Move In

Verena’s P.O.V

The only thing I wanted to do right now was find a cliff, scream out the top of my lungs and jump. How could the same man I was running from turn out to be the managing director?

As if my situation wasn’t worse enough, I signed the contract because of those mesmerizing blue eyes veined with silver that locked with mine as heat pooled at the depths of my stomach while memories from that night flooded through my mind. 

Plus he mentioned something about living with him for five weekdays because of his busy schedule and like the fool I was, I accepted it. 

This was on me!

If only I’d done the simplest research on the person I wanted to work for. Instead, my desperation for a job blinded me and brought me before the same person I wanted to escape. 

Even if I ended up taking the job, how were we supposed to keep things professional despite knowing the sexual tension between us? 

I ran a free hand through the back of my neck in exasperation, tossing the stale cold sandwich back to the passenger’s seat while reaching for my phone.

It was time to do the research I should have done a long time ago. 

“Daxton Cooper” I typed and in the next second, hundreds of articles flooded my screen. 

He was the last child of Kian’s grandfather—Maxwell Cooper— and he was the result of his father's affair with an opera singer in the 80s. 

He was also thirty-seven. 

Despite being the youngest of the Cooper family, he was the richest and the only self-made billionaire with hotel businesses expanding all around the world.

If he was this influential, how come no one in the family ever made mention of him? Or could he be the uncle Kian said wasn’t on good terms with his siblings?

It had to be him. I literally knew everyone—not everyone because those people were vast as the sands on the seashore.

I clicked on a picture of him standing outside a private jet. A white baseball cap sat on his head, a white long-sleeve shirt, his hands slipping down the pockets of his beige pants as he gazed off to something on the right. 

Even though he wasn’t looking directly at the camera, there was something majestic and enchanting about him and—

Wait, no!

I shouldn’t be thinking this about him. 

“We don’t have to take the job, Verena. I know I have signed a contract and I am supposed to start work tomorrow but we don’t have to take it!” I said to myself, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. 

I wouldn’t be bound by a contract that wasn’t signed with a sane mind. I would move to my parents’ abandoned house in Idaho and manage the thousand dollars left in my account and try to get a job until—

My heart skittered to a stop. 

Ding! Ding! The threatening sound of the notification sounded far worse than the last as my eyes settled on the phone’s screen. 

Lake Music Streaming Premium— $4.99

Relix— 120$

Peace meditation app— 60$

For a second, all I did was just stare at the screen despite the emotions that warred inside of me. How was this even happening and why the hell didn’t I cancel these subscriptions? I rarely used these apps. 

God!

The last thing I needed was these senseless deductions. Why were so many things going wrong at the same time? First, it was a scam investment, and now this!

I leaned into the driver’s seat, running a hand through my hair frustratedly when all of a sudden, my phone buzzed in my hands. I took a fleeting glance at it. My lawyer. 

My heart slammed against my ribcage and a weird feeling unfurled in my chest as Kian popped up in my mind. Has he agreed to sign the divorce papers? That had to be the only reason the lawyer was calling. 

Eagerness clawed at me as I swiped through the phone’s screen pressing it to my ears. “Ms Verena Cooper?”

My heart pounded in my ears, growing louder with every second of silence that stretched between us. All I wanted to hear was that Kian had signed the divorce papers and had agreed to a settlement. 

“Yes”

“Mr Kian Cooper has refused to sign the papers,” Mr James said, putting a tragic end to the anticipation inside of me as my eyes closed briefly and I exhaled sharply, reaching for the door’s handle and opening it. 

As the sound of the car’s door being slammed shut echoed through the parking lot, I breathed. “Why?”

“His counsel reached out to us and claimed he’s not in the right mental state to make decisions and he will only sign the papers when he meets you. The plan is to give him twenty more days, if he doesn’t sign those papers then we take it up with the court,”

A bitter scoff escaped me, my grip tightening around my bag as disbelief nudged at the corners of my heart. What exactly was Kian’s problem? He wanted an open marriage and I served him divorce papers so he could be free to do whatever he wanted. 

Yet, he had refused to let me go. 

Shouldn’t he be glad that I was giving him the freedom he and his parents craved for? 

I cleared my throat. “So, what is the way forward because if there is anything I am sure of, nothing is wrong with Kian and all of this is a ploy to see and manipulate me”

“If Mr Kian stalls past the deadline, we will file to compel. You have nothing to worry about and you don’t have to meet him and—” The rest of Mr James’ words faded into a blur when someone called my name. 

“Miss Verena,”

I halted in my steps, phone dropping from my ear as I turned. A fully bearded man with a buzz haircut, dressed in all-black sauntered towards me with a growing smile on his face. 

The more I stared at him, the more confusion made a full swirl inside of me as I pressed the phone back to my ears. “Can I call you later? Mr James”

“Yeah, okay”

I disconnected the call, raised a brow. “And you are…”

He removed a business card from his breast pocket, stretching it towards me and the moment my eyes fell on the address, my stomach flipped over and over as a wave of nausea washed over me. 

I almost stumbled back because what made me harbor the thoughts that I could run? I literally put down my home address in my application. 

“I am Daxton Cooper’s secretary, Simon Beaufort and he has sent me here to help you pack the things that you need for your move. He said you will be starting work tomorrow and needs to ensure that you are settled in your new accommodation” He said with a smile on his face. 

Pain split through my skull like a honed knife. How did I get here? Why did I sign that contract? 

“Oh…” I trailed. 

He slipped a hand into his pocket, removing a black card. “And uh…” Confusion nudged at me until he stretched it to me. “Mr Daxton asked me to give you his card in case you need anything tonight. It is now yours”

Mine?

How. 

“But I don't need it,” I protested. 

Mr Simon Beaufort smiled. “Well, he insists so what do you need help packing—” His words trailed and in that moment, I was left pondering if this whole setup was normal. 

Do bosses give their assistants their personal cards and worse, do they ask them to move in with them?