THE BILLIONAIRE'S ASSISTANT

CHAPTER 2

Emma POV

I woke up to the sound of my alarm screaming in my ear like it was mad at me. My heart jumped so hard I nearly fell out of bed. For a second, I forgot why I had set it so early until it hit me.

Today was my first day working for Travis Winthrop.

I sat up slowly, my stomach flipping like I’d swallowed a trampoline. My eyes were puffy from barely sleeping. I had tossed and turned all night, dreaming about saying something stupid or spilling coffee all over his suit. And now, the day was actually here.

Beatrice was already in the kitchen, humming to herself and flipping pancakes. “Morning, sunshine,” she said without looking up. “Big day today.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

She turned to me, holding out a cup of coffee. “You got this. Just pretend it’s not the coldest, richest man in the city you’re working for. Pretend it’s, I don’t know, a regular job with a regular boss who doesn’t eat people alive.”

I smiled a little. “That’s impossible.”

Beatrice winked. “Fake it ‘til you make it, babe.”

I took a deep breath and got dressed in the same blouse I wore to the interview because honestly, it was the only “nice” thing I had. I pressed my black slacks the best I could and tied my curls into another low bun, whispering sweet threats to the few strands that kept poking out.

The bus ride was long and packed. I had to stand most of the way, holding onto the pole as we bumped down the road. My hands were already sweaty, and the closer we got to downtown, the harder my heart pounded.

When I finally stood in front of Winthrop Enterprises again, I paused and looked up. The building sparkled in the morning sun like it knew it was better than everyone else.

I walked inside, clutching my bag tightly. The same front desk lady gave me a look that said, “You again?” but she handed me a badge without a word.

This time, I didn’t get lost on the way to the 20th floor. But my legs still felt like Jell-O as I stepped off the elevator.

“Emma Parker?” a voice snapped behind me.

I turned and saw her.

She was tall, blonde, and perfect. Her black pencil skirt looked like it had been sewn onto her. Her lipstick was bold red, and her heels clicked sharply against the floor.

“I’m Vanessa,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Mr. Winthrop’s executive secretary.”

“Oh. Hi”

“Come with me.”

I barely had time to respond before she turned and marched down the hall. I scrambled to follow, nearly tripping over my own feet.

She led me to a small desk placed directly outside a pair of dark wooden double doors. The nameplate read: TRAVIS WINTHROP, CEO.

“This is your station,” Vanessa said, gesturing to the desk like it was a punishment. “You’ll be expected to keep it neat, answer the phone, handle his schedule, prepare files, and basically do anything Mr. Winthrop tells you to. He doesn’t like to repeat himself, and he hates being late.”

“Got it,” I whispered.

Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Let me make something clear. This job isn’t for dreamers or charity cases. He only hired you because well, never mind. Just don’t mess up.”

I blinked. “Because what?”

She turned sharply. “Focus on your work, Emma.”

She walked off with a flip of her hair, leaving a cloud of expensive perfume behind her. I sank slowly into the chair at my desk, hands trembling. The computer in front of me looked fancy and complicated. There was a phone with too many buttons and a drawer already stuffed with papers I didn’t understand.

I stared at the door to his office. Was he in there? Did he hear all that?

Suddenly, the phone rang.

I jumped. I stared at it like it was a bomb. Finally, I picked it up.

“H-hello?”

“Inside. Now,” came the cold voice on the other end.

I hung up and stood so fast I knocked my knee into the desk. “Ow.”

I took a breath, smoothed my shirt, and opened the double doors.

Travis Winthrop didn’t look up. He was at his desk, typing something. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, and he looked like a statue still and sharp.

He held out a manila folder without a word.

I took it with both hands. “Um… thank you?”

“Type it exactly as written,” he said. “And be quick.”

I nodded and backed out of the office, quietly closing the door behind me.

I opened the folder and stared at the pages. They were filled with notes in his handwriting surprisingly neat and I had to type them up into a report. Simple enough. Except my hands were shaking, and I couldn’t even find the right file on the computer.

It took me ten minutes just to figure out how to log in. Then the formatting kept going weird, the margins were off, and at one point I accidentally printed twenty blank pages.

Vanessa passed by my desk and gave me a long, smug look.

“Having trouble already?” she asked sweetly.

I forced a smile. “Nope. Just… warming up.”

She walked off without another word.

By noon, I’d finally typed the document. I printed it, checked it twice, and walked into his office, trying not to trip.

He took it without looking at me.

I stood there for a second, unsure if I should say something else.

“Why are you still standing here?” he asked, eyes still on the screen.

“Oh. Uh sorry.”

I rushed out and returned to my desk.

Lunch came, but I didn’t know what I was allowed to do. No one told me. I didn’t want to seem lazy, so I stayed at my desk and quietly ate a granola bar I found in my purse. My stomach grumbled the whole time.

The afternoon dragged. More folders, more typing, more silent judgment from Vanessa. Once, the coffee machine in the break room overflowed while I was trying to make a cup for Travis, and I spent ten minutes cleaning up with paper towels.

At 4:58 p.m., just when I was starting to think I’d somehow survive the day, the phone rang again.

“Bring me the presentation binder,” Travis’s voice said.

I blinked. “The… what?”

“The blue binder. From the cabinet. Now.”

Click.

I scrambled up and opened the tall cabinet beside my desk. There were at least ten binders in different shades of blue. I grabbed what looked like the right one and rushed inside his office.

He took it, flipped it open, and frowned.

“This is the quarterly review binder. I asked for the product launch binder.”

“Oh no,” I whispered. “I..I’m so sorry..”

He stood. “You need to learn the system. Fast.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, trying not to cry.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t even raise his voice. But something about his tone made me feel even worse than if he had.

I went back out, sorted through the binders again, and finally found the right one.

When I handed it to him, he simply nodded. “Better.”

That was all.

When the clock hit 6 p.m., I stayed at my desk, unsure if I could leave.

Travis came out of his office, looked at me once, and said, “You lasted longer than the last one.”

“The last what?” I asked, confused.

He didn’t answer. Just turned and walked toward the elevator.

I sat in silence, heart pounding.

What had he meant? Why was I really here?

As I started cleaning up my desk, I reached for one last folder on the corner. It was dusty and thick. Probably left behind by the last assistant. I flipped it open to check what it was.

And that’s when I saw it.

A small sticky note, stuck between two pages.

In neat handwriting, it said:

Emma Parker Be careful. He’s not who you think he is.

I stared at it, my breath catching in my throat.

Who had written that? How did they know my name before today?

And what did they mean?

I looked toward the elevator where Travis had disappeared just moments ago.

Something wasn’t right.

And suddenly, I wasn’t sure this job was just a job after all.