Romantic date with my billionaire CEO

The email landed in my inbox at 8:32 a.m., and for a solid ten seconds, I just stared at it. From: HR Department Subject: Meeting with CEO – 9:15 a.m. I blinked, checked the date, then checked again just in case I’d woken up in an alternate universe. “What did you do?” Tina’s voice carried over the cubicle wall like a warning siren. “Nothing,” I said, too quickly. Tina popped her head over, grinning like a cat about to watch a mouse run into a trap. “Bella, Adrian Blackwood doesn’t call random employees to his office unless it’s something big.” “Comforting.” She shrugged. “Could be a promotion. Could be you’re getting fired. Either way, you’ll be famous by lunchtime.” I rolled my eyes, but my stomach was twisting into a double knot. I’d only been in the marketing department for ten months. The CEO barely knew I existed. Now, apparently, I was being summoned. I took a sip of coffee, set it down, then grabbed my notepad and pen. If I was going to walk into Adrian Blackwood’s office, I needed something to do with my hands besides wring them. The elevator ride to the top floor felt like being slowly pulled up the first hill of a roller coaster. The doors slid open to reveal a reception area that smelled faintly of expensive cologne and polished ambition. “Miss Harris?” the receptionist said with a polite smile. “You can go in. He’s expecting you.” Expecting me. Like I was someone important. The office door was glass and heavy, and the second I pushed it open, I understood why everyone called him intimidating. Adrian Blackwood sat behind a desk the size of a small car, the Manhattan skyline glittering behind him. His suit was tailored to perfection, his hair dark and effortlessly styled, and his steel-gray eyes were the kind that made you want to check if your soul was still intact after they landed on you. “Miss Harris,” he said, voice deep and calm. “Sit.” I did, perching on the edge of the chair like I was ready to run at any second. “Do you know why you’re here?” “No, sir.” “My assistant resigned this morning.” “Oh.” “You’re replacing her.” I blinked. “Me?” “Yes, you.” His tone left no room for negotiation. “You’re efficient, discreet, and you have the ability to think on your feet. Those are rare qualities.” I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a warning. “Thank you… I think.” “First assignment—client meeting at noon. You’ll take notes and handle follow-up. Second—bring your passport. We leave for Paris in two days.” I sat back. “Paris?” “Yes. Meetings, dinners, networking events. Pack accordingly.” His gaze swept over me once, assessing. “And call me Adrian.” “Alright… Adrian.” The corner of his mouth twitched like he was suppressing a smile. “Good. Let’s see if you can keep up.” The next three hours were a whirlwind. I was handed a laptop, a stack of schedules, and a phone that already had my fingerprints all over it by the time I learned how to transfer calls. I barely had time to process what just happened when Tina appeared at my desk. “You’re the CEO’s assistant now?” she hissed. “Apparently.” “And you’re going to Paris?” “Apparently.” She grinned like Christmas had come early—except it wasn’t her present. “You’re living my dream, Bella.” “Pretty sure this is more like a stress test.” At 11:50, Adrian appeared at my desk, every step purposeful. “Ready?” “As I’ll ever be.” The meeting was brutal. Three clients, two hours, and enough business jargon to make my head spin. I typed until my fingers ached, catching the gist of their discussion even when I didn’t understand every term. Afterward, Adrian stopped by my desk. “You kept up.” “Thanks.” “Next time, don’t just take notes—if you have ideas, share them.” I hesitated, unsure if he meant it or was testing me. “Alright.” “Dinner tonight. Seven. Wear something formal.” I blinked. “Dinner?” “Business dinner,” he clarified, though the look in his eyes didn’t feel entirely businesslike. “I’ll text you the location.” At seven sharp, I stepped into a dimly lit restaurant that probably cost more than my monthly rent per plate. Adrian was already there, seated at a table tucked into the far corner, looking like a man who could buy the place if he wanted to. “Miss Harris,” he said, standing briefly as I approached. “Adrian.” He gestured for me to sit, and the dinner began. At first, it was all contracts, strategies, client lists. But somewhere between the main course and dessert, the conversation shifted. “What do you actually want, Bella?” he asked suddenly. I hesitated. “In my career?” “In life.” The question caught me off guard. “I guess… I want to do something that matters. Something I can be proud of.” He leaned back, studying me like I’d just passed a test I didn’t know I was taking. When the bill came, he paid without even glancing at the total. As we stepped outside, the city lights reflected in his eyes. “I’ll see you at six a.m. Friday,” he said. “For Paris?” “For Paris.” The next morning, my phone buzzed before my alarm. Adrian: Send me a copy of your passport and make sure you’re packed. The trip might be longer than expected. Longer than expected. And I had no idea what I was really walking into.