CHAPTER 4: The PA Contract

Cassy

Bright morning sunlight cut through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the penthouse, waking me from a deep, dreamless sleep. I blinked slowly, my hazel eyes adjusting to the warm light pouring into the guest suite. For a second, I forgot where I was. Then I looked at the plush white duvet, the marble fireplace, and the oversized grey sweatpants I was still wearing.

Everything from last night came crashing back like a tidal wave. Hendrix. Portia. The proposal. The slap. The freezing rain. The Maybach. And Elijah Castanier grabbing my waist in the dark hallway.

My heart did a quick, nervous flip against my ribs.

I sat up, pushing my dark chestnut hair out of my face. I grabbed my thick tortoiseshell glasses off the nightstand, slid them onto my nose, and stood up. My bare feet sank into the deep carpet as I walked toward the bedroom door.

A quiet knock sounded on the wood before the door opened a few inches. Mrs. Mori poked her head inside, holding a small silver tray with a hot cup of tea.

"Good morning, child," Mrs. Mori said softly, her kind brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," I said, taking the cup from her with both hands. "Thank you, Mrs. Mori. For everything last night."

"You don't need to thank me, dear," Mrs. Mori smiled, patting my arm. "Now, drink your tea quickly. The boys are waiting for you in the study."

My body went completely still. "All three of them?"

"All three of them," Mrs. Mori confirmed with a nod. "Elijah asked for you the moment he woke up. Go down the main hall and take a left. It's the glass-walled study."

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry despite the hot tea. "Okay. I'll go right now."

I set the cup down on the nightstand, pulled the long grey sleeves of my oversized sweatshirt over my hands, and stepped out into the hallway.

The penthouse looked even bigger in the daylight. White marble floors, high ceilings, dark leather furniture, and stunning views of the entire city skyline. I walked down the quiet corridor, my heart beating faster with every step I took. I turned left at the end of the hall, stopping right outside a pair of heavy glass doors.

Inside the glass-walled study sat the Golden Trio.

Seeing all three of them together in one room was completely breathtaking and terrifying. They looked like gods commanding an empire.

Elijah Castanier sat behind a massive black marble desk at the center of the room. He wore a crisp, tailored black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, showing off corded, muscular arms built from years of dominating the ice. His jet black hair was cut short and immaculately styled, without a single strand out of place. His sharp jawline was set tight, and his piercing ice-blue eyes were fixed directly on a set of papers in front of him.

To his right stood Karius Hidalgo, leaning his massive six-foot-four frame against the reinforced glass wall. His thick arms were crossed over his broad, barrel chest, stretching the dark henley shirt he wore tightly against his muscles. His dark ash brown hair was military-neat, and his hooded forest green eyes turned toward me the moment the glass door clicked open. The faint scar above his eyebrow stood out in the sharp morning sun.

Sitting on the edge of Elijah’s desk was Chase Castillo.

Chase was six-foot-one with a lean, wiry, athletic build built for speed. His dark brown hair fell in natural, messy waves over his forehead, as if he had just run his fingers through it. He wore a fitted dark vintage band tee, dark jeans, and a thin silver chain around his golden-tanned neck that glinted in the sunlight. His amber-brown eyes sparked with immediate, mischievous interest as he saw me, a playful dimple appearing on his left cheek as his full lips curved into a slow grin.

"Look who finally woke up," Chase said, his deep voice smooth, warm, and full of effortless charm. "Morning, sunshine."

"Shut up, Chase," Elijah commanded softly, his tone cool and dominant. He didn't look up from his papers yet. "Sit down, Cassy."

I hesitated, standing near the doorway. "I can just stand."

"Sit," Elijah repeated.

His voice wasn't loud, but the pure alpha authority vibrating through his words made my legs move on their own. I walked over to the heavy leather chair facing the desk and sat down on the edge of the seat. My small 5’4” frame felt completely swallowed by the furniture, trapped between the three towering athletes.

