Chapter 3: New Rules, New Chaos
The sharp sound of her alarm dragged Emma from a restless sleep, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. The guesthouse's plush bed was leagues better than the lumpy motel mattresses she'd grown used to, but it couldn't erase the whirlwind her life had become.
She groaned, fumbling to silence the alarm on the ancient phone Liam had lent her. "Rise and shine," she muttered sarcastically, dragging herself out of bed. Today was her first full day as Liam Ashford's assistant—a job she hadn't applied for and still wasn't sure she wanted.
---
8:00 a.m. Sharp
Emma stumbled into the main house, muttering a mental pep talk. You've survived worse. This is temporary. You can handle one moody billionaire.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit her as she entered the kitchen, where Liam was seated at the dining table. His laptop was open, and a half-empty mug sat within arm's reach. He didn't look up as she approached, but his presence filled the room like a thundercloud.
"You're late," he said without preamble.
Emma's eyes darted to the clock. "By thirty seconds!"
"Late is late," he replied, his tone clipped.
She bit her tongue, deciding not to argue. "Fine. What's on the agenda today?"
"First, we'll discuss your responsibilities," Liam said, sliding a sleek tablet across the table. He tapped the screen, and a detailed itinerary appeared. "You'll handle scheduling, emails, errands, and research. There's a gala this weekend where I'll need you to assist with taking notes and identifying potential partnerships."
Emma's stomach sank as she scrolled through the seemingly endless list of tasks. "You expect me to do all this? On my second day?"
"This is a job, not a training program," Liam said, his tone as frosty as his gaze. "Sink or swim."
She set the tablet down, her jaw tight. "Got it, boss."
---
A Rocky Start
Emma's first task was to tackle Liam's email inbox, which was an unholy mess of unread messages, flagged reminders, and spam. She stared at the screen in disbelief.
"Do you ever delete anything?" she asked, glancing at Liam, who was now pacing the room, his phone pressed to his ear.
"Delegating is your job now," he replied without looking at her.
Emma muttered a string of curses under her breath and got to work. By midmorning, she'd organized the chaos into color-coded folders, flagged the urgent emails, and even drafted replies for Liam's approval.
"You're welcome," she said quietly, smiling at her small victory.
---
The First Errand
Liam appeared at the door to the office, holding a black credit card.
"I need you to pick up a custom suit for the gala," he said. "It's ready at Moretti & Sons downtown."
Emma hesitated before taking the card. "You trust me with this?"
"I trust you to follow instructions," Liam said, his tone neutral.
She rolled her eyes but grabbed her bag. "Be right back, boss."
---
The boutique was a palace of high fashion, with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling and velvet-lined shelves displaying suits that probably cost more than her car. The staff eyed her thrift-store jeans and scuffed boots with poorly disguised disdain.
"I'm here to pick up a suit for Liam Ashford," Emma said, forcing a smile.
"Of course," one of the clerks said, her tone syrupy. She returned with a sleek garment bag and handed it over carefully, as though it contained the crown jewels.
Emma inspected the suit, marveling at the craftsmanship. "This thing probably costs more than my entire wardrobe," she muttered as she signed the receipt.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Liam: Don't dawdle.
Emma sighed. "Yes, your majesty."
---
The Clash
When Emma returned, Liam was in his office, pacing like a caged tiger. His sharp, clipped tone carried through the hall.
"I don't care about projections," he snapped into the phone. "If the product isn't perfect, we don't launch."
Emma hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt.
Liam ended the call abruptly and turned to her, his expression stormy. "What took you so long?"
Emma blinked. "It's downtown. I can't control traffic."
His jaw tightened. "Excuses don't impress me."
"And micromanaging doesn't impress me," she shot back before she could stop herself.
Liam's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she thought he might explode. Instead, he simply folded his arms. "I see we're already testing boundaries."
Emma exhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay calm. "Look, I'm trying, okay? But if you expect me to read your mind and defy the laws of physics, you're going to be disappointed."
For a long moment, Liam said nothing, his piercing gaze locked on hers. Finally, he sighed. "Just... don't let it happen again."
Emma bit back a retort and nodded.
---
Dinner at Dusk
By the time Emma finished her tasks for the day, she was utterly drained. She returned to the guesthouse, intent on collapsing onto the couch and losing herself in a book.
A knock on the door startled her.
When she opened it, Liam stood there, holding a small tray. The sight was so unexpected that she froze.
"What's this?" she asked, eyeing the cup of tea and plate of cookies.
"Consider it an apology," Liam said, his voice low.
Emma stared at him, momentarily speechless. "Are you... feeling okay?"
He smirked faintly. "Don't make me regret this."
She accepted the tray, her fingers brushing his briefly. "Thanks," she said softly.
Liam gave a curt nod and walked away, leaving Emma standing in the doorway, her mind spinning.
---
Lingering Thoughts
Emma set the tray on the coffee table and curled up on the couch with the tea in hand. The cookies were buttery and delicate, melting on her tongue. She couldn't remember the last time someone had done something kind for her—especially someone like Liam Ashford.
"Maybe he's not all bad," she murmured to herself.
But as she thought about the flashes of warmth she'd glimpsed beneath his icy exterior, a tiny voice in her head whispered a warning. Liam was still her boss, and whatever kindness he showed, it would come with strings attached.
For now, though, she allowed herself to savor the moment, wondering if she could navigate the storm that was Liam Ashford without losing herself in the process.