TheBigBadCeolived here
1609 Words
Adeline’s POV
Two days later
“We’re here, ma’am.”
The driver stepped out to open my door.
I looked out the window and nearly laughed.
Good grief.
The black glass tower stretched into the sky, its mirrored windows catching the evening sun. It looked more like a five-star hotel than somewhere people actually lived.
Of course the Big Bad CEO lived here.
I climbed out, clutching the box that held the most important pieces of my old life. The rest was in the trunk.
The past two days had gone by in a blur.
No Leah.
No police.
No cheating ex.
Nothing. I’d called every friend she had. Nobody knew where she’d gone. Or maybe they did and simply weren’t telling me.
Yesterday, I’d spent the day in the hospital with Mom.
Today had been dedicated to cancelling a wedding that was never going to happen.
The event planner had somehow managed to sound sympathetic while reminding me that absolutely nothing was refundable.
Typical.
Ironically, packing had been the easiest part.
Everything was already packed up, courtesy of my failed engagement.
The driver led me through a marble lobby that smelled faintly of fresh flowers and expensive perfume. Uniformed staff greeted him by name before ushering us toward a private elevator.
Private.
Of course.
When the doors opened, I realized the entire floor belonged to him.
Because nothing screamed “obnoxiously rich” quite like owning an entire floor.
The front door was already slightly open. I nudged it wider and stepped inside.
The apartment was… Cold. Not temperature-wise. It didn’t feel like a home. It felt like the showroom for a luxury furniture company. White marble. Black steel. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Everything perfectly arranged. Not a family photo in sight. No plants. No books left lying around. No signs that an actual human being lived there.
If someone had asked an architect to design emotional detachment, this would’ve been the result.
Declan was sitting on one of the kitchen stools, laptop open, coffee beside him, watching me with the same expression someone reserves for a suspicious package.
He was clad in a black T-shirt and jeans.
Apparently, even dressed casually, he still looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.
Shame his personality ruined the face.
“…Hi.”
“The last room on the left.” His eyes barely left the laptop balanced on the kitchen island.
“That’s yours.”
I stared.
“…That’s it?”
That earned me a glance.
“Pardon?”
“You’re just going to point at a room and we’re suddenly roommates?”
“Contractually speaking…” He looked back at the screen. “…yes.”
I frowned.
“You’re not even a little concerned that I might be a deranged serial killer whose preferred victims are rude, disrespectful billionaires?”
A quiet scoff escaped him.
“I doubt it.”
I folded my arms. “Oh?”
“Serial killers are generally intelligent.” His gaze swept over me. “…Or physically intimidating.”
My mouth fell open.
“Take that back. I could absolutely be a serial killer.” I held up the cardboard box. “For all you know, this contains my murder weapons, and you just arrogantly welcomed death into your home.”
His eyes flicked to the box. Then back to me. “Hm.”
He took another sip of his coffee.
“I’ll try not to lose sleep.”
“Jerk!”
He closed his laptop with a soft click.
“On the contrary, while we’re discussing your intrusive occupancy of my home, there are a few ground rules.”
Intrusive? I didn’t even want to live here.
“Rules?” I repeated slowly.
“My home office is the first door on the left.” He pointed down the hallway. “You do not enter it… ever.”
“My bedroom is also off-limits… no exceptions.”
I tilted my head.
“Well, now I definitely want to see what’s in there.”
His expression didn’t change. “Are you one of those billionaire psychopaths who keeps the bodies of women who rejected him hidden in his bedroom?”
I raised a brow. “Murder mystery is my fav.”
“So I’ve gathered.” He picked up his mug again. “Additionally, you aren’t allowed to ask me personal questions. This arrangement is strictly business. Keep it that way.”
“And don’t tell anyone you live here.”
I snorted.
As if I’d voluntarily announce my sister conned me into fake-marrying a billionaire.
“Anything else? My legs are starting to throb from all this standing.”
“Do you have a job?”
