CHAPTER 1
1103 Words
The morning sunlight hit her face like karma.
Ariella groaned, burying her head under the pillow.
“Five more minutes,” she mumbled.
But the universe had other plans.
“c**k-A-DOODLE-DOOOOOOO!”
Ariella shot up, heart racing. “WHAT THE f**k”
She blinked, eyes darting toward the window. And there, standing proudly on the porch railing, was an actual rooster — bright red feathers, golden tail, screaming like it had a personal vendetta.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “The billionaire has livestock.”
The rooster crowed again, louder.
Ariella stormed out in pajamas and messy hair, ready to murder whoever owned the creature.
“Excuse me!” she yelled, stepping into the garden. “Can someone please explain why I’m being woken up by fucken Rooster?”
Then she stopped.
There he was Damian Vale shirtless, barefoot, holding a cup of coffee and looking entirely too calm for someone harboring a chicken apocalypse.
“Morning, roommate,” he said lazily, sipping his drink. “You met Apollo.”
“Apollo?”
“My rooster.”
Ariella blinked. “You have a rooster named Apollo?”
He smirked. “He’s a champion. Bought him from a collector in Texas. Cost me more than your car.”
Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged. “He’s valuable. You’re loud. I’m getting used to both.”
“Oh, wow,” she snapped. “So you wake people up at 6 a.m. because your oversized chicken needs therapy?”
Damian grinned. “Technically, that’s his morning routine. He announces the day. You should try it — might fix your attitude.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re cute when you’re angry.”
She froze. “Don’t flirt with me.”
He tilted his head. “Who said it was flirting?”
“You literally just called me cute.”
He smirked. “Observation, not intention.”
Ariella’s brain screamed in three languages. “You know what, Mr. Vale? Keep your rooster, keep your ego, and keep your distance.”
“Deal,” he said. “But the coffee’s mine too.”
“Fine!”
She stormed back into the house, slamming the door.
Behind her, Damian chuckled. “City girls,” he muttered. “Always fun to tease.”
Inside, Ariella grabbed her phone, scrolling through emails — only to choke on her coffee.
SUBJECT: Job Offer – Vale Enterprises
Her jaw dropped.
She opened it.
> Dear Ms. Monteverde,
We were impressed by your recent campaign work at Monteverde PR. Mr. Vale has personally requested to meet with you for a consulting position.
Please confirm your availability for today, 10 a.m.
Her pulse skipped. “Mr. Vale. As in Damian Vale. As in the man outside feeding his chicken.”
Lani’s voice buzzed on speaker. “Girl, you sound like you saw a ghost.”
“I’m being offered a job… by my roommate.”
“WHAT?!”
“Yeah. Damian Vale. Billionaire. Rooster guy. He wants to hire me.”
“Wait—does he even know you’re his roommate?”
Ariella groaned. “Apparently not. The booking app listed me as ‘A. Monteverde,’ and the job email was sent to the same address.”
Lani cackled. “So what’s the plan? You gonna say no?”
Ariella took a long breath. “No. I’m going to say yes.”
“Girl, are you crazy?”
“Lani, I’m unemployed, heartbroken, and living rent-free with a billionaire. If that’s not a power move, I don’t know what is.”
Two hours later.
Ariella stood in front of Damian’s home office — now dressed in crisp white blouse, high-waisted slacks, and a look that screamed competent but dangerous.
She knocked once.
“Come in,” his voice called.
When she entered, Damian glanced up from his laptop — and froze.
“Oh,” he said slowly, eyes trailing her outfit. “So you can look professional.”
“Excuse me?”
He set his coffee down. “You’re overdressed for breakfast.”
“I’m not here for breakfast,” she said. “I’m here for the job interview.”
His brow furrowed. “You’re the applicant?”
She smiled sweetly. “Ariella Monteverde, marketing consultant. You might’ve seen my work at Monteverde PR — before I quit over a cheating scandal.”
His lips twitched. “Cheating scandal?”
She rolled her eyes. “My ex. Not me.”
“Good,” he said, smirking. “Because I don’t hire people who lie. Or cry.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she shot back. “I’m too angry to cry.”
He leaned back, clearly amused. “Fine. You’ve got five minutes to convince me why I should hire you instead of sending you back to your rooster roommate status.”
She smiled. “Easy. Because your company’s social media sucks.”
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Vale Enterprises’ online presence is colder than your personality,” she said. “Your Twitter sounds like it’s written by a robot, your i********:’s all luxury but zero soul, and your ads? Boring. You’re a billionaire, not a brochure.”
Damian slowly grinned. “You just insulted my brand.”
“Constructively,” she said. “That’s what consultants do.”
He stared at her, expression unreadable. Then he stood, walked around the desk, and stopped just inches away.
“You’ve got nerve,” he said quietly. “I like nerve.”
Her pulse quickened. “Is that… your way of saying I got the job?”
He tilted his head. “Depends. Can you handle my attitude?”
She crossed her arms. “I survived betrayal, heartbreak, and your rooster. I think I can handle you.”
For a moment, their eyes locked — the air between them crackling like static.
Then he smirked. “Welcome to Vale Enterprises, Ms. Monteverde.”
She blinked. “Wait. Seriously?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
She grinned. “Too late.”
That night, Ariella stood on the balcony, staring at the Malibu sunset, phone in hand.
Lani texted:
> You got the job?! OMG Girl, what if you fall for him?!
Ariella laughed aloud.
> Please. He’s an arrogant rooster tamer. Not my type.
But as she glanced through the window and saw Damian — laughing quietly while feeding Apollo — something weird twisted in her chest.
Not attraction. Definitely not that.
Just… curiosity.
“Not my type,” she whispered again, trying to convince herself.
The rooster crowed once more, like it disagreed.
- Writer
