Chapter 3: An Offer I Can't Refuse
845 Words
My heart pounds in my chest as Damian Wolfe walks toward me, his amber eyes never leaving mine. The restaurant has gone completely silent. I can feel everyone staring, wondering what the billionaire owner of Wolfe Industries could possibly want with me.
"Mr. Wolfe," I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel. "I don't understand. What business could we possibly have?"
His smile deepens, creating a small dimple in his left cheek that somehow makes him look both more approachable and more dangerous.
"Perhaps we could speak privately," he suggests, gesturing toward the manager's office.
Diane nudges me forward, her eyes wide with curiosity. I follow him woodenly, acutely aware of my wrinkled uniform and hastily tied ponytail next to his perfection.
Inside the office, he closes the door and turns to face me. The small room suddenly feels even smaller, filled with his presence. He smells expensive—like sandalwood and something wild I can't name.
"You saved my life last night," he says without preamble.
I swallow hard. "Anyone would have done the same."
"No," he says firmly. "They wouldn't have. Most people would have walked past or called the police. You didn't. And more importantly, you knew exactly what to do." His head tilts slightly. "How did you know?"
The intensity of his gaze makes me feel like I'm under a microscope. "Like I said, my grandmother taught me about herbs. It was just... instinct."
"Interesting instinct," he murmurs. "Tell me about your grandmother."
The abrupt change in topic throws me. "My grandmother? Why?"
"Humor me."
I cross my arms defensively. "Her name is Rose Carter. She raised me after my parents—" I stop, unsure why I'm telling him this. "Why does it matter?"
"Rose Carter," he repeats thoughtfully. "And where did she learn about these... herbs?"
"She grew up in a small village in northern Michigan. Apparently, they were big on natural remedies." I shift uncomfortably. "Mr. Wolfe—"
"Damian," he corrects.
"Damian," I continue, the name feeling strangely intimate on my lips. "What is this about? Did you buy this restaurant just to talk to me?"
He laughs, a rich sound that reverberates through the small office. "I've been looking to expand my hospitality portfolio for some time. But yes, the timing of the purchase was... accelerated after our meeting."
"That's..." I struggle for the right word. "Excessive."
"I prefer thorough." He leans against the desk, casual despite his formal attire. "I have a proposition for you, Emma. I'd like you to come work for me."
I blink in surprise. "As a waitress in your restaurant?"
"No. As my personal assistant."
The unexpectedness of the offer leaves me momentarily speechless. "But... why? You don't know anything about me."
"I know you're resourceful, quick-thinking, and apparently loyal, given how you care for your grandmother." At my startled look, he adds, "I had you looked into, of course. Basic background check."
Anger flares in me. "You investigated me? That's—"
"Standard procedure before offering someone a position with access to my personal life," he cuts in smoothly. "Nothing invasive, I assure you."
"And what exactly would this position entail?"
"Managing my schedule, handling correspondence, accompanying me to business functions." He pauses. "The salary is $150,000 annually, plus benefits that include full medical coverage for both you and your grandmother."
My jaw drops. That's more money than I'd make in five years at The Crimson Room. Enough to pay for Grandma's medication and move us both somewhere better.
"This doesn't make sense," I say slowly. "Why would you offer me this job? There must be thousands of qualified assistants with actual experience."
Something flickers in his eyes—approval? "Smart question. Let's just say I trust my instincts about people, and my instincts tell me you're exactly what I need right now."
"Because I helped you last night?"
"Partially." He straightens, retrieving a business card—a proper one this time, with his name and title—from his pocket. "The position also includes accommodation at my estate. I require my assistant to be available at all hours."
"You expect me to live with you?" I ask incredulously.
"In a separate guesthouse on the property," he clarifies. "Complete privacy, but convenient access."
My mind races. The offer is too good, too convenient, too everything. "This feels like a fairy tale," I mutter. "Or a trap."
His expression sobers. "I understand your hesitation. Take the day to think about it. Call me with your answer by tonight." He hands me the card. "Oh, and Emma? This conversation is confidential. I'd prefer my... condition last night remain between us."
I nod, still dazed by the surreal turn of events.
"Excellent." He moves to the door, then pauses. "One more thing. If you accept, I'll need you to start immediately. Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? But what about my grandmother? My apartment?"
"All details can be arranged. My team is very efficient." With that, he opens the door and strides out, leaving me alone with a decision that could change my entire life.
- Writer
