48 Hours A Day Novels & Stories

The clock had started. Twenty-four hours.

“Which I intend to do. Very closely.” She let out a breathless laugh, then dropped her head to his chest. His fingers tightened on her hip. “Eight hours a day, five days a week.” Elena’s stomach flipped. The thought of seeing him every day, of being close enough to touch but never close enough, it was equal parts thrilling and torturous. “You’re insane,” she breathed. “You’ll be in front of me every damn day. Wearing those tight skirts and calling me sir in front of my employees. You have no idea the kind of self-control I'm gonna require.”

I was a nodded my head in determination while looking in his eyes seriously to which he nodded his head back a little and continued saying. "Working hours tend to be from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. in weekdays . But working overtime is expected and some rules like a celebrity PA, must require you to be on-hand 24/7." He said this quite arrogantly and I also tried my best not to roll my eyes on him and just nodded my head and bit my lower lips. "I understand sir. Anything else....?" I asked him in a complete professional tone. At first he eyed me strangely , and then cleared his throat and said in a uncertain voice.

We returned to the condo the next day and decided we would move on Wednesday. Min had to be at the restaurant every day but he could take a break from Wednesday to Friday. The weekends were expected to be packed because the first day was a huge success and the men returned at six P.m. He had called me at least ten times today and each time he spent at least ten minutes talking to me. I kept asking if he didn't need to focus, and he said he had to and he was focusing on me. He was so cute and romantic and knew all the right words to say.

He said no wrong. “The others were able to sustain eight hours and create a magical source of protection for the box for a whole day. As for you, seven hours is good enough, I'm not sure if you can protect everyone, but remember that safety comes first. Four hours a day, the remaining MANA protects the box.” I nodded heavily, telling myself to force myself to bring these poor people to safety no matter what. “Miss Iowa, when you need help, just call me, and I'll give you a hand.”

Timeframe? ‘Forty-eight hours. The message should be that his next meeting with me is his only chance to avoid a permanent solution.’ ‘Understood.’

She can't give them any details right now because she doesn't know whether this really was from the court or some douche was just playing tricks on them. The only thing that she can give them is the minor details. “To the court.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ According to some research, an average full-time worker spends about 8.5 hours working a day. That may sound like a lot of time to the “Average full-time worker” that this research was referring to, but for Shawn, it sounds like heaven. Now, don't get him wrong— he loved running his family's business.

Katrina asked almost immediately, even though I didn’t raise my head to glance at the screen, I could tell she was glaring at him. “Everyone will have to work At Least sixteen hours a day instead of the usual eight hours. They’ll also have to work the whole seven days instead of thrice a week,” Becky analyzed. “Well good luck convincing them to do that,” Katrina said. “We should be able to pull that off if we convince them right?!” Cole said, turning to Becky and she nodded slowly in reply. Katrina scoffed, probably stopping herself from laughing as she turned to my frame on the screen. “Relationship guys and thinking they can achieve anything and everything, this is almost impossible!”

I just shrugged at them. “What?” I said to them, “It’s going to come out as shit from my butthole anyway so why bother?” They just rolled their eyes. The rest of the four remaining working days of the week has been the same routine: we rise up at around six, their Omegas serve us breakfast, we work for eight hours with only two glasses quenching our thirst every three hours, and we have our rather simple dinner.

I nodded, my throat feeling too tight to speak. “Now, the schedule.” He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the desk, eyes locked on mine. “You’ll work six days a week. You’ll live at the house to care for Ava full-time, and you will have Sundays free. You may leave on Saturday evenings after her dinner, but you must return to the house on Monday morning before eight. Is that clear?”