His Spoiled Princess

His Spoiled Princess Chapter 1: The Princess Who Declared War on Monday  Arabella Rose Williams had three rules in life.  Rule number one: Never wake up before ten unless the house is on fire. Rule number two: Never wear the same designer outfit twice in the same month. Rule number three: Never, under any circumstances, allow a man to ruin her day.  Unfortunately, at 10:17 on Monday morning, all three rules were about to be broken.  “ARABELLA! GET DOWNSTAIRS!”  Arabella pulled her expensive silk blanket over her head.  “No!”  Her father’s voice echoed through the enormous mansion.  “YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES!”  “Then give me six!”  Silence followed.  Arabella smiled beneath her blanket.  Victory.  Until her bedroom door opened.  “Your father says your credit cards are frozen.”  Arabella sat upright so quickly that her pillow flew onto the floor.  Her mother stood at the door, holding a cup of tea and wearing the peaceful expression of a woman who had absolutely no intention of rescuing her daughter.  “What?”  “Your credit cards. Frozen.”  Arabella stared at her.  “All of them?”  “Every single one.”  “My black card?”  “Yes.”  “My shopping card?”  “Yes.”  “My emergency card?”  Her mother raised an eyebrow. “What emergency?”  Arabella looked genuinely offended.  “Mother, what if I see a handbag I love?”  Her mother took a slow sip of tea.  “Then I suggest you fall in love with something affordable.”  Arabella gasped.  “This family has changed.”  “Breakfast. Five minutes.”  The door closed.  Arabella sat frozen on her bed.  For the first time in twenty-two years, she experienced a feeling she had previously believed existed only in tragic novels.  Financial inconvenience.  She grabbed her phone and called her best friend, Chloe.  Chloe answered after the second ring.  “If you've accidentally ordered another ridiculous pair of shoes, I'm not helping you hide them.”  “Chloe, this is serious.”  “Did you burn another dress?”  “No!”  “Did your father discover your shopping receipts?”  Arabella paused.  “Possibly.”  “Oh, my God. He finally found the receipts from Paris?”  “Can you stop asking questions and listen?”  “I'm listening.”  “My father has frozen my credit cards.”  There was a moment of silence.  Then Chloe burst out laughing.  Arabella pulled the phone away from her ear.  “Are you laughing at my suffering?”  “Yes.”  “You're a terrible friend.”  “And you're a terrible saver.”  Arabella narrowed her eyes, even though Chloe couldn't see her.  “I am going to get a job.”  Chloe stopped laughing.  “You?”  “Yes, me.”  “Doing what? Judging fashion shows?”  “Something respectable.”  “Like what?”  Arabella looked around her bedroom.  Her eyes landed on a business magazine sitting on her dressing table.  On its cover stood a man wearing a black suit, his expression so serious that he looked personally offended by the existence of happiness.  The headline read:  ALEXANDER STERLING: THE BILLIONAIRE WHO NEVER LOSES.  Arabella picked up the magazine.  “I'm going to work for him.”  Chloe made a strange choking sound.  “Who?”  “Alexander Sterling.”  “THE Alexander Sterling?”  “Does London have another one?”  “Arabella, he's one of the most powerful businessmen in the country!”  “Wonderful. He can afford to pay me.”  “You don't even know what his company does!”  “Business.”  “That's not an answer!”  “It has offices, doesn't it? People work there. Surely someone needs to make coffee.”  Chloe groaned.  “You're going to get yourself fired before you even get hired.”  Arabella smiled.  “Then I'll make history.”  She ended the call before Chloe could object.  Then she jumped out of bed, opened her wardrobe, and began choosing an outfit.  If her father wanted her to become independent, she would become independent.  If the world wanted to challenge her, she would challenge it back.  And if Alexander Sterling thought he could intimidate her simply because he was rich, powerful, and ridiculously handsome—  Arabella glanced at his photograph again.  She paused.  “Okay. The handsome part is unfortunate.”  