More Than His Assistant

Chapter One

Gina’s POV

What the actual f**k……

I nearly screamed as the black SUV sped past me, splashing water all over my clothes.

Of course. Because today wasn't going badly enough.

I stood there for a second, watching the SUV disappear into traffic like it hadn’t just ruined my morning.

My phone buzzed in my hand like it was enjoying this. Interview in twenty minutes. Great. I’d officially moved from early to desperately cutting it close.

The universe loved doing that to me—dangling hope just long enough for me to think I had a chance.

This was supposed to be a good day. Or at least a useful one.

I’d woken up before my alarm because Gia needed help getting ready. She always did on mornings like this. Pills on the counter. Backpack by the door. Me pretending not to notice how carefully she watched my face, like she could tell when I was about to break.

I told her I’d be fine. I always did.

Skipped breakfast. Again. Grabbed my blazer—the only one that still looked professional if you didn’t look too closely. Then I left a note on the counter reminding her about her afternoon meds, even though she never forgot.

Then the subway stalled. Then it started raining. Then the city decided to remind me exactly where I ranked in its priorities.

Apparently below luxury SUVs.

I looked down at myself and huffed out a breath. Of all the mornings for this. Harrington & Cross didn’t exactly scream understanding.

This was the kind of place where people wore confidence like tailored suits and didn’t show up looking like life had already punched them twice before nine a.m.

But I needed this.

I had to settle rent… and also pay for Gia’s meds…. and “almost getting a job” didn’t keep the lights on.

So I adjusted my bag, straightened my shoulders, and started walking again.

If the universe wanted to test me today?

Fine.

I was already late. What was one more disaster?

I took three steps forward before it happened again.

Another black SUV barreled past like I didn’t exist, sending another splash my way. I stopped short, staring at the street like it had personally betrayed me.

You had to be kidding.

Something in me snapped. I turned on my heel.

The car had already slowed down at the light up ahead. Figures. I scanned the sidewalk, my gaze landing on a loose stone near the curb.

Perfect..

I didn’t think. Thinking was how I usually talked myself out of things. This time, my hand closed around it and my arm moved.

The stone left my fingers and sailed straight into the side window.

Crack.

The car screeched to a stop.

The driver’s door flew open and a man stepped out, tall and furious, dressed like he belonged in a boardroom instead of yelling at strangers on the street. His eyes locked onto mine instantly.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped.

I folded my arms, dripping and shaking but refusing to move. “Try not driving like you own the city.”

His laugh was short and humorless. “You threw a rock at my car.”

“You turned me into a sidewalk puddle.”

He slowly looked me over dismissively, his gaze catching on my soaked clothes, my worn shoes and the cheap bag slung over my shoulder.

“Figures,” he said. “You people always think the world owes you something.”

That did it.

“You people?” I repeated. “Wow. Impressive. And here I thought you were just rich, not stupid.”

His jaw tightened. “You want to talk about stupid? You just committed vandalism.”

“And you just proved money doesn’t buy decency.”

Traffic started honking behind his car. He glanced back, irritation deepening, then turned to me again.

“Get lost before you make this worse for yourself,” he said coldly.

I stepped closer instead.

“Maybe if you slowed down and paid attention to actual human beings, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

For a second, something dark flickered behind his eyes—anger mixed with something sharp. Then he straightened, control snapping back into place like armor.

“This isn’t over,” he said.

I shrugged. “Didn’t plan on it being.”

Then I turned and walked away, every nerve screaming that I’d just made a huge mistake.

I didn’t look back.

I walked fast, replaying the argument in my head even though it was too late to change anything.

The longer I thought about it, the worse the timing felt. I had let frustration take over, and now I needed to focus on the only thing that mattered.

The interview.

Harrington & Cross came into view, tall and intimidating in a way that made hesitation feel pointless.

I adjusted my blazer and reminded myself that this was just a conversation. One opportunity. One room. Nothing more.

Inside, the receptionist barely looked up.

“Name?”

“Gina Moretti. Nine a.m. interview.”

She confirmed it and gestured for me to sit. I took a seat and kept my attention forward. People moved through the lobby like they belonged there.

I could belong too…. at least for the next half hour.

The door opened and someone stepped out. I looked up.

Oh no…..

The man from the SUV stood in front of me, perfectly composed with an immaculate suit, expression unreadable. Recognition passed through his eyes just as quickly as it hit me.

My stomach dropped as the reality settled in.

I had thrown a stone at my interviewer’s car.

And he clearly had not forgotten me.