The question caught me off guard.
“Well… I did, but my boss—”
“I didn’t ask for your employment history.” His tone remained flat. “Do you currently have a job?”
“…No.”
“Thought so.”
I frowned. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You start tomorrow.” he said ignoring my question.
I frowned.
“Doing what?”
“Working as my secretary.”
I stared at him.
“I’m sorry… your what?”
“My secretary.”
He closed the file in front of him.
“My office is down the hall. The gym is on the opposite side. The theater, pool, and wine room are downstairs.” He spoke like he was reading from a manual. “If you need anything, ask the house manager.”
A beat.
“You’re dismissed.”
I blinked.
“Hold on. I never agreed to that. The only thing worse than being fake-married to you would be working for you. I’ll find my own job.”
“You already accepted my money.” A scoff slipped past his lips. “Save the righteous act, Levine.”
“It’s Adeline.” I folded my arms. “And you don’t know the first thing about me.”
God.
Screw you, Leah.
I hoped she stubbed the same toe every morning for every insufferable conversation I had with this man.
“I know enough.” His voice remained infuriatingly calm.
“You’d know a bit more yourself if you’d bothered reading the contract before signing it. You start tomorrow. And this isn’t a discussion.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Oh, like hell it isn’t.”
I took a step closer.
“Let’s get something straight, Declan. You paid me to be your fake wife. Smile beside you, pretend to like you, eventually carry your child.” I pointed at him. “You did not purchase unlimited labor.”
A faint amusement flickered across his face.
“I am your employer. I believe that’s precisely how employment works.”
“No. You don’t get to keep adding responsibilities every time I walk through the door.”
“I haven’t added anything. You simply neglected to read the contract.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“…Wait.”
“Working for you was actually in the contract?”
“Yes.”
I stared. “That’s… unbelievably sneaky.”
“It’s legally binding.”
I let out a frustrated groan.
“Wait… don’t you already have a secretary?”
“She resigned.”
“I didn’t apply.”
“You work for me now.”
“I don’t even know what your company does.”
“I’ll lower my expectations.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I argued. “You can’t force me into this.”
He leaned back slightly, studying me for a moment.
“You’re unemployed.” His tone was maddeningly matter-of-fact. “I doubt you’re in much of a position to negotiate.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. I was jobless. Still — working for him somehow felt worse than unemployment.
I sighed dramatically.
“Fine. What’s my salary looking like?”
His perfectly sculpted brow lifted.
“The forty million dollars you’re already receiving isn’t sufficient?”
I scoffed.
“That’s for pretend wife and surrogate.” I tilted my head. “And let’s be honest, if I’d met you before signing that contract, I would’ve charged extra.” I let that sit. “Now, secretary — that’s an entirely different job.”
A ghost of amusement crossed his face before it disappeared.
“You’re remarkably mouthy for a jobless woman.”
“And you’re remarkably stingy for a self-made billionaire.”
I folded my arms.
If this man thought marrying me meant I’d suddenly become quiet and obedient…
He seriously would wish he’d ended up with Leah.
“Meet with Accounting tomorrow. They’ll explain your salary. I don’t concern myself with employee payroll.”
“…Ouch.”
He reopened his laptop, effectively ending the conversation.
I muttered something that was definitely not fit for polite society, picked up my box, and turned toward the hallway he’d pointed out, more than ready to get as far away from him as humanly possible.
His voice stopped me.
“Rebecca.”
I glanced over my shoulder. He already had his phone pressed to his ear, his attention back on the laptop in front of him.
“Yes, Mr. Silver?” a woman’s voice answered from the speaker.
“Clear my afternoon.”
A pause.
“Transfer payroll for the new secretary.”
My footsteps slowed.
There was another brief silence before he added, almost as an afterthought—
“And Rebecca…”
“Yes, sir?”
“You’re fired. HR has your severance package.”
I stopped dead.
My head snapped around so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.
“Wait… what?”
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