She shook her head.  “Focus, Arabella. You're here to work, not admire the merchandise.”  Meanwhile, at Sterling Enterprises, Alexander James Sterling hated three things: incompetence, lateness, and people who spoke for ten minutes without actually saying anything.  Unfortunately, his morning meeting had already contained all three.  “Let me make this simple,” Alexander said, placing a report on the conference table. “If we miss the deadline again, we lose the contract. I don't care how many excuses you have. Fix the problem.”  Nobody spoke.  Alexander glanced at his watch.  “Meeting over.”  Twelve executives stood up almost simultaneously.  They had learned that when Alexander used that particular tone, asking questions was a dangerous career choice.  His assistant, Daniel Brooks, followed him into his office.  “Your ten-thirty interview has arrived.”  Alexander didn't look up from his tablet.  “Which candidate?”  “Arabella Williams.”  His fingers stopped moving.  “The daughter of Richard Williams?”  “Yes.”  “Why is she interviewing here?”  Daniel hesitated.  “Her father requested that we give her an opportunity.”  Alexander slowly put down his tablet.  “Did he also request that I hand her my office?”  “Not yet.”  “Wonderful. I look forward to that conversation.”  Daniel placed her résumé on the desk.  Alexander read it.  Then he read it again.  Under professional skills, the applicant had listed: excellent communication, creative thinking, ability to handle difficult personalities, exceptional fashion sense, and fluent in sarcasm.  Alexander stared at the last two entries.  “Is this a joke?”  Daniel looked at the ceiling.  “I've stopped asking that question about the Williams family.”  Alexander turned the page.  There was no relevant business experience. No internships. No professional references. Just a photograph of Arabella smiling as if she had never encountered an unpleasant consequence in her life.  “Reject her.”  “Already tried.”  “And?”  “Her father called again.”  Alexander leaned back in his chair.  “Fine. Bring her in. I'll explain the difference between a professional office and a shopping mall.”  Daniel looked concerned.  “Should I prepare anything?”  “Yes. Patience. Apparently, we'll need it.”  At 10:29 a.m., a shiny black car stopped outside Sterling Enterprises.  Arabella stepped out wearing a cream blazer, a short black skirt, and heels that could probably have paid somebody's monthly rent.  She adjusted her sunglasses and looked up at the enormous glass building.  “Not bad.”  The security guard approached her.  “Good morning, miss. Can I help you?”  “I'm here for an interview.”  “Do you have an appointment?”  Arabella smiled brightly.  “I'm Arabella Williams.”  The guard checked his list.  His expression changed.  “Oh. Yes, miss. Please go to reception.”  Arabella walked inside.  The lobby was enormous, polished, and intimidatingly expensive.  People hurried past with laptops and folders.  Nobody appeared to be enjoying themselves.  Arabella frowned.  “Does nobody here smile?”  The receptionist looked up.  “Excuse me?”  “Nothing. Lovely building.”  Arabella walked toward the lifts.  She pressed the button.  Nothing happened.  She pressed it again.  Still nothing.  “Come on,” she whispered. “It's a button, not a marriage proposal.”  A man standing beside her cleared his throat.  “It's already been pressed.”  Arabella turned.  He was tall, wearing a dark suit, with a briefcase in one hand and an expression that suggested he had never made a mistake in his entire life.  She glanced at the lift.  Then back at him.  “Then why isn't it here?”  “Because it's on another floor.”  Arabella stared at him.  “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”  The man's eyebrows rose.  For a moment, he looked genuinely surprised.  Then the lift doors opened.  He stepped inside.  Arabella followed.  “Which floor?” he asked.  “Twenty-eight.”  He pressed the button.  She glanced at him.  “Do you work here?”  “Yes.”  “Do you like it?”  “It's a job.”  “That sounds tragic.”  He looked at her.  “Not everyone needs to enjoy every minute of their life.”  Arabella sighed dramatically.  “That sounds even more tragic.”  The lift stopped.  The man stepped out.  Arabella followed him.  She looked around.  “Excuse me, where is the interview room?”  He turned toward her.  “What interview?”  “My interview.”  “With whom?”  “Alexander Sterling.”  The man looked at her for several seconds.  Then he said, very calmly, “You're looking at him.”  Arabella stopped walking.  Her mouth opened.  Nothing came out.  For the first time in her life, Arabella Williams had absolutely no response.  Alexander glanced at her watch.  “You're one minute late.”  She looked down at her watch.  Then back at him.  “The lift was slow.”  “The lift works perfectly.”  “Then perhaps it dislikes me.”  “I'm sure the feeling is mutual.”  Arabella stared at him.  He stared back.  And somewhere in the distance, the universe began laughing.  Because the spoiled princess had finally met a man who wasn't impressed by her money, her surname, or her expensive shoes.  Alexander turned toward his office.  “Come with me, Miss Williams.”  Arabella followed, muttering under her breath.  “Arrogant, rude, miserable—”  “I can hear you.”  “Excellent. Your hearing works.”  Alexander stopped outside his office.  He looked at her.  “Let me make one thing clear. I don't tolerate laziness, disrespect, or unnecessary drama.”  Arabella smiled sweetly.  “Then you've probably never met yourself in a mirror.”  Daniel, standing near the doorway, immediately pretended to be fascinated by his clipboard.  Alexander's jaw tightened.  “Inside.”  Arabella walked into the office.  She looked around at the immaculate desk, the enormous windows, the expensive furniture, and the perfectly organized shelves.  Then she looked at Alexander.  “Do you live here?”  “No.”  “Good. I was worried you might need professional help.”  Alexander closed the office door.  “Sit down.”  Arabella sat.  He placed her résumé on the desk.  “Why do you want to work here?”  She crossed her legs.  “Because I need a job.”  “At least you're honest. What experience do you have?”  “Managing people.”  “Where?”  Arabella hesitated.  “My family.”  Alexander stared at her.  “You've managed your family?”  “Emotionally, yes.”  Daniel made a strange noise outside the door.  Alexander ignored it.  “What qualifications do you have?”  Arabella straightened.  “I'm intelligent, creative, adaptable, and excellent under pressure.”  “Can you use a spreadsheet?”  “Yes.”  “Which software?”  Arabella paused.  “Microsoft?”  Alexander closed his eyes for one second.  “Which Microsoft software?”  “The one with the squares.”  Daniel coughed loudly outside.  Arabella looked toward the door.  “Is he all right?”  “No,” Alexander said. “He's suffering.”  “Should we call someone?”  “Miss Williams.”  “Yes?”  “Are you taking this interview seriously?”  Arabella's smile faded slightly.  For a moment, she considered telling him the truth: that she had never needed a job before, that her life had always been arranged for her, and that she was tired of everyone assuming she was incapable of doing anything beyond spending money.  Instead, she lifted her chin.  “Yes.”  Alexander studied her expression.  “Then prove it.”  He slid a folder across the desk.  “Your first task. Review this proposal and identify three weaknesses.”  Arabella opened the folder.  She looked at the pages.  There were charts, numbers, tables, and more numbers.  She turned one page.  Then another.  Then looked up.  “How many pages?”  “Twenty-four.”  “Is there a shorter version?”  “No.”  “An audiobook?”  “Miss Williams.”  “Fine.”  She picked up a pen.  For the next fifteen minutes, the office remained unusually quiet.  Alexander answered emails. Daniel entered twice. Arabella studied the proposal, frowned at the figures, and wrote notes in the margins.  At last, she closed the folder.  “Finished.”  Alexander looked up.  “Already?”  “Unless you want me to write a novel about it.”  He held out his hand.  She gave him the notes.  He read the first point.  