More Than His Assistant

Chapter Three

Gina’s POV

The car door closed with a soft click. I was sitting in the same car whose window I'd cracked that morning. Funny how life works.

He started the engine without a word. I stared straight ahead, my hands folded tightly in my lap. The cracked window was right there on my side, a spiderweb reminding me of my terrible judgment.

We drove for a few blocks before he finally spoke.

"The event is at the Metropolitan Museum," he said, his eyes on the road. "It's a charity gala. You'll be accompanying me."

"As your assistant?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"As my employee, your job is to observe, listen to conversations, note who talks to whom. Especially anyone connected to the Cross merger."

"So I'm basically your spy?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He glanced at me briefly. "You're my extra set of eyes and ears. Stay close. Don't draw attention. And try to blend in."

I looked down at my clothes—the same damp blazer, the same worn skirt. Blend in. Right. At a black-tie gala. Sure.

The museum appeared like something from a different world. It was all glowing lights and beautiful steps, with people in glittering gowns and perfect tuxedos flowing up the stairs. Alexander got out and walked ahead without waiting. I hurried after him, already feeling out of place.

Inside was worse. The grand hall was enormous, with chandeliers that looked like they cost more than my entire life. The air smelled like expensive perfume and money.

Alexander was immediately surrounded,the men shook his hand,while the women kissed his cheek. He smiled easily, transforming into someone I didn't recognize—someone who belonged completely in this glittering world.

I tried to stay close like he'd said, but I could feel people looking at me. Their eyes would slide over me, pause, then move on with barely concealed judgment.

I heard snippets of conversations about me, making me super conscious of how out of place I looked.

After what felt like hours but was probably only one, I needed to escape. The pressure was building in my chest. I muttered something about the restroom and slipped away.

The bathroom was all marble and gold leaf. I stood at the sink, splashing cold water on my face and trying to breathe normally. Just get through this, I told myself. One night. You can do one night.

The door opened.

I looked up in the mirror.

Valerie Cross walked in.

She was wearing a dress that looked like liquid gold, her hair fell in perfect waves. When she saw me, she stopped. A slow, cold smile spread across her face.

"Well," she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Look what the cat dragged in."

I turned around, reaching for a towel. "Valerie."

She didn't bother with pleasantries. She set her clutch on the counter and looked me over, her gaze traveling from my messy hair to my cheap shoes.

"Let me guess," she said, leaning against the marble sink. "Alexander felt sorry for you. He has a thing for charity cases."

"I work for him." I said, keeping my voice steady and cold.

"Work," she repeated with a little laugh.

"That's cute. Honey, your job is to be invisible, and you're failing spectacularly."

She took a step closer. "That outfit is practically begging for help."

My hands clenched at my sides. "I don't need your opinion."

"Of course you don't!" she said smoothly.

"You're doing so well on your own." She gestured at my reflection in the mirror.

"Look at you. You're a mess, please do everyone a favor—quit tomorrow. Save yourself the embarrassment when he realizes you'll never fit in here."

"You don't know anything about me Valerie." I spat, my voice tight.

"I know enough," she said with a shrug.

"I can see it my dear. The desperation. It's in your eyes, you think this is your ticket out.” She laughed softly.

“Nah sweetheart Isn't. It's just another dead end."

Then she reached out and touched me, her perfectly manicured fingers brushed against the collar of my blouse, straightening it like I was a child who needed fixing.

Something in me snapped.

The slap happened before I could think.

My hand moved on its own.

The sound echoed in the marble room, very loud and sharp. Valerie's head snapped to the side, my fingerprints imprinted on her face.

For a second, we just stared at each other. She suddenly smiled, her initial anger gone. She was smiling like someone, who had achieved a goal.

The bathroom door swung open. Two women stood there in flowery gowns, their phones in their hands. It seems they were recording.

And behind them was Alexander, his expression was unreadable.

He took in the scene in one quick glance, Valerie holding her cheek, my hand was still raised, and the two witnesses with their phones.

Valerie made a soft, hurt sound. A single tear rolling down her face. "Alexander... she attacked me."

He didn't look at me. Not once. He stepped past the other women and went straight to Valerie, taking her arm gently.

"Let's get some air." He said, his voice calm and tender. He led her away, he chose her side without hearing the truth.

He left me standing there with the two strangers, and their recording phones.

My whole body went cold, the women were staring, one of them still filming.

I said nothing and pushed past them, out of the bathroom, back into the bright, noisy party. People turned to look as I walked by.

I never stopped. Neither did I search for my blazer, I just walked straight through the massive doors out into the freezing night.

The cold air hit me squarely in the face, I wrapped my arms around myself and started walking very fast. I didn't know where I was going. I just needed to leave.

The museum grew smaller behind me. The lights, the music, the laughter—it all faded into the distance.

I had the job this morning.

Now I had a scandal.

And I had definitely, absolutely, made everything worse.