CHAPTER 3: THE PRIVATE ASSISTANT

AMBER HART POV

By the third day, my body was entirely fueled by pure adrenaline and cheap instant coffee. Kalix Jace Smith was not a human being; he was a machine that ran on efficiency and expected everyone else to do the same.

My routine was brutal. Wake up at four-thirty, prep his exact breakfast, hand over his tablet, and then spend the rest of the day running around the estate or handling his personal errands. I spent hours organizing his private library by color and author, scheduling his dry cleaning, and making sure his favorite sparkling water was always stocked in his study.

The hardest part wasn't the physical labor. It was the absolute silence. Kalix barely spoke to me. When he did, it was usually a sharp command or a cold critique.

"Amber, these files need to be shredded by noon."

"Amber, this shirt has a microscopic crease. Fix it."

"Amber, the coffee is twenty seconds late."

Every time he barked an order, I just swallowed my pride, nodded, and said, "Right away, Mr. Smith." I kept reminding myself of the ten thousand dollars. That money was my ticket out of this mess. I just needed to survive the week.

On Thursday afternoon, Martha found me in the kitchen while I was wiping down the marble countertops for the third time that day.

"Amber, stop scrubbing before you wear a hole through the stone," Martha said, offering me a sympathetic smile. "Mr. Smith just called from the office. He's coming home early today. Some foreign investors are arriving tomorrow, and he needs all his personal documents for the partnership deal organized before tonight."

I dropped the rag into the sink. "Did he say what time he'd be back?"

"In ten minutes," Martha replied, handing me a massive stack of leather-bound folders. "These are from his home safe. He wants them arranged chronologically by year on his desk. Don't mess this up, dear. He's incredibly stressed about this deal."

"I'm on it," I said, grabbing the folders.

I rushed up to the third floor and walked into his private study. The room smelled faintly of expensive wood and cologne—a scent I was unfortunately becoming very familiar with. I spread the folders across the large mahogany desk and started organizing them.

2023, 2024, 2025...

I was halfway through the pile when the heavy double doors of the master suite slammed open downstairs. I heard his heavy, fast-paced footsteps ascending the stairs. He sounded pissed.

A moment later, Kalix stormed into the study. His tie was already loosened, his dark hair slightly messy as if he had been running his fingers through it all day. He looked furious, his jaw clenched so tightly I thought it might crack.

He didn't even look at me. He just threw his leather briefcase onto the couch and started pacing.

"Sir? Are you alright?" I asked tentatively, holding a folder against my chest.

"Does it look like I'm alright?" he snapped, his cold glare snapping to me. "The legal team messed up the compliance clauses for the merger. If I don't review the entire five-hundred-page contract and rewrite the terms by midnight, the investors are going to pull out."

He sat down heavily in his leather chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. For a split second, the terrifying, untouchable billionaire vanished. He just looked like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

But the vulnerability lasted only a second. He looked up, his eyes sharp again. "Where are the 2026 tax portfolios?"

"Right here, sir," I said, quickly sliding the correct folder into his reach. "And I've already arranged the rest of the years chronologically from bottom to top."

Kalix blinked, looking at the neat stack on his desk. He opened the folder I gave him, verified the contents, and let out a long breath. "Good. At least someone in this house is doing their job properly."

It was the closest thing to a compliment he had ever given me. My chest tightened slightly, but I forced myself to stay professional. "Do you want me to prepare an espresso, Mr. Smith? It's going to be a long night."

"Make it a double," he muttered, already opening his laptop. "And stay close. I'll need you to cross-reference the physical documents while I edit the digital contract."

"Yes, sir."

For the next four hours, the study turned into a war room. Kalix worked at a terrifying speed, typing furiously, scanning pages, and barking out numbers.

"Amber, check page forty-two of the 2024 financial report. What's the net margin?"

"Sixteen point four percent, sir," I answered within five seconds, flipping through the pages.

"Amber, find the clause regarding international trade compliance."

"Folder three, tab B, page seven," I replied, handing it to him.

We worked in perfect sync. I didn't complain, I didn't slow down, and I didn't make a single mistake. Every time he needed something, I was already holding it out to him.

By nine PM, the room was completely silent except for the sound of his typing. I was standing near the bookshelf, my legs aching from hours of standing, but I refused to sit down.

Suddenly, the screen of Kalix's laptop went black.

He froze. He pressed a few keys, but nothing happened. He tried the power button. Still nothing.

"What the hell?" Kalix muttered, his voice dripping with venom. "No, no, no. Not right now."

"What's wrong, sir?" I asked, walking over to the desk.

"The laptop crashed. It's completely unresponsive," he said, slamming his hands onto the desk. He looked like he was about to rip the computer apart. "The entire revised contract was on there. I hadn't saved the final draft to the cloud yet. If I lose that data, the deal is dead."

Panic surged through me, but I forced myself to breathe. "Let me see it."

"Are you an IT expert now, Amber?" he asked, his tone mocking but desperate.

"I worked at a diner where the digital ordering system crashed every single weekend, Mr. Smith," I said, pulling the laptop toward me. "Just give me a second."

I checked the side ports. The charging light wasn't on. I traced the black cord down to the floor and realized the power strip under the desk had been kicked, flipping the switch to the 'off' position. The laptop hadn't crashed; the battery had just drained completely while he was working.

I flipped the power strip back on. A tiny blue light flickered to life. I plugged the charger securely into the laptop and pressed the power button. A few seconds later, the screen lit up, showing the login prompt.

"It was just out of juice, sir," I said softly, sliding the laptop back to him. "Your autosave should have captured everything up to the last two minutes."

Kalix stared at the screen, then looked up at me. The annoyance in his eyes was completely gone, replaced by something I couldn't quite read. It looked almost like respect.

"You're surprisingly resourceful," he said, his voice quiet.

"I have to be," I replied simply. "When you don't have a safety net, you learn how to fix things yourself."

He didn't say anything to that. He just logged back into his computer, verified that the file was safe, and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"Go down to the kitchen and get yourself something to eat, Amber," he said, his tone softer than usual. "You've done enough for tonight. I can handle the rest from here."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Go," he repeated, looking back at his screen. "That's an order."

"Thank you, Mr. Smith. Goodnight," I said, bowing my head.

I turned and walked out of the study, closing the door quietly behind me. The hallway was dark and peaceful. As I walked toward the service elevator, I looked down at my hands. They weren't shaking anymore.

I reached the ground floor and walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Just as I poured it, the main entrance doors of the mansion burst open.

A tall, glamorous woman in an expensive red dress and high heels walked into the foyer, looking furious. Two heavy designer suitcases were dropped at her feet by a terrified-looking security guard.

"Where is Kalix?" the woman demanded, her voice echoing loudly through the house. "Tell him his fiancée is home."

I set my glass down on the counter, the water splashing over the rim.