First task

Chapter nine

Martina’s POV 

My throat tightens, but I force the words out.

“I need this job.”

The room falls quiet again.

Herrick studies me—really studies me this time. Not just the clothes, not just the lateness… but me. Like he’s trying to decide if I’m worth the inconvenience.

Or already a mistake.

“Then act like it,” he says finally.

His tone is flat. Final.

Not a warning.

A command.

“Yes, sir,” I reply quickly, straightening my posture.

For a brief second, something shifts in his expression—almost like approval.

Almost. Then it’s gone.

“Fix my tie.”

I blink. “Sir?”

His gaze sharpens. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

My heart jumps.

“No, sir.”

I step closer, my hands suddenly unsure of what to do. I’ve seen people tie ties before—on TV, on the streets—but actually doing it?

That’s different.

Up close, he’s even more intimidating.

Tall and composed.

I can smell his cologne—clean, expensive, nothing like the cheap scents I’m used to passing by on busy streets. My fingers tremble slightly as I reach for the tie around his neck.

Focus, Martina.

Just do it.

I lift the fabric carefully, trying to remember the steps. Over, under—no, that’s not right.

My fingers fumble.

Heat creeps up my neck.

“I…” I start, my voice betraying me. “I’m sorry, I—”

“You don’t know how to tie a tie?” he asks.

Not surprised.

Just… unimpressed.

I swallow. “No, sir.”

A pause.

Then, unexpectedly—

His hand reaches up and stops mine.

The contact is brief, but it sends a jolt through me.

“Watch,” he says.

His fingers move smoothly, effortlessly looping the tie into place like it’s second nature. Precise. Controlled. Perfect.

Of course.

Everything about him is.

I quickly step back, lowering my gaze again.

“I’ll learn,” I say quietly.

“You should,” he replies.

Another pause.

Then he walks past me, his shoulder brushing mine slightly—not enough to be called intentional… but not accidental either.

“Your job isn’t just to show up,” he continues, picking up his watch from the table. “It’s to anticipate. To prepare. To not make mistakes.”

Each word feels directed. Personal.

“I understand, sir.”

“Good.”

He fastens his watch, then glances at me again.

“First rule,” he says. “You don’t come late.”

My fingers tighten slightly. “Yes, sir.”

“Second rule—you don’t argue.”

“I won’t.”

“Third rule—” He pauses, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “—you don’t bring your problems into my house.”

That one hits.

Hard.

For a split second, my mind flashes to my mom… the hospital bills… the money still not enough.

I nod anyway.

“Yes, sir.”

He studies me for a moment longer, like he knows there’s more I’m not saying.

But he doesn’t ask.

He simply turns away.

“Kitchen,” he says. “You’ll get your instructions from Mrs. Lily.”

I bend slightly and pick up his suitcase, the weight of it heavier than I expected—not just physically, but in a way that reminds me again that this is real.

This is my job now.

Herrick walks ahead without looking back, his steps calm, unhurried… like he has all the time in the world.

I follow quickly behind him, trying to match his pace without making it obvious.

Outside, the morning air is fresher, quieter compared to the tension inside the house. The car is already waiting—a sleek, expensive-looking vehicle that practically screams power.

The driver rushes to open the back door.

“Good morning, sir,” he greets respectfully.

Herrick gives a small nod and slides into the car without a word.

I hesitate for a brief second.

Do I…?

Before I can overthink it, the driver glances at me. “You can get in.”

I nod quickly. “Thank you.”

Clutching the suitcase, I step in carefully, trying not to disturb anything. The interior is spotless, the faint scent of leather and something expensive filling the space.

The door shuts.

Moments later, the driver gets into his seat, and the car pulls out smoothly, gliding through the large gates and into the main road.

Silence settles inside the car.

I sit upright, the suitcase resting beside me, my hands folded tightly on my lap. I’m hyper-aware of everything—my breathing, my posture, the distance between us.

Herrick doesn’t say anything.

He’s on his phone, scrolling through something, his expression unreadable as always.

Minutes pass. Then suddenly

“Stop the car.”

His voice cuts through the silence sharply.

The driver immediately obeys, pulling over to the side of the road.

My heart skips.

Did I do something wrong?

The car comes to a smooth halt.

Then

“Martina.”

The way he says my name is calm, but it still sends a slight tension through me.

Like a reminder.

Like ownership.

“Yes, sir,” I respond quickly.

He finally looks at me, his gaze direct, assessing.

“This is your first task.”

My stomach tightens.

“You’re going to meet a business partner on my behalf,” he continues, his tone strictly professional. “I can’t go myself—I have somewhere more important to be.”

More important.

The words settle quietly, but I don’t react.

I just nod.

“Yes, sir.”

“He’ll tell you what needs to be done when you get there,” Herrick adds, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a card. He extends it toward me.

I take it carefully.

My fingers brush his for the briefest second.

“This address,” he says. “Don’t be late.”

My grip on the card tightens.

“I won’t be.”

He watches me for a moment longer, like he’s measuring my confidence… or my fear.

Maybe both.

“I expect you at the office within the next hour,” he continues. “Handle it properly.”

One hour.

My chest tightens again.

“Yes, sir,” I repeat, more firmly this time.

A pause.

Then he leans back slightly, already losing interest, his attention shifting elsewhere.

“Get out.”

I swallow, quickly opening the door and stepping out of the car, the morning noise rushing back around me.

Before I can even fully steady myself, the door shuts behind me.

And just like that—

The car drives off.

Leaving me standing alone by the roadside, clutching a suitcase and a card… in a place I’ve never been before.

I look down at the address again.

My first task.

My first test.

I take a deep breath.

“Don’t mess this up,” I whisper to myself.

Then I straighten my shoulders and start walking.