Karius shifted his broad weight against the glass, pushing off the wall and walking slowly toward the desk. Every step he took was heavy, powerful, and silent. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded white paper, and slid it across the black marble desk straight toward me.

"What's this?" I asked, my hazel eyes darting between the three men.

"Your bill," Karius growled, his deep, stoic voice vibrating through the quiet room.

I picked up the paper with trembling fingers and unfolded it. My eyes scanned the bold numbers printed at the bottom of the official invoice.

My heart completely stopped.

"Forty-five thousand dollars?!" I shrieked, my voice cracking wildly as I stared up at Karius in utter shock. "Are you out of your mind? Forty-five thousand dollars for a scratch and a shirt?!"

"That's not just a scratch, Cassy," Karius said flatly, his dark green eyes unblinking. "That's a five-foot gouge through three layers of custom matte paint imported directly from Germany. The body shop has to strip the entire door panel, prime it, and respray it in a climate-controlled booth."

"And my shirt was a one-of-a-kind designer piece," Karius added, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he took a deep breath. "You threw up all over it."

"I was having a panic attack!" I yelled, pulling my thick glasses up my nose. "I don't have forty-five thousand dollars! I'm a student on a budget! I don't even have forty-five dollars in my checking account right now!"

"We know," Chase chimed in, his amber-brown eyes sparkling with flirtatious amusement as he leaned forward on the desk. "We ran a quick check on you this morning, little analyst. You're broke, your toxic ex-boyfriend just humiliated you on live TV, and your dorm room is currently surrounded by campus reporters."

"You checked my background?" I asked, my fists tightening inside my long grey sweatshirt sleeves. "That's an invasion of privacy!"

"You came into our house, Cassy," Elijah said softly.

He finally raised his head, his ice-blue eyes locking onto mine with absolute, terrifying focus. The temperature in the room felt like it dropped twenty degrees in an instant. His olive skin looked smooth under the office lights, his straight nose and high cheekbones carved like a dangerous statue.

"Anything that enters this penthouse becomes our business," Elijah continued, his deep voice smooth, icy, and totally commanding. "You ruined Karius's car. You ruined his clothes. In the real world, he files a police report, sues you for property damage, and you end up with a criminal record before graduation."

Fresh tears burned the back of my eyes. My chest locked up tight. "Please... I can work it off. I'll get a job at a coffee shop, I'll pay him back every month—"

"You'll be eighty years old before you pay off forty-five grand on a barista salary," Chase interrupted smoothly, flashing his bright, handsome smile. "Lucky for you, Elijah came up with a much better deal."

Elijah reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a fresh, stapled document. He slid it across the sleek marble surface, resting his long, clean fingers on top of the paper.

"This is a legally binding six-month contract," Elijah said, his cold gaze burning straight into my soul. "Live-in Personal Assistant."

I stared at the black title printed across the top of the page. PERSONAL ASSISTANT AGREEMENT.

"What?" I gasped, shaking my head fast. "No. Absolutely not."

"Read the terms before you say no, PA," Elijah instructed, tapping his finger against the desk.

"Your duties are simple," Elijah explained, leaning back in his leather chair and crossing his thick forearms. "You will manage our daily schedules for classes, hockey practices, and media events. You will prepare our specialized athletic nutrition plans and meal preps every morning. You will keep this study clean and organized. And most importantly..."

Elijah paused, his ice-blue eyes narrowing slightly.

"You will live right here in our guest room, under our full supervision, for the next six months," Elijah stated firmly. "In exchange, Karius wipes your forty-five-thousand-dollar debt clean. We provide you with complete security, private transportation, three meals a day, and a place to hide from the media storm your ex caused."

"Under your full supervision?" I repeated, my voice breathless with shock. "You want me to move in with three hockey captains? Are you fucking insane?"

