Chapter 11 – The Tour Begins
2232 Words
Evie had always imagined airports as chaotic places—people coming, people leaving, flights delayed, luggage misplaced—but being at the airport as Aiden Cross's newly hired assistant felt like stepping into the eye of a storm instead. Everything looked normal from the outside, yet the air around her tingled with the strange anticipation of something inevitable.
Her backpack felt too heavy on her shoulders. Her palms were damp. And her heart—though she refused to admit it—had not stopped thudding ever since she woke up knowing she was about to spend an entire month traveling with him.
A month.
Thirty days.
Thirty nights.
A tour with the most famous man on the planet.
And her hotel room would be next to his.
She still wasn't sure how she agreed to this.
Actually, she knew.
He had looked at her with those cool, unreadable eyes and simply said:
"I need someone I can trust. And you owe me, Evie."
She hated how her chest fluttered at that.
Now, walking beside him through the VIP terminal, she kept her gaze straight ahead. The press wasn't allowed here, thankfully. Only his team, his manager, the security detail, a few staff members, and her—Evie Hart, brand new assistant and potential disaster magnet.
Aiden walked slightly ahead, hands in his pockets, head down as if protecting himself from invisible cameras. Everything about him was composed, controlled, untouchable.
Evie envied that.
She spent half the night before the flight trying to calm her nerves, reminding herself that this tour was just work. She was here to earn money. To repay a debt. To survive.
Not to get attached.
Absolutely not.
He's your boss, she told herself. Not your friend. Not your… anything.
But the memory of him thanking her—quietly, sincerely—after she saved him from the fan attack kept replaying in her head. Those seconds in the airport hallway where he looked at her differently, as if seeing something he wasn't prepared for.
She shook her head slightly, forcing the thought away.
Beside her, Claire—the tour coordinator—was walking briskly, tapping on her tablet.
"Evie, right? The new assistant?" Claire asked, not looking up.
"Yes," Evie replied.
"You'll be in charge of his basic needs. I'll handle scheduling, PR, and stage arrangements. You just stay close, listen carefully, and don't wander off."
Evie nodded. Claire continued.
"Aiden doesn't like unnecessary questions. He prefers efficiency. If he needs something, you make it happen. If you're unsure, ask me before you ask him."
Evie nodded again.
"And one more thing," Claire said, lowering her voice. "Don't take it personally if he ignores you. He does that to everyone."
Evie glanced at Aiden's back—broad, steady, effortless.
Yeah. She already knew that.
When they reached the private lounge, the team dispersed. Aiden settled into a seat by the window, earbuds in, leaning back with the kind of elegance only someone born for the spotlight could pull off.
Evie stood awkwardly near the entrance.
No one told her where to sit.
No one told her what to do next.
She was just contemplating whether to ask Claire when someone suddenly tugged the strap of her backpack.
Aiden.
He slipped one earbud out, lifting an eyebrow. "You can sit down, you know."
Her heart did a dramatic flip. "O–oh. Right. Of course. I just wasn't sure where—"
"Anywhere," he said simply. "You don't have to look like you're about to get arrested."
Heat rushed to her face. "I don't!"
"You do." A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Relax, Evie. You'll survive."
He put the earbud back in and closed his eyes.
Evie sank into the couch opposite him, her pulse still erratic.
Relax? How was she supposed to relax when she was one wrong breath away from causing another global scandal?
You'll survive, he said.
She hoped he was right.
The flight was smooth. Too smooth, actually. Aiden barely spoke a word to her, except for the moment he handed her a water bottle and simply said, "Drink."
She obeyed without thinking, only to realize a few seconds later how strangely domestic the gesture felt.
She pushed the thought away again, burying herself in the safety manual of "How to Not Screw Up As a Celebrity Assistant," which she had mentally created on the spot.
By the time they landed in Seoul—first stop of the tour—Evie felt like she had aged ten years. Aiden, on the other hand, looked effortlessly refreshed, like he had slept on a cloud spun from angel feathers.
She hated him a little for that.
