CHAPTER SIX:NEW YORK ✈️
1148 Words
Emily stared at her closet like it had personally offended her.
"Business trip to New York. With the CEO. In 2 hours."
She had 3 blouses. 2 pants. 1 blazer. All from the thrift store.
Nothing that said "I belong in a private jet."
Her roommate Tasha leaned in the doorway, eating noodles. "Girl. You’re going to New York with Damian Sterling and that’s what you’re wearing?"
"This is all I have," Emily mumbled, pulling out the black blazer. The one she wore to the interview.
Tasha sighed and disappeared. Came back 10 minutes later with a garment bag.
"Borrowed this from my cousin. Don’t stain it."
Inside was a simple navy dress. Not designer, but it fit. Elegant.
"Thank you," Emily whispered. Her eyes were stinging.
"Iron your shoes too," Tasha said. "And put on lipstick. You look pale."
Emily nodded. Hands shaking, she packed: laptop, notebook, charger, and one snack because she didn’t know if they’d feed her.
At 6AM a black car pulled up. Driver in a suit.
"Miss Emily? Mr. Sterling sent me."
She almost said no. This was a mistake. She didn’t belong here.
But she got in anyway.
The airport wasn’t an airport. It was a private hangar.
And there was the jet. White. Sleek. With "STERLING CORP" on the side.
Damian was already there. Sunglasses on. Talking to the pilot.
When he saw her, he stopped mid-sentence.
She was nervous. Holding her cheap laptop bag too tight. Hair in a low bun because she didn’t know how else to do it.
Damian walked to her. Looked her up and down. Once.
"Did you eat?"
"What?"
"Breakfast. Did you eat?"
Emily shook her head.
He sighed and handed her a coffee and a croissant from the car. "Eat. Now."
His voice was bossy. But his hand was gentle when he took her bag.
The private jet smelled like leather and money.
Emily sat by the window, gripping the armrest until her knuckles turned white.
She’d never been on a plane before. Not even a commercial one.
And now she was 30,000 feet in the air on Damian Sterling’s jet.
Across from her, Damian didn’t look up from his laptop.
White shirt. Black tie loosened. Hair slightly messy from running his hand through it.
He looked like he owned the sky.
“You okay?” he asked without looking up.
“I’ve never flown,” Emily admitted quietly.
His typing stopped.
He finally looked at her. “First time?”
She nodded.
Damian closed his laptop. “Look at me.”
Emily did. His gray eyes were unreadable.
“Planes don’t crash every day, Emily. Breathe.”
He said it like an order. And somehow she did. Her shoulders dropped an inch.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He just nodded and opened his laptop again. But this time, he pushed the little basket of snacks toward her.
“Eat something. You look like you’re going to faint.”
Two hours later they landed in New York.
The hotel was insane. Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. A man in a suit took their bags.
The receptionist smiled at Damian like he hung the moon.
“Mr. Sterling, welcome. We only have one suite available tonight. The board meeting took the rest.”
Emily’s stomach dropped.
Damian’s jaw ticked. “What kind of suite?”
“Presidential. Two bedrooms, but only one bed in each. Separate bathrooms.” The woman rushed to add. “It’s very spacious.”
Emily wanted to sink into the floor.
Damian looked at her. Really looked at her. “Problem?”
“No,” Emily lied. “It’s fine.”
“Good.” He signed the papers. “Book it.”
The suite was bigger than Emily’s entire apartment.
White couches. Floor to ceiling windows. View of the whole New York skyline.
And yes. Two beds. Far apart.
Damian dropped his suitcase. “Meeting in an hour. Business dinner. You’re coming.”
“I am?”
“You’re my assistant.” He said it simply. “Wear something professional.”
She wore the navy dress Tasha lent her. Added the blazer.
When she came out, Damian was on the phone by the window. He turned.
His eyes dragged over her. From her shoes to her hair.
He didn’t say anything. Just held out his arm.
Dinner was worse.
Three men in suits. All of them looked at Emily, then at Damian, then back at Emily.
“So,” one of them said, wine glass in hand. “New assistant, Damian?”
Damian cut his steak. “She’s with me.”
The table went quiet.
“With you?” The man raised an eyebrow.
“Is there a problem, Richard?” Damian’s voice was ice.
“No. No problem.” Richard quickly drank his wine. “Just didn’t know you brought... assistants to dinner.”
Emily wanted to disappear.
Under the table, Damian’s hand found hers.
He didn’t hold it. Just squeezed once.
I’ve got you.
She almost cried.
Back in the suite at 11PM, Emily was exhausted.
Damian was on the balcony, tie off, sleeves rolled up. On a call.
She was about to go to her room when she heard his voice. Low. Angry.
“I don’t care what the board says.” Pause.
“I’m not letting her go.” Another pause.
“She’s not a pawn, Marcus. She’s mine.”
Emily froze.
Mine?
Her heart was pounding. Before she could process it, Damian turned.
He saw her in the doorway. Instantly ended the call.
“Go to bed, Emily.” His voice was rough.
“Who were you talking to?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Damian stared at her for a long second.
“The board.” He lied. She knew he was lying.
He walked past her to his room. Stopped.
“Lock your door tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust myself around you when it’s just us.”
Then he closed the door.
Emily stood there in the dark, his words ringing in her ears.
I’m not letting her go. She’s mine.
She crawled into the massive bed. Too big. Too empty.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number:
‘You shouldn’t be in New York with him.
You have no idea who you are dealing with
.V’
Emily sat up.
Who was V?
Another text:
‘Ask him about Victoria.
Ask him why he really fired his last
3 assistants.
Sweet dreams.’
Emily dropped the phone like it burned her.
Across the suite, she heard Damian’s door open.
Footsteps.
Then a soft knock on her door.
“Emily?” His voice. Low.
“Are you awake?”
She didn’t answer.
She couldn’t.
Because for the first time since she met him...
She was scared.
Not of him.
Of what she was starting to feel for him.
*********
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