The Billionaire’s Enemy Has His Child

The King Enterprises building in Manhattan had fifty floors of glass and steel, and Elena Rose felt every single floor looking down at her. She stood in the lobby, clutching her old tote bag, trying to fix the loose thread on her borrowed blazer. The blazer belonged to her roommate, Maya. It was a size too big, and it smelled faintly of cheap perfume. Her own clothes were in the laundry, and she had not had time to iron them. Her phone buzzed again in her bag. For the third time in ten minutes. She knew without looking. Mercy Hospital. The final notice for her mother's bill. $12,480. Due tomorrow. If she didn't pay it, they would send it to collections. And her mother, who was already working twelve hours a day at the diner in Ohio despite her weak heart, would never forgive herself. "Elena Rose ?" The receptionist on the 50th floor finally called her name, without even looking up from her perfect manicure. "Mr. Knight will see you now. A piece of advice? Don't sit unless he tells you to. Don't speak unless he asks. And don't waste his time. He has fired three assistants this month. One of them actually cried in the elevator." Elena's throat went dry. She nodded, her heart pounding so loud she was sure everyone could hear it. She pushed open the heavy double oak doors. The office was not an office. It was an entire world. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking all of Manhattan, a black marble floor so clean she could see her own reflection, and absolute, terrifying silence. No photos. No plants. Nothing soft. And behind a desk the size of a small car, stood a man. Adrian Knight. He was not looking at her. He was facing the window, on the phone, his broad shoulders tense under a perfectly tailored black suit. His voice was low, calm, but every word cut like ice. "I don't care what the board thinks, Marcus. I built this company from a garage with two thousand dollars. If they want to sell their shares, let them sell. I will buy them all myself." He hung up without saying goodbye. Then, slowly, he turned around. Elena had seen him in Forbes, in Business Insider, on the news. But magazines did not do him justice. He was taller than she expected, maybe six foot three, with dark, messy hair like he had run his hands through it too many times, a sharp jaw that looked like it was carved from stone, and eyes. Eyes that were a furious, cold blue. Those eyes landed on her and did a quick, dismissive scan from her worn-out shoes to her borrowed blazer. "You must be the next desperate girl," he said. His voice was deeper in person. "My assistant said you graduated top of your class at NYU, with honors. Yet your resume shows you have been unemployed for the last six months, working at a bookstore for minimum wage. Explain." He didn't offer her a seat. He didn't offer his hand. Elena swallowed. "My mother was sick, Mr. Knight. She had a heart surgery. I had to go back to Ohio to take care of her. I just moved back to New York last month." "So now you need money," he said. It wasn't a question. He picked up her thin resume from his desk between two fingers, as if it was contaminated. "You have no corporate experience. No internships at real companies. You worked at a campus library and your mother's diner. Why should I hire you?" Because I have no other choice, she wanted to scream. Because if I don't get this job, we will lose everything. Instead, she lifted her chin. "Because I learn faster than anyone you have ever met, Mr. Knight. Because I am not afraid of hard work. And because I actually read your company's last three annual reports before coming here, which I doubt your last three assistants did." That made him pause. A flicker of something - surprise, or maybe amusement - crossed his cold face. "Interesting," he murmured, walking around his desk. He moved like a predator, slow, controlled. He stopped just inches away from her. Too close. She could smell his cologne, something expensive and clean and masculine. "My last assistant told me I was her worst enemy. She cried when I asked her to redo a financial report at two in the morning because she had a typo." "I won't cry, Mr. Knight," Elena said quietly, but her voice was steady. "Everyone cries, Miss Rose," he whispered. "Especially when they work for me." At that exact moment, her phone buzzed again. Loud, vibrating in the silent office. Elena flinched, her face turning red. Adrian's eyes dropped to her bag. "Answer it." "It's not important, sir. It's just-" "I said answer it." With trembling hands, Elena pulled out her cracked iPhone. The screen flashed: MERCY HOSPITAL BILLING DEPT. She quickly pressed decline and shoved it back in her bag, humiliation burning her cheeks. But Adrian had seen it. "Hospital," he said. "Debt. How much?" Elena stared at the floor. "It's none of your business, Mr. Knight." "Everything about my assistant is my business. How much?" She hesitated, then the truth fell out. "$12,480. For my mother's surgery." He didn't say anything for a long time. Then he walked back to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a leather checkbook. He uncapped a black pen and wrote quickly. He tore the check and held it out to her. Elena walked forward and took it with a shaking hand. It was a check for $12,480. Signed, Adrian Knight. Her mouth dropped open. "What... what is this?" "Your signing bonus," he said, his face emotionless again. "If you can survive one week working for me without quitting, without crying, and without making a single mistake, that money is yours. No need to pay it back. But if you quit before Friday at 5 PM, you owe me double. $24,960. In writing." It was the most arrogant, insulting, controlling thing anyone had ever done to her. He was buying her desperation. He knew she couldn't say no. She looked at the check. Then at his cold blue eyes. She thought of her mother, praying in their small kitchen in Ohio. She folded the check and put it in her bag. "I won't quit, Mr. Knight," she said, her voice full of fire for the first time. "And I don't cry for bosses." A slow, dangerous smile spread across Adrian's lips. It was the first time he had smiled, and it made him look even more handsome and even more cruel. "We shall see, Miss Rose . You start right now. My coffee, black, no sugar, exactly 140 degrees. Not 139, not 141. And get rid of that blazer. You look like you are going to traffic court, not working for the CEO of King Enterprises. My assistant is going to send you to the wardrobe department." Elena's fists clenched inside her bag, around the check that would save her mother. This man was arrogant, ruthless, and her absolute worst enemy. She had no idea that this same man, exactly four years from tonight, would be standing in the rain outside her tiny apartment, begging her to let him meet his own son - a little boy with the same furious blue eyes as his father.