Chapter 3

I stood in front of the massive door that led to Mr. Salvatore’s office, panting and drenched in sweat.

Of course his office had to be on the top floor and of course the elevator was under maintenance on my first day. I’d climbed what felt like a thousand steps in heels, praying not to pass out halfway up.

I quickly wiped the sweat off my face, adjusted my dress, and knocked.

No response.

I knocked again. Still nothing.

So I pushed the door open and blinked.

It wasn’t his office. It was some sort of mini-reception. And seated behind a sleek desk was a woman obnoxiously chewing gum while typing away at a laptop.

“Um… I’m here to see Mr. Salvatore,” I said, still trying to catch my breath.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even glance up. Just kept typing with her perfectly manicured nails.

“Excuse me,” I repeated, louder this time.

With an exaggerated sigh, she removed her glasses and looked at me like I’d just ruined her dayl.

She was gorgeous I’ll give her that. Smoky eyes, glossy lips, and a low-cut top that showed off her cleavage 

“And you are?” she asked, scanning me from head to toe.

Wow. Rude.

“I’m Eva Rodríguez. Mr. Salvatore said I’d be working as his personal assistant,” I replied, standing a little taller.

She gave me another slow once-over, then turned back to her laptop without another word.

“The door to your left.”

“Thank you,” I said with a forced smile.

She didn’t even blink. Just kept typing.

What the hell crawled up her ass this morning?

I walked over to the door and opened it.

Julian Salvatore’s office was massive more like a luxury penthouse than a workspace. A giant window spanned the far wall, giving an impressive view of the skyline. To the right was a bar setup with enough expensive liquor to pay my rent for 10 years, and to the left, a sitting area.And right at the center, behind a massive desk, sat Julian, looking as indifferent as ever.

“You’re late,” he said, not even bothering to look up.

“I’m sorry, sir. The elevator wasn’t working so I—” I started to explain.

“Is that what they taught you at City Luxury? Excuses?” he cut in, finally meeting my eyes with those cold, dark ones. “I expected more from you, Miss Eva.”

I clenched my jaw. 

Don’t snap. 

Don’t kill your boss. “It won’t happen again,” I said tightly, forcing the words through gritted teeth.

“Good. Now that that’s settled…” He stood and walked around his desk, handing me a sleek black folder. “Your first assignment is to find ten potential advertising firms we can collaborate with on the new campaign and schedule meetings with them for tomorrow.”

“Wait—tomorrow?” I blinked. “Sir, I’ll need more time. I mean, I can’t just schedule meetings overnight—”

His eyes narrowed. “What did I just say about excuses?”

I stared at him, my glare probably strong enough to melt steel. He just raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow, clearly amused. His lips curved into a faint, smirk.

“Oh, and take these.” He tossed a pair of keys at me. I barely managed to catch them.

“That’s your official company car and your apartment keys,” he said casually, “I need you close and available at all times.”

“You’ll also need to see Veronica my secretary,” he added, and suddenly the image of Miss Rude flashed through my mind. So that’s her name.

“She’ll give you your office tablet. It’s synced to my schedule, meetings, contacts, and also has the address for your car and apartment.”

I was still processing all of that when he said, “Miss Eva.”

I looked up.

“I run a very successful company because I am efficient and detail-oriented. I expect the same level of commitment from anyone working with me.”

He handed me a business card. “That’s my personal number. Do not miss my calls.”

His tone left no room for argument.

“The door to your left is your office. That’ll be all for now.”

Dismissed. Just like that.

I turned on my heel, gripping the keys in one hand, folder in the other, and stormed out of the office giving Veronica a vicious glare before entering my office.

I fucking hate my life 

*

* 

“What the fucking hell is this bullshit?” I screamed, slamming the folder onto the desk so hard .This wasn’t a job contract it was a manual for psychological warfare. I had barely flipped past page three, and already my eye was twitching.

“Rule #5: All coffee must be sourced from Caffè Fiore a boutique café located approximately 30minutes away. Miss Eva must deliver it fresh and punctually by 8:00 a.m. Any delay is considered a breach of professionalism.”

“30 minutes?! For a cup of bitterness?” I yelled at no one in particular. “Who the hell drinks an iced Americano without the ice? That’s just Americano!”

I kept reading, my disbelief growing like a tumor in my brain.

“Rule #9: Miss Eva’s weekends are to align with Mr. Salvatore’s. If he works, she works. If he rests, she may rest, unless called in for emergency.”

I flipped to the next page.

“Rule #12: No red pens are allowed in Mr. Salvatore’s vicinity. He finds the color aggressive and unnecessarily judgmental.”

I stared at that line for a good ten seconds.

“Rule #17: Mr Salvatore hates the smell of peaches ,so anything with peaches should not be brought near him he is also allergic to peanuts and should not be given anything with it in it”

“Rule #20: Background music must be pre-set to Mozart’s Requiem at precisely 20% volume on high-stress days. You’ll know it’s a high-stress day if Mr. Salvatore enters the building without speaking.”

“HE DOESN’T SPEAK HALF THE TIME! That’s literally every day!”

I dropped into the plush chair in my new office, glaring at the keys to my new car and house like they were the cause of my predicament .

The salary might’ve been enough to pay off a yacht, but nothing nothing prepared me for the mental gymnastics required to survive here .

There is no way in Hades ass I’m doing all of this and it’s time I finally give Julian Salvatore a piece of my mind