His expression changed slightly.  Then the second.  He sat straighter.  By the third, he was no longer looking at her as if she were an inconvenience.  He looked back at the proposal.  “You noticed the discrepancy in the projected costs?”  “Yes.”  “And the unrealistic delivery schedule?”  “Yes.”  “How?”  Arabella shrugged.  “Because the numbers didn't make sense.”  “Most applicants wouldn't have noticed that so quickly.”  “Perhaps most applicants were too busy pretending to understand everything.”  Alexander looked at her.  For the first time that morning, he had no immediate reply.  Arabella smiled.  “Surprised?”  “Don't become comfortable.”  “Too late. Your chair looks expensive.”  He placed the notes on the desk.  “You still lack the experience required for this position.”  Arabella's smile vanished.  “So that's it?”  “I didn't say that.”  “Then what are you saying?”  Alexander considered her for a moment.  “Three months. A probationary position. You report to my office at eight every morning. You follow instructions, meet deadlines, and complete the training assigned to you.”  Arabella blinked.  “Eight?”  “In the morning.”  She looked horrified.  “You mean before breakfast?”  “Breakfast is available in the staff cafeteria.”  “Is it good?”  “Miss Williams.”  “Right. Professionalism.”  Alexander continued.  “If you fail to meet the requirements, your employment ends. No special treatment because of your family.”  Arabella stood up.  “Fine.”  “Fine?”  “Yes. I'll prove I can do this.”  He extended his hand.  “Welcome to Sterling Enterprises.”  Arabella shook it.  “Thank you, Mr. Sterling.”  Then she smiled.  “But if I become your best employee, I want a better chair.”  Alexander released her hand.  “Get out.”  Arabella laughed.  “See you tomorrow, boss.”  She walked out of the office with her head held high.  Daniel appeared beside Alexander.  “Should I prepare the probation documents?”  Alexander looked at the closed door.  “Yes.”  Daniel hesitated.  “Do you think she'll last three months?”  Alexander picked up his tablet.  “Not three weeks.”  Outside, Arabella stepped into the lift and immediately called Chloe.  “I GOT THE JOB!”  Chloe screamed so loudly that Arabella had to pull the phone away.  “YOU WHAT?”  “I got the job!”  “HOW?”  “I used my brain.”  “Did you steal the interviewer's identity?”  “Chloe!”  “Sorry. I'm proud of you.”  Arabella smiled at her reflection in the lift doors.  She had done it.  She had walked into one of London's most prestigious companies and secured a job without using her father's influence.  Well, almost without using it.  She would ignore that small detail.  Then her phone buzzed.  An email from Sterling Enterprises.  Subject: Your Employment Agreement.  Arabella opened it.  Her smile slowly disappeared.  Working hours: 8:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. Dress code: Professional. Personal calls: Restricted during working hours. Punctuality: Mandatory.  She read the final line.  Direct supervisor: Alexander James Sterling.  Arabella stared at the screen.  Then she whispered, “Three months.”  She looked at the lift doors.  “Just three months.”  Her phone buzzed again.  A message from Chloe.  Don't fall in love with your boss.  Arabella scoffed.  “Please. I'd rather marry my alarm clock.”  Upstairs, Alexander was reading Arabella's notes for a second time.  He placed them in a folder and returned to his work.  Then he noticed something written at the bottom of the last page.  A tiny smiley face.  Beside it were four words.  Try smiling sometime, billionaire.  Alexander stared at the page.  Daniel looked over his shoulder.  “Oh, she is going to be a problem.”  Alexander slowly folded the paper.  For some inexplicable reason, the corner of his mouth lifted.  Only slightly.  But it was there.  And that was the first mistake Alexander Sterling made.  Because Arabella Williams had already decided that making the world's most serious billionaire smile would become her personal mission.  And she never abandoned a mission.  Especially when it annoyed someone else.  End of Chapter 1.