The hotel arranged for the team was luxurious—floor-to-ceiling windows, marble floors, sweeping views of the city. The kind of place Evie would never afford even in her dreams.
At check-in, Claire handed out room keys.
"Aiden, Room 1903," she said, then turned to Evie. "You're 1904. Directly next to his."
Evie froze.
Aiden didn't react at all, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Her hands tightened around the key card.
He was inches away, close enough that she felt the faint warmth radiating from him. She swallowed hard.
It's fine, she told herself. You're adults. It's just work. There's a wall between you. A normal, sturdy, totally-not-problematic wall.
But as they walked toward the elevators, his hand brushed lightly against hers while adjusting his bag strap.
She almost jolted.
He glanced at her. "Nervous?"
"No," she lied instantly.
Aiden's lips curved in a way that suggested he did not believe her at all.
"Good," he murmured. "Because the real chaos starts tomorrow."
The elevator doors opened.
Evie stepped in.
Aiden followed.
And for a second—just one second—their eyes met in the stainless-steel reflection.
Something flickered.
Something dangerous.
Something new.
And Evie had the sinking feeling that her ordinary, debt-paying, keep-your-head-down plan…
was about to fall apart completely.
The hallway on the nineteenth floor was quiet—eerily quiet. Thick carpeting muted their footsteps as Evie followed Aiden toward their rooms. The air smelled faintly of citrus and something floral. Calm. Peaceful.
Which was ironic, because Evie's mind was anything but peaceful.
Her room key trembled slightly between her fingers. She kept telling herself she wasn't nervous—that all of this was strictly professional, that being placed next to Aiden was for convenience, and not because of… whatever strange shift happened between them since the airport.
Aiden stopped in front of 1903.
Evie halted in front of 1904.
He turned, leaning one shoulder casually against his doorframe. "You should unpack and rest. We have a rehearsal walkthrough at nine tomorrow."
Evie nodded. "Okay. Anything else you need?"
He studied her, not with the intense stare he used on stage or during interviews, but with something quieter. Something almost… searching.
"No," he said at last. "But keep your phone volume on."
That felt oddly intimate.
Or maybe Evie was overthinking like she always did.
She swallowed. "I will."
Aiden inserted his keycard, the lock clicked, and the door opened. He stepped halfway inside, but then paused—like he remembered something.
"Evie."
She looked up.
His voice dropped lower. "No matter what happens tomorrow, stay close to me. Understood?"
A strange warmth unfurled in her stomach. "Understood."
Aiden nodded once, almost satisfied, before disappearing into his room.
Evie entered hers, closed the door, and collapsed face-first onto the bed with a muffled groan.
"Why," she whispered into the pillow, "does he talk like that? Why does everything he says sound like a threat and a warning and a compliment all at the same time?!"
The ceiling didn't answer.
The First Night
Evie tried to settle in.
She unpacked. Sorted her toiletries. Plugged her phone to charge.
Tried not to think about Aiden being just a wall away.
Failed spectacularly.
Every sound in the hallway made her flinch. She wasn't used to fancy hotels. She wasn't used to traveling outside her city. And she definitely wasn't used to being responsible for someone whose face could spark global chaos in mere seconds.
She paced the room once. Twice. Ten times.
Should she check on him?
Should she not?
Maybe assistants were supposed to ask if the artist needed anything?
Or maybe that would annoy him?
She grabbed the binder with her written "assistant notes" and flipped through.
Tip #7: Never disturb unless asked.
Tip #13: But always be reachable.
Tip #2: Don't overthink it.
She was absolutely ignoring all three.
Finally, she forced herself to crawl into bed. The sheets were cold at first, then warmed to her body. The lights dimmed automatically. A soft hum of the city filled the quiet room.
Evie closed her eyes.
Three seconds later—
Thud.
Evie's eyes flew open.
Was that… the wall?
She sat up, heart thumping.
Thud. Thud-thud.
Definitely the wall.
Definitely Aiden's side.
