Chapter 2
423words
The voice on the other end was crisp and efficient.
"Miss Sterling, I'm calling on behalf of Mr. Alexander Romano. He'd like to meet with you regarding a job opportunity."
Emma's fingers froze around her phone.
When Emma entered Romano Group's "temporary" Cambridge office, she finally understood what that word meant to billionaires.
They'd taken over an entire floor—floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Charles River, minimalist décor that screamed money without saying a word.
Alex sat against this backdrop like he'd been born there.
He'd shed his suit for a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled up casually. Less sharp, but somehow more intimidating in his relaxed state.
"Sit."
His voice cut sharper than it had during the lecture.
Emma perched on the edge of the chair across from him, spine ramrod straight.
Alex slid a document toward her.
"Personal research assistant. You'll analyze startups in emerging markets. The salary will more than cover your current… situation."
His gaze was direct, as though discussing nothing more significant than the weather.
Emma's heart hammered against her ribs, blood rushing to her head until the room swam.
God, she needed this money.
But suspicion crashed over her like ice water, shocking her back to reality.
"Why me? We're strangers."
Her voice cracked slightly, but her eyes remained sharp.
Alex's lips curved upward—he liked her directness.
"Because everyone deserves a shot at their dreams."
He delivered the line with practiced philanthropy.
Emma didn't buy it. She knew exactly how the world worked.
"There's no such thing as a free lunch. What's the real price?"
She stared directly into his eyes, searching for the truth hidden there.
Alex leaned forward, closing the gap between them.
He caught the faint scent of drugstore soap on her skin—clean to the point of austerity.
"In return?"
He let out a soft laugh.
"Your question yesterday was worth more than you know. I need perspectives like yours—minds not yet domesticated by capital."
"That's my price."
His logic was flawless, neatly packaging charity as fair exchange.
Emma went silent.
She had no right to refuse.
After a long moment, she nodded, her voice barely audible but steel-firm.
"Fine. I accept."
Her hand hovered over the contract, fingertips white with pressure, but she didn't sign immediately.
Alex studied her tense profile—that stubborn guardedness didn't repel him. Quite the opposite.
He savored the feeling.
Like catching a fledgling before it hit the ground and setting it back toward the sky.
