I was face-to-face with Khalic Bakhtiar.

Well, more like face-to-bare-torso with him considering he was a good six inches taller than me, but still. Holy shit. He was here.

I would have laughed at anyone who told me I was going to meet my new boss while he was half-naked, cotton pajama pants hanging low on his hips. I would have laughed even harder if they told me I was bound to stare at his abs for a second too long before managing to drag my gaze up to his face.

Searching for pictures of him online had done nothing to prepare me for seeing him in the flesh. While his mugshot hadn’t been the best photo, it was clear that he was a handsome man, one who could have even been a model in another life. But in person, handsome wasn’t a strong enough word to describe cheekbones that high and a mouth that sinful. And there was absolutely no adjective for the depths of his eyes, a blended shade of blue-green that couldn’t decide which it wanted to be. No, this was the kind of attractiveness that could steal your breath away, and mine was definitely long gone. As I took in his smooth golden skin and perfectly chiseled body, there was no chance of it returning any time soon.

However, I wasn’t supposed to be admiring the drop-dead gorgeous man in front of me like that. Those thoughts were strictly off-limits for about a thousand different reasons, the biggest being that he was my employer.

And the second biggest being that he’s, you know, a convicted murderer and all.

“Mr. Bakhtiar!” Gerald exclaimed, his panicked voice snapping me back to attention. “Good morning! Is there something I can get you?”

When our boss didn’t immediately respond, I couldn't help but glance up at him once again. To my horror, he was already staring back at me.

Even though I’d noticed his unique eye color almost immediately, it had taken feeling the full force of his gaze on me to realize how cold they were. He hadn’t said a word to me yet, but I already felt unwelcome and rejected. Maybe Gerald hadn’t been exaggerating after all—I would have taken a lashing in Farsi any day over this bone-chilling stare.

“I heard you talking to someone other than Luz,” he finally said, and I found myself biting the inside of my cheek at the deep timbre of his voice. “You know no one else is allowed up here.”

As he spoke, it was easy to imagine him at the front of a boardroom, commanding the attention of everyone whether they liked it or not. He was clearly CEO material, the kind of man who had been born with a dominating presence, and I was sure that time and experience would only help hone it. Besides, it took a special kind of self-assurance to make someone else feel inferior while wearing nothing but green plaid pajama pants.

Although his answer had been directed at Gerald, his next question was undoubtedly for me.

“So. Who the hell are you?”

I cleared my throat, making sure my voice wasn’t about to fail me, but Gerald swooped in before I could speak.

“This is Rose Thompson, sir,” he said, skittering around the desk to my side. “Your new assistant.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Gerald.”

Mr. Bakhtiar was still staring at me, paying his current assistant no mind as the man dipped his head and muttered an apology. I was doing my best not to cower as well, despite how much I wanted to. Somehow, I managed to square my shoulders and stick out a trembling hand, praying my palm wasn’t too clammy.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bakhtiar.”

To my embarrassment, his eyes flickered to my outstretched hand with blatant disgust before snapping back to my face. I could have sworn I saw a hint of a sneer on his lips before his expression returned to an unreadable neutral.

“It’s Khalid.”

There was an awkward beat of silence after his correction. I took that moment to draw my hand back, acknowledging what he’d said with a nod even though I couldn’t believe he was insisting we be on first-name basis. Another second passed before he finally looked back to Gerald, letting me off the hook.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” he continued, and from the corner of my eye I could see the blood drain from Gerald’s face. “I called to tell you I wanted coffee this morning, not tea. I’m sick of it.”

I held my breath as Gerald patted the pockets of his khakis, searching for his phone, but went still as we both spotted it sitting on the edge of the desk.

“I am so sorry, sir,” he blurted, hand darting out to grab the device. “I must have accidentally left it up here when I went to the kitchen. But I can go get you that coffee right now! Do you have any preference? Cream? Sugar? Any flavoring? Or would you like an espresso? A latte, maybe?”

I cringed as he babbled on, and even Mr. Bakhtiar—there was no way I could call him by his first name—seemed uncomfortable with the assistant’s attempts to remedy the situation.

“I just want a regular fucking cup of coffee, Gerald,” he exhaled, running a hand through his dark, magnificently thick hair. “Do you think you can handle that?”

It took every ounce of strength I possessed not to trace the line of his bicep as he moved, skin stretched taut over the muscle, and I swallowed hard as I forced my eyes back to a red-cheeked Gerald.

“Of course, sir. Again, I apologize for the inconvenience.” He bowed his head as he turned, fingers darting out to wrap around my wrist. “You. Come with me.”

I didn’t bother to pull out of his grasp, allowing him to tow me along towards the steps, but I stopped short when Mr. Bakhtiar’s voice rang out.