Her mind jumped instantly to the worst-case scenarios:
-He's being attacked
-He collapsed
-He's choking
-A wild raccoon got into the hotel and is now fighting him
Evie grabbed her slippers and rushed to the door without thinking.
She knocked.
"Aiden? Are you okay?"
There was a pause.
Then the door opened halfway, and Aiden appeared.
Shirtless.
Evie forgot how to breathe.
His hair was slightly messy, as if he had run a hand through it. His breathing was a bit heavy, and his skin glistened with sweat from what was definitely a late-night workout.
Not an attack.
Not a raccoon.
Aiden blinked at her. "Evie?"
Her brain short-circuited.
Words died in her throat.
Her eyes—traitorous—dropped to the faint lines of muscle along his abdomen before she jerked them back up.
"I—I heard noises," she managed, voice strangled. "I thought—something was wrong."
Aiden glanced over his shoulder, then back at her.
"I was doing push-ups."
"Oh." Evie nodded rapidly. "Right. Of course. I mean—obviously. Yes. That makes sense. Totally normal. Goodnight."
She practically fled back into her room and shut the door so fast the air puffed.
Behind the wood, she covered her burning face with both hands and whispered:
"Why. Am. I. Like. This."
She could still hear her heartbeat for minutes after.
Morning Chaos
At 8:10 a.m., Evie's alarm rang.
At 8:11 a.m., she tripped over her suitcase.
At 8:14 a.m., she burned her tongue on hotel coffee.
At 8:17 a.m., someone knocked on her door.
She wasn't expecting that.
Aiden wasn't the type to—
She opened the door.
Aiden stood there, fully dressed, looking devastatingly sharp in an oversized hoodie, dark jeans, and a cap pulled low. He held a takeout bag.
"Breakfast," he said. "You forgot to order yesterday."
Evie blinked. "How did you know I forgot?"
"You didn't eat."
"I—I had coffee," she argued.
"That's not food."
Evie stared. "I didn't know assistants were allowed breakfast delivered by their boss."
Aiden's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes softened.
Barely noticeable.
But there.
"You're not 'the assistant' today," he said. "You're a human who needs energy to keep up with a tour."
Evie took the bag slowly. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it." He turned halfway, then added, "Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes."
"Okay."
"And Evie?"
She looked up.
Aiden held her gaze, not cold, not distant, just… honest.
"Don't run in the hallways next time," he said softly. "I could hear you tripping."
Her face exploded with heat.
He walked off, clearly amused.
Evie closed the door and let out a sound that was not entirely human.
The Rehearsal
The rehearsal venue was enormous—massive stage, lights rigged overhead, dancers stretching, staff rushing around with clipboards and headsets.
Evie had never seen anything like it.
Aiden, however, walked as if he owned the universe.
And maybe he did.
He handed her his bag. She carried it like it was made of gold (which, considering his brand sponsorships, it might as well be). Claire handed her a tablet with the schedule.
"Stay near the backstage," Claire said. "Aiden will need water after each run. You keep track. Any questions?"
Evie shook her head.
Aiden stepped onto the stage for his first run-through.
Evie watched.
He changed completely.
Gone was the calm, quiet man from the hallway.
On stage, he burned—like a star collapsing and exploding at the same time. His voice filled the arena effortlessly. His movements were sharp, immersive, captivating.
Evie forgot to breathe.
No wonder the world was obsessed with him.
He wasn't just talented.
He was alive on stage in a way that felt almost dangerous.
When the first run ended, he walked toward her, sweat at his temple, chest rising and falling.
"Water," he said.
Evie jolted from her daze, opened the bottle, and handed it to him.
Aiden's fingers brushed hers—light, intentional or not, she didn't know—but the spark it sent up her arm was immediate.
He drank, eyes steady on her the whole time.
Evie swallowed.
Maybe it was the lights,
the adrenaline,
the city,
or the fact she hadn't fully recovered from last night's shirtless door incident—
—but something inside her shifted.
Something she didn't have a name for yet.
And from the way Aiden's gaze lingered…
He felt it too.
- Writer