"It's the best offer you're ever going to get, sunshine," Chase said gently, his voice dropping into a rich, warm tone. He slid off the desk, his long, athletic legs carrying him slowly around the back of my leather chair. "Think about it. Out there, you're a viral joke. Hendrix and Portia are going to drag your name through the mud every single day."

Chase stopped right behind my chair. I could feel the intense heat radiating off his body, the sweet smell of his cologne wrapping around me.

"In here," Chase whispered, leaning down over the back of my seat, "nobody can touch you. We protect what's ours."

"I'm not yours!" I snapped, turning my head to glare at him.

Chase just grinned, his amber-brown eyes flashing with playful possessiveness. He didn't step back. Instead, he leaned in closer, his broad chest pressing gently against the back of my shoulders. He was so tall that even while leaning over, his presence completely dominated my space.

"Not yet," Chase murmured, his deep voice vibrating straight through my spine.

"Elijah, please," I begged, looking back at the leader of the group. "I have my own life! I have my sports analytics classes! I can't just move in here and be your servant!"

"You're not a servant, Cassy," Elijah said, his tone flat and unyielding. "You're our assistant. Your classes won't be affected. You will attend your lectures, but you will travel with our security team. Your life as a lonely, overlooked girlfriend hiding in the back rows is over."

"And if I say no?" I challenged, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Karius shifted his massive frame near the window, his deep forest green eyes dark and unreadable. "Then I call my lawyer right now, and you get served with a lawsuit by noon."

I squeezed my eyes shut, my chest heaving with fast, shallow breaths. They had me completely trapped. They knew I had no money, no support, no family nearby, and nowhere to go. Hendrix had taken two years of my life and thrown me to the wolves, and now the three most powerful men on campus were backing me into a corner.

"Sign the paper, Cassy," Elijah commanded softly. He pushed a heavy silver pen across the desk.

I stared at the pen. My hand trembled as I slowly reached out and picked it up. The cool metal felt heavy against my skin.

Before I could bring the pen down to the signature line, Chase moved.

He stepped around the side of my chair, his large frame crowding me completely. He bent down at the waist, hovering directly over my right shoulder. His warm, golden-tanned arm reached out, his long, calloused fingers wrapping firmly around my smaller hand, covering my fingers over the silver pen.

My breath hitched sharply in my throat.

Chase's chest pressed against my back, his broad body trapping me between his heat and the hard wood of the desk. His messy brown hair brushed against my cheek as he leaned his head down, his soft, warm lips hovering a millimeter away from the shell of my ear.

"Let me help you, little analyst," Chase whispered into my ear, his hot breath brushing across my neck and sending an electric, addictive shiver straight down my spine.

"Chase..." I whimpered softly, my body turning completely flush under his intense touch.

"Just slide your name right here," Chase murmured softly, his hand gently guiding my shaking fingers across the bottom line of the contract. His silver chain swung forward, brushing lightly against my shoulder. "That's it. Beautiful."

His touch was so warm, so possessive, so overwhelmingly intense that my brain completely short-circuited. My hand moved smoothly under his guidance, signing Cassandra Amore Del Fierro in delicate cursive script across the line.

The moment the last letter was written, Chase let out a low, satisfied hum against my neck. His thumb rubbed a slow, lingering circle over the back of my wrist before he slowly stood back up to his full six-foot-one height, flashing a triumphant grin at Elijah.

My cheeks were burning hot. My whole body felt like it was on fire. I pulled my hand back, clutching my long grey sweatshirt tight around my chest.

Elijah reached across the desk and pulled the signed contract toward himself. He scanned my signature carefully, his sharp, dark jawline relaxing just a fraction.

Then, Elijah slowly reached out with his long index finger and tapped the paper three times, a sharp, loud sound that echoed through the quiet glass study.

He raised his head, his cold, piercing ice-blue eyes locking directly onto mine with an absolute, possessive claim that made my heart stop in my chest.

"Rule number one, PA," Elijah declared, his deep, commanding voice filling the entire room with absolute authority. "You don't look at or touch any other man on this campus again."