I was a little hungover the next morning.

After dinner at Chad’s, I’d gone home and polished off half a bottle of wine as I continued my research on the Bakhtiar family, falling down the rabbit hole of internet articles.

Chad’s words had spooked me more than I cared to admit, and I spent most of the night putting together a list of companies and high-profile individuals who publicly claimed to have been wronged by Amir Bakhtiar. Part of me thought I’d be able to quell my fears after a little investigating, but all it had gotten me was a new dose of paranoia and three hours of restless sleep.

Despite my misgivings, I still showed up to work the next morning, greeting Luz at the door before heading to the kitchen to brew coffee for Mr. Bakhtiar—and, okay, maybe a cup for myself too.

It was eight-thirteen when I made it upstairs with the serving tray. I paused at my desk to drop off my own coffee and steel myself for the trek down the hall. Without Gerald by my side for moral support, the hallway seemed eerier than usual, like the big bad wolf was waiting for me at the end.

The more I thought about it, the dumber it sounded. God, it wasn’t like I had to go in and serve it to him. I just had to set down the tray, knock, and run. That was it.

So after one last deep breath, I set off.

Thankfully, nothing jumped out of the closed doors that lined the hallway, and I arrived at Mr. Bakhtiar’s bedroom without incident, kneeling down to carefully place the tray on the carpet. But before I could climb to my feet and sprint out of there, the double doors were swinging open.

To my surprise, it wasn’t Mr. Bakhtiar standing there, but a woman. She was all long legs and blonde hair with a smile to die for, the kind of pretty that was both approachable and completely disarming, which was the only reason I managed a squeaked, “Um, hello,” as she narrowly missed impaling my hand with the heel of her Jimmy Choo stilettos.

I was about to scramble out of her way, but as I leaned back I made the mistake of looking into the bedroom. In my line of sight was a king size bed, and directly in the middle of it, lounging against a spread of pillows, was my boss.

Even though I’d seen him shirtless yesterday, there was something distinctly different about seeing him with a sheet draped low across his hips, and there was no question that he wasn’t wearing pajama pants this time.

“Whoops, sorry!” the woman exclaimed, dragging my attention back up as she awkwardly stepped around me. “Didn’t mean to get in your way.”

“It’s okay.” I was quick to move the tray this time, finally regaining some of my wits. “I’m sorry about that.”

She flashed another wide smile, distracting me once again, and I was still on my knees by the time she was halfway down the hall.

Who the hell was that?

It took another beat before I managed to shake my head and turn back to the doorway, truly prepared to put the tray down and get the hell away, but I almost jumped out of my skin when I realized Mr. Bakhtiar had climbed out of bed.

He was wearing a pair of boxer-briefs, saving me from an even more embarrassing encounter, although I couldn’t say they left much to the imagination—especially when I was on my knees and he was standing right in front of me.

I swore under my breath and staggered to my feet, trying not to slosh coffee as I rose. Before I could even think to mutter good morning, he was rolling his eyes and taking the tray from my hands. And then, just as suddenly as the door had opened, he was slamming it in my face.

Luz was waiting by my desk when I stumbled back down the hallway, collapsing into my desk chair as I attempted to recover.

“Judging from the look on your face, I’m guessing you met Amanda,” she snickered.

I wasn’t about to mention that I’d also seen the outline of our boss's very impressive package, so I merely nodded. “Who is she?”

“Old friend of Bakhtiar’s from university, apparently.” Luