Bad Boy Rich

“Yes, that’s why you’re here.” She laughs, taking another bite of cake. “I’ve got baby brain. I need someone to help me with scheduling meetings, run business errands and meet with suppliers when I can’t. When I have interviews and appearances, I need someone to coordinate my publicist, stylist, the whole team. It is a very busy role but I think you’re the right fit, Milana.”

“I’m dedicated. We just need to find our groove. Does that make sense?”

Her eyes light up, impressed. “Total sense. So how about we start tomorrow? If you could meet me here at nine? Just wait here a second…”

Emerson stands up, her white shorts and navy-blue tank matching the fabric of the chair she was sitting in. She disappears only to return moments later. She’s carrying a laptop, phone and set of keys.

“This is for you.” She hands them to me, much to my bewilderment. “We can schedule the next twelve months’ of meetings tomorrow and sync our diaries. The keys are for the car that you’ll need to run errands. The phone is for business clients to contact you and myself.”

“But…this is…” I stumble on my words, feeling terrible for accepting the car.

“All part of the job.” She finishes my sentence. “And, a tax right-off. Charlie, my lawyer, will FedEx you the contracts to sign.”

Back home, Mildred Mason had one computer in the office and a landline. It was never an issue and somehow, we were contactable. Although I had a laptop and a brick, as Liam referred to it, this was all a bit much.

“Are you sure?” I question with uncertainty. “I was going to buy a car, I just wanted to get settled first.”

Emerson places the keys in my hand and rests her palm on mine, reassuring me that this wasn’t a pity handout. “I’m sure. There is one catch though.”

Of course there is.

r /> “One of my business associates is very difficult to work with. In fact, I limit contact with him because I can’t deal with him anymore.”

Odd, yet I’m curious as to why she doesn’t just cut ties.

“Your business partner?”

“Yes.” The subject appears to irritate her, the smile on her face disappearing and the grit in her teeth portraying her anger towards this individual. “As much as I would love to not deal with him, he has made it difficult for me to legally pull away from the business.”

He already sounded like a dickhead.

“It’s okay. When it comes to people like this, I can keep my head strong and stay focused on the job.”

She breathes a sign of relief and ends with a small giggle. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“If today’s debacle taught me anything, it’s to be prepared. You never know who’s just around the corner…”

There’s a loud thump…thump…thump against the wall.

The room is filled with the beautiful, warm sunlight that California is known for. I appreciated the small things in life, just not the loud banging against my wall. Stumbling out of bed in my boxers and worn-out KISS t-shirt, I make it out to the living room to see Flynn passed out on the sofa surrounded by bags of chips and empty bottles of cola. It suddenly dawns on me that the sound was coming from the wall I shared with my elderly neighbors.

Oh dear God…no.

I ignore the mental images. The empty coffee pot that sits on our old counter top is the only thing I want right now. With a pot brewing and some cereal in a bowl, I sit at the table with my planner.

My first week on the job was chaotic. Emerson had introduced me to many of the staff that worked for her which meant driving around LA and being stuck in traffic for most of the day. My to-do-list is a mile long but I was determined. I would do this and do a damn fine job. The busy workload distracted me from being homesick and the ill feeling that constantly sat at the pit of my stomach.

On today’s agenda, I would be accompanying Emerson to the studios. To be honest—I’m rather excited. I didn’t consider myself a star-struck fan-type person but something about this place brought it out of me. That, and Phoebe was relentless. Texting me a thousand times a day with celebrity sightings. It’s the reason I hadn’t mentioned that my boss is Emerson Chase.

“Grrrrr…”

The groan interrupts my thought process. Flynn sits up on the sofa, rubbing his eyes and coughing out what sounded like a fur ball. I felt terrible that I had been so busy with work the past week, never getting a proper chance to spend time with him and see what he was up to.

“Big night with a bag of potato chips?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, eyes closed half asleep. “What time is it?”

I pick up my phone to see the time. “A little after six.”