“Wait.”

Gerald sucked in a sharp breath before dropping my wrist and turning back to our boss. “Sir?”

Mr. Bakhtiar nodded in my direction. “When does she officially start?”

“Friday. I’ll be training her until then.”

He made a vague sound of agreement, but his face was still irritatingly unreadable. “Move it up to tomorrow. I think it’s time you went back to Mahmoud.”

Gerald’s eyes went comically wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I could see he wanted to object, but he nodded stiffly instead. “Understood.”

“Good.” Mr. Bakhtiar's expression of indifference didn’t change as he shifted away, dismissing us without having to say a word. “Send Luz up on your way to the kitchen. I need to know when this place will finally have some competent people running things.”

“Yes, sir.”

We didn’t move until he was halfway down the hall, and then Gerald was grabbing my wrist once again and dragging me downstairs.

“Oh my God,” he breathed out as we reached the bottom of the staircase, enthusiastically waving Luz over. When he looked back to me, his eyes were wide and bright, no trace of his earlier panic in sight. “That was insane.”

I couldn’t lie, I was a little shaken from the encounter, both because I’d finally gotten to meet the elusive Khalid Bakhtiar and because dear God, he was easily the most attractive man I’d ever seen.

Despite that, I was trying my best to play it off. “Was it?”

Gerald rolled his eyes. “You’re new here, so obviously you wouldn’t get it, but that was the first time he’s left that room since he arrived. Not to mention he actually talked to you. He’s done nothing but demand tea from me. And hell, he never insisted I call him by his first name.”

So this was a bigger deal than I’d thought. Huh. Hopefully it meant I’d made a halfway decent first impression, but I wasn’t counting on it.

Luz was sliding up to us a moment later, having heard the tail end of Gerald’s speech. “Whoa, did he tell you to call him Khalid? Because I slipped up and referred to him by his first name to Rostami the other day and I thought I was going to get fired on the spot.”

Gerald shot me a pointed glance. “See? It’s clear he likes you.”

“I don’t think he’ll like me for long if we don’t hurry up and get him a cup of coffee,” I said, trying not to focus on the fact that he was already treating me differently from the other staff. Maybe it was a good sign, or maybe I was being set up to fail. “Oh, and Luz, he wants to talk to you about something, said to send you up.”

“Great, I finally get to meet the man.” She sighed and nodded, resigned to her fate. “If I die, make sure I get a proper burial.”

It felt a little weird to be cracking jokes like that when the man she was going upstairs to see was literally a murderer, but Gerald cackled as she brushed past us. Having a morbid sense of humor must have been a requirement to work here.

Ten minutes later, we were delivering yet another silver tray outside of Mr. Bakhtiar’s closed door, although this time I had the honor of knocking before we both turned and booked it. Once we were safely back at my desk, Gerald motioned for me to take a seat in the leather rolling chair.

“Now that the master has his caffeine, it’s time for your crash course.” With that, he nudged the laptop on the desk towards me. “Pull up your calendar and your notes, darlin’, ‘cause you’ve got a hell of a lot to learn in no time at all.”

***

I didn’t leave Bakhtiar Manor until after eight that night.

I’d been there for a full twelve hours, and had I been an hourly employee, I could only imagine the crazy overtime pay I’d be making if this was a normal thing. My position, however, was salaried, meaning no matter how long they kept me here every day, I’d still be making the same amount. But for sixty-thousand dollars a year, I had no room to complain quite yet.

The only break I’d had was for lunch, a quick twenty minutes to scarf down a sandwich and a bowl of soup, graciously provided by the chefs who served the employees at the Manor. I hadn’t even realized there was a second, much larger kitchen in the basement until Gerald had taken me down there to show me yet another conference room, used for when there were more people than could be crammed into the converted dining room on the main floor. There were also several more bathrooms down there, a small movie theater, and an actual freaking ballroom, complete with the second biggest chandelier I’d ever seen, just a hint smaller than the one in the foyer.

Even though I technically had full run of the house—minus whatever was in the west wing—I’d sat at the breakfast bar in the main floor kitchen as I ate and checked my personal phone, figuring this would become my hideaway when I didn’t want to be at my desk.

I had sent Dad a brief text saying I wouldn’t be home until late, but told him to call me if he needed anything. He’d been quick to respond, saying he was making lasagna tonight, but he’d stick it in the fridge for me to warm up if I was hungry when I got back. If he was cooking, it must have meant he was feeling better today, so as I texted him back with a few hearts and the knife-and-fork emoji, I knew I had one less thing to worry about today.

Which was good, because there was no room left in my brain once Gerald briefed me on everything.

I was officially granted access to all the company calendars, sent contact lists at least five-thousand people strong, and spent plenty of time running back and forth from both kitchens to bring Mr. Bakhtiar every snack, beverage, and meal he desired. Each time, I had knocked loudly on his bedroom door and then bolted back towards my desk before it opened.

I’d also been introduced to what felt like a million more people, establishing my position as Mr. Bakhtiar’s right-hand woman. I was the first mode of contact for anyone who wanted to speak or meet with him, the makeshift gatekeeper, and by the end of the day his schedule for the next two weeks was booked solid. I’d heard rumors that the PR team was going to take the news of his release fully public by Friday, so until then I was going to enjoy the last few days of having a relatively easy job.

At the end of the night, Gerald walked me to my car, shook my hand, and wished me luck. Well, sort of. In reality, he’d told me not to fuck everything up, which I figured was his way of hoping for the best for me.

Luz, on the other hand, had given me a hug before I’d left the house and said she’d see me tomorrow, but if I needed any help in the meantime—like if Mr. Bakhtiar needed something in the middle of the night—I could call her and she’d take care of it.

“I wouldn’t want to disturb you at home,” I’d said, but I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I might have to drive over here in the middle of the night. But that was the plight of a personal assistant; being available at all hours was part of the job.

“At home?” Luz had laughed, reaching out to touch my shoulder as if that was the funniest thing she’d heard in ages. “Oh, sweetie, I live here. Rostami moved me in before Bakhtiar got back so that I could spend all day and night working on this place. Hell, I don’t even think Gerald’s spent more than one night at his own apartment in the past week. Keeping this place running and Bakhtiar happy is a twenty-four-hour job.”

I’d left with her words ringing in my ears, wondering if that was bound to be my fate as well. Being available at all hours of the day was one thing, but actually having to live under my boss’s roof in order to do that? I wasn’t so sure I’d be okay with it.

By the time I climbed into my car, exhaustion hit me like a runaway train and I couldn’t wait to collapse in bed. Still, as much as I wanted to get out of there, I paused to check both of my phones again, making sure I hadn’t missed anything from Mr. Bakhtiar first before scrolling through my personal messages.

There was a text from Chad with news that he’d ordered a case of my favorite wine and that I should come over to grab a few bottles to take home. I was tempted to ignore him and head back to the suburbs, but damn, a glass of wine to go with Dad’s lasagna did sound nice. Besides, Chad lived a little less than two miles away from here, so it wouldn’t have been that much of a detour.

I was on the doorstep of his Georgetown brownstone in no time, letting him kiss me on the cheek as I stepped inside.

“I already opened one of the bottles,” he said as he trailed me into the immaculate kitchen, moving around the marble center island to where the uncorked bottle and two glasses were sitting. “You want some now?”

I shook my head, bending to grab two bottles out of the case by the fridge. “Can’t, I’ve still gotta drive home. How much do I owe you for these?”

As always, Chad waved a hand, dismissing my question of paying him back. “Come on, one glass won’t hurt. You’ll still be able to drive.” He grabbed the bottle, beginning to pour before I could protest. “Especially if I make you a panini to go with it.”

My stomach chose that unfortunate moment to growl. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch over seven hours ago and I was starving, but I really needed to get home. Then again, Chad was a decent cook, and he always had gourmet ingredients in his fridge that could have rivaled any fancy restaurant.

As he laughed, I slid onto one of the barstools and swiped the glass of wine he’d poured, nearly moaning as I took a sip. I’d needed it more than I’d thought.

“So, how was your first real day of work?” he asked as he began to gather the necessary ingredients from the fridge.

I took another taste of my drink before answering. “Well, I finally met my boss.”

“Oh yeah? So, what’s the murderer like?”

Intimidating. Impossible to read. Super fucking hot. “He’s… interesting. Definitely closed off, but he doesn’t seem too bad so far.”

“Yeah, doesn’t seem too bad until he snaps and tries to kill you.”

“Chad, come on,” I sighed. “Can we not do this tonight?”

He put his hands up in mock defeat, but I knew this conversation was nowhere near over. “You don’t know anything about him, Rose. Even if he doesn’t end up hurting you himself, who knows what other trouble he could get you into. Do you have any idea how many enemies Amir Bakhtiar made over the years? How many people he fucked over?”

“Khalid isn’t Amir, though.”

“Sweetheart,” Chad laughed, and the condescending note to it had me bristling. “The sins of the father don’t just disappear. Someone’s gotta pay.”

I stayed silent, sipping at my wine as he returned to cooking. Part of me wanted to snap that he didn’t know anything about the situation, but another part, the one that I’d been trying to ignore since I'd first heard Khalid’s name, knew he was right.

But there was nothing I could do except wait and see if anything would come of it—and pray that nothing would.