"I don't fit here"

CHAPTER 2

I should’ve been excited.

New job. New chance. New… billionaire boss who looked like he stepped out of a luxury advert.

But honestly?

I was terrified.

“You start tomorrow. Eight sharp,” Mr Reign had said before dismissing me like I was at a meeting he didn’t schedule.

So here I was the next morning.

Standing in the lobby again.

Wearing my only decent outfit–black pants that fit weird around the hips and a blouse that kept slipping off one shoulder like it had its own drama.

People stared.

Not in a mean way.

It's more like I was a misplaced cat wandering into a wolf pack.

Great.

Exactly the confidence boost I needed.

The receptionist from yesterday blinked when she saw me. “You’re… back?”

“Yeah.” I lifted my ID badge. “Mr Reign hired me.”

Her mouth fell open a little. “Hired?”

“Temporary,” I added fast. “Very temporary.”

Something like respect flashed in her eyes. Or suspicion. It's hard to tell.

“Top floor,” she said, softer this time.

The elevator ride felt longer today.

My stomach kept twisting like it wanted to jump out and run away.

What if he changed his mind overnight?

Billionaires probably do that.

They had the power to hire you today and forget your existence the next morning.

The doors opened.

The floor was quiet again. Too quiet.

I swear, you could hear my heartbeat echoing off the walls.

I stepped out. “Okay, Maya. Don’t mess this up. Or try. Or–okay, you’re already messing it up by talking to yourself.”

A voice behind me said, “You’re early.”

I yelped.

Actually yelped.

Mr Reign stood near the glass wall, arms folded. Same sharp suit. Same unreadable face.

He didn’t look like he’d slept since the last century.

“Sorry,” I blurted. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t move.”

“Your existence is… loud.”

His eyebrow lifted a little. “Loud?”

“You know. Intense.” My face heated. “Forget I said that.”

A hint of amusement crossed his eyes, then disappeared. “Follow me.”

His office looked different in the morning light.

Less intimidating.

But still expensive enough that I walked like touching anything might trigger a silent alarm.

He pointed to a small desk in the corner. Sleek. Glass. It's probably worth my entire neighbourhood.

“This is your workspace,” he said.

“For the… thirty days.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” I touched the chair. It spun silently. Too silently. Like it judged me.

He handed me a tablet. “Your tasks will appear here.”

“Tasks?”

“You’re my assistant,” he said, as if I’d somehow forgotten.

“Right. Yes. Assistant. I can assist. I assist all the time.”

He stared.

I shut up.

The tablet screen lit up. A list appeared:

- Check scheduling conflict

- Confirm lunch meeting

- Review travel requests

-Organise incoming correspondence

- Filter urgent emails

- Track investor replies

I blinked at the list like it was in another language.

“Um… I’ve never done this type of thing.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yes.”

He sat down behind his desk. “Your résumé for a café job wasn’t subtle.”

I hated that he had a point. “So why hire someone with zero experience?”

He leaned back slightly, eyes still on me. “Because I don’t want experience.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.”

A beat passed.

His expression didn’t change. “Your honesty. Your unpredictability.”

I choked on my own breath. “Please don’t say that like it’s a strength.”

“It isn’t,” he said calmly. “But it’s useful.”

“Wow. Motivational.”

For the first time, he almost laughed. Almost.

It softened him by like 3%.

“Start by checking my schedule,” he said.

“Okay. Easy.”

I clicked the calendar icon.

It wasn’t easy.

His entire day was booked. Back-to-back meetings. Calls. One event with “Board”. Another with “Ministers”. Another with “Internal”. And a mysterious slot labelled “S”. Just S.

“What’s S?” I asked.

He looked up from a document. “None of your concern.”

“Oh. Mysterious. Love that.”

Another stare.

Right. Shut up, Maya.

I kept scrolling.

Meetings. Calls. More meetings.

I couldn’t even imagine living like this. He was basically a walking calendar with a face.

“You’ll also answer calls for me,” he said.

“Calls from who?”

“Everyone.”

“That sounds… intense.”

He didn’t reply.

I peeked at him.

There was something different today.

A heaviness around his shoulders.

Like he hadn’t slept long.

Like something bothered him.

Should I ask? No. That was too personal. Right?

… But I asked anyway.

“You okay?”

He froze slightly. Only slightly.

Then he set down the pen. “Why do you ask?”

“You look… tired.”

Most bosses would snap.

He didn’t.

He just studied me for a long second.

Then, he said, “I am tired.”

I blinked. “Oh. Okay.”

He nodded once. “Don’t mention it again.”

“Got it.”

Silence.

But the kind that didn’t feel uncomfortable.

Just… real.

My tablet buzzed suddenly.

New email.

I opened it.

The subject line:

“WHO IS SHE”???”

The sender: Ivy Laurent

I quickly clicked it open.

Cole,i heard you hired someone. A woman. Already?

Should I be concerned?

Call me when you’re free. –Ivy

My stomach dipped.

“She sounds jealous,” I said before thinking.

“Maya,” he warned.

“Right. I’ll zip it.”

But curiosity poked me anyway. “Who’s Ivy?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

He looked at the window.

In the city.

At everything except me.

Finally: “Someone from the past.”

“Oh.”

I waited for more.

He didn’t offer any.

I pretended to check the next email, but… nope. Couldn’t focus.

Someone from the past.

Someone who clearly still cared.

Someone who still had access to him.

Why did that bother me?

Because I liked him?

No. Absolutely not.

Impossible.

He was a billionaire.

I was… me.

And anyway, he probably saw me as an entertaining stray he found on his doorstep.

He suddenly said, “I don’t want you responding to anything from Ivy. Ever.”

“Okay. Why, though?”

He hesitated.

“Because she reads too much into things.”

“Into… us?”

“There is no ‘us’,” he said quickly.

That stung more than it should have.

But he wasn’t wrong.

“Right. Of course not.”

He went back to work.

I looked at the tablet again, pretending the blurry words made sense.

This job was going to break me.

Or change me.

Or both.

And the worst part?

I already knew something dangerous:

I didn’t just want the job to go well.

I wanted to understand him.

Why did he choose me?

Why didn't I scare him off.

Why did he watch me sometimes like I was a puzzle he didn’t mean to open but couldn’t stop studying?

Thirty days.

And already, I was in trouble.