Chapter-8
2283 Words
Aaira stepped into the grand Black mansion, her posture stiff, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Today was the first day of her forced servitude as Arthur Black’s assistant, and she was already in a foul mood. As much as she wanted to walk away, she knew she had no choice.
She found Grandma Black seated in the living room, her usual warm smile gracing her wrinkled face.
“Good morning, dear,” Grandma greeted kindly. “You’re here early.”
Aaira forced a polite smile and nodded. “Good morning, Grandma. "I came on time as per Arthur’s instructions.” Her voice had a bite to it. “Where is he?”
Grandma sighed, shaking her head. “Still asleep, child.”
Aaira blinked, processing the information. “Still asleep?” she repeated, her irritation bubbling to the surface.
“Yes,” Grandma chuckled. “He usually sleeps late when he’s home." He isn’t a morning person.”
Aaira gritted her teeth. Unbelievable! The man who had made such a big deal about punctuality, who had practically ruined her life to ensure she was at his beck and call, was still asleep?
She clenched her jaw and forced herself to sit beside Grandma instead of marching upstairs and dumping a bucket of ice water over Arthur’s arrogant face. Calm down, Aaira. Don't lose your temper in front of Grandma.
“Where’s Aarsh, dear?” Grandma asked, breaking the tension.
“He left for his dorm yesterday morning,” Aaira answered softly.
Grandma nodded and reached for the teapot. “Would you like some tea?”
Aaira exhaled, unclenching her fists. “Yes, please. I’d love some.”
She needed something warm to calm the storm inside her. Taking the teacup from Grandma, she forced herself to relax. She didn’t want to worry the kind old woman with her frustration.
As she sipped, Grandma placed a gentle hand over hers. “Aaira, dear… please bear with Arthur. He has a very good heart, but he has suffered severe betrayals in the past. His trust issues make him act out, but deep down, he isn’t as cruel as he seems.”
Aaira pursed her lips. She wanted to argue, to tell Grandma that her grandson was nothing short of a manipulative tyrant, but she bit her tongue.
“He’s… difficult,” she admitted instead. “But I’ll do my best, Grandma.”
Grandma smiled, squeezing her hand. “That’s all I ask.”
An hour passed, and Arthur still hadn’t shown his face. Aaira sat rigidly, checking the time again and again. She wasn’t going to waste her entire morning waiting for him to wake up like some royal brat.
Enough was enough.
With steely determination, she stood up and looked at Grandma. “Excuse me, Grandma. I think it’s time Arthur Black learns the meaning of responsibility.”
Grandma chuckled knowingly, waving her off. “Go easy on him, child.”
Aaira marched through the grand halls and up the elegant staircase, her footsteps deliberate and loud. When she reached Arthur’s room, which was left in the corridor, the last room, she didn’t bother knocking. Instead, she pushed the door open and was immediately hit with the faint scent of expensive cologne and something distinctly him.
The room itself was nothing short of magnificent. Deep mahogany paneling lined the walls, adding a rich warmth to the space. A massive chandelier, dripping with intricate crystal details, hung from the high ceiling, casting a soft golden glow over the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows were framed by heavy, navy-blue drapes, the fabric so thick it absorbed sound, muffling the outside world. A plush Persian rug, woven in shades of deep crimson and gold, sprawled across the polished wooden floor, complementing the luxurious aesthetic.
To the left, a grand antique bookshelf stood tall, its dark wood shelves filled with an array of books—some leather-bound classics, others modern business journals. A sleek, black marble fireplace rested beneath an ornate mirror, the fire inside crackling softly, adding to the room’s intoxicating ambiance. A set of matching armchairs, upholstered in deep burgundy velvet, sat by the fireplace, an open book and a half-full glass of whiskey resting on the small table between them.
The bed itself was a masterpiece. An oversized headboard, tufted in midnight-blue velvet, stretched up to the ceiling, making the already spacious bed feel even grander. The silk sheets shimmered under the dim light, a stark contrast against his tanned skin.
There he was, sprawled across the massive king-sized bed, one arm draped lazily over his face, the other resting across his bare torso. The sheets were low on his waist, and his dark hair was tousled, giving him an annoyingly attractive, roguish look. Even in sleep, Arthur exuded an aura of power, a man who commanded attention, even when utterly relaxed. The room, much like the man himself, was refined yet effortlessly alluring, an intimate reflection of his personality—opulent, structured, and undeniably captivating.
Aaira scowled. He looked like he had no worries in the world while I was forced into this job.
Well, that was about to change.
She stormed towards the bed, grabbed the nearest pillow, and slammed it over his face.
Arthur groaned, shifting slightly. “Mmm… five more minutes,” he mumbled, half-asleep.
“Oh, no, Mr. Black,” Aaira said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You made me wake up at the c***k of dawn to be at your service. Now it’s your turn to suffer.”
He cracked one eye open and smirked sleepily. “So eager to see me in bed, Miss Han?”
Aaira’s nostrils flared. This insufferable man!h
She grabbed the glass of water from his nightstand and unceremoniously poured it over his face.
Arthur sputtered, bolting upright. “What the hell?!”
“Good morning, sir,” she said sweetly, arms crossed. “It’s 9 AM, and your assistant has been waiting for over an hour.”
Arthur wiped his wet face with his hand and glared at her. “You’re insane.”
“No, you’re a hypocrite.” She threw the empty glass onto the bed beside him. “You ruined my life because you demanded I be here on time, but you couldn’t even wake up?”
Arthur’s lips curled into an amused smirk. “So, you’re angry because you missed out on your beauty sleep?”
Aaira let out a humorless laugh. “I’m angry because I’m stuck working for a spoiled, arrogant, entitled—”
Arthur suddenly grabbed her wrist, yanking her towards him. She stumbled, her hands landing on his bare chest.
Her breath hitched. Damn him.
“You’re walking on dangerous ground, Miss Han,” he murmured, his voice low. “Do you really think you can challenge me and win?”
Aaira looked into his piercing green eyes, her heart pounding. “I’m not afraid of you, Arthur Black.”
His smirk widened. “We’ll see about that.”
Still holding her wrist, he leaned in slightly, just enough to make her uncomfortable. Aaira refused to back down. She was not going to let him intimidate her.
Arthur studied her for a moment before finally releasing her. “You’re feisty,” he commented, stretching as he got out of bed. “This is going to be fun.”
Aaira crossed her arms, glaring as he strolled to his closet. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re stuck with me.” He winked before disappearing behind the closet doors.
Aaira headed down the stairs to the living room and waited for him to come down but, after what felt like an eternity, Arthur finally emerged from his bedroom around 10 AM, stretching lazily as if he hadn’t ordered her to be here two hours ago. He is not yet ready. He was still in his night suit, what he was doing past hour that fueled Aaira’s anger more.
“You’re late,” he commented nonchalantly, running a hand through his messy hair.
Arthur smirked at her indignation. “Well, I like my sleep. And you’re my assistant, not my alarm clock.”
Her fists clenched. She wanted to strangle him. “Then why did you demand I be here at 8 AM?”
Arthur tilted his head, pretending to think. “Oh, just to test your dedication.”
“You—!” Aaira took a deep breath before she said something that would get her fired. “Fine. What do you need me to do first, your highness?”
Arthur’s smirk deepened. “Go pick out my clothes.”
Aaira rolled her eyes but complied, stomping into his massive walk-in closet. Only to get a big shock. The closet was a mess. All his clothes were on the floor. She got furious and thought this was what he had been doing in the past hour. She began to tidy his closet, which took her an hour to complete tidying all the clothes, then she began pulling out a crisp white shirt and navy blue trousers when she heard a low chuckle behind her.
“You know, it’s rude to ignore someone in their own room.”
She said, without turning back," you know it is very childish to mess up the closet then,
She turned around -- and froze.
Arthur stood just a few steps away, his toned body on full display, a towel hanging loosely around his waist. Droplets of water slid down his chest, making it painfully clear that he had just stepped out of the shower.
Aaira’s face turned scarlet.
“Y-You—Why aren’t you dressed?!” she stammered, her hands fumbling with the clothes she was holding.
Arthur took a slow step forward, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “You walked in on me, Miss Han. Should I be the one embarrassed?”
Her heart pounded as she instinctively tried to move past him, but he swiftly blocked her way, trapping her between him and the closet door.
“Going somewhere?” he murmured.
Aaira swallowed hard. “Move.”
Arthur leaned in slightly, smirking at her flustered state. “Admit it, you’re intrigued.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Admit it, you’re a menace.”
Arthur chuckled before stepping back, finally letting her escape. “Alright, alright. I’ll spare you—for now.”
Aaira bolted out of the room, cursing him under her breath. But before she could recover from the embarrassment, his next words froze her mid-step.
“Now, go to the kitchen and make me ten different dishes within an hour.”
She spun around, gaping at him. “Are you insane?”
Arthur simply shrugged. “I’m not a picky eater. Surprise me.”
Aaira inhaled sharply. This man was impossible.
Running a frustrated hand through her hair. This was only day one, and she already wanted to strangle him.
One thing was clear—this wasn’t just a job.
It was war.
Aaira stormed into the kitchen, tying her apron aggressively. Ten dishes in one hour? He was clearly trying to break her, but if he thought she would crumble this easily, he was dead wrong. Lucky she is the chef, and she thought of making her hometown dishes. They were quick for her to do so. She worked quickly, chopping, stirring, and frying with an intensity fueled by her frustration. The kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of spices and sauces as she moved with expert precision, her skills as a chef shining through. Time ticked away, and sweat trickled down her forehead, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of failing.
Exactly one hour later, she stepped back, panting slightly as she surveyed the counter filled with dishes. There were hot puttu, pongal, masala dosa, idly, vada, sambar, poori, idiyappam, a fresh salad, and even a bowl of soup.
Arthur walked in, casually rolling up his sleeves. He glanced at the spread before him, then at Aaira, who had her arms crossed, daring him to complain.
He picked up a fork and took a bite of the vada. His expression remained neutral as he chewed.
“Well?” she demanded.
Arthur swallowed, then nodded approvingly. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” she repeated incredulously. “I nearly burned my hands off for this!”
Arthur smirked. “Fine. It’s excellent. Happy?”
Aaira huffed but secretly felt a twinge of satisfaction.
He continued tasting each dish, showing no sign of stopping. After a while, he looked up. “You cooked all your traditional dishes in an hour?”
“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to clean up—”
Arthur shook his head. “No need. You did well. I’ll have the staff handle it.”
She blinked in surprise. “You’re… letting me off?”
He shrugged. “Consider it a reward.”
Aaira stared at him suspiciously. “You’re up to something.”
Arthur chuckled. “Always. But for now, you can relax.”
She didn’t trust his sudden kindness, but she was too exhausted to argue.
As she turned to leave, Arthur’s voice stopped her.
“Aaira.”
She looked over her shoulder.
His gaze was unreadable, but his usual arrogance was missing. “You did well today.”
For the first time, there was no teasing, no mockery—just an unexpected hint of genuine acknowledgment.
Aaira was too stunned to respond. Instead, she nodded and walked away, her heart unexpectedly lighter.
Maybe—just maybe—this job wouldn’t be completely unbearable after all.
To be continued…..
- Writer
