s twenty thousand dollars a month.”

I froze. Twenty thousand dollars. The math began in my head instantly.

In three months I'd have more than enough to settle the treatment bill. Enough to give my mother a real chance.

“What is the job?” I asked without turning around.

“Personal assistant,” he said. “I'm new to the city. I need someone who knows it. Someone I can trust.”

Personal assistant. That was within my experience. But my mind snagged at the thought of working for a man like this. A man who could order other men to do bad things.

“I will accept but on one condition,” I said.

“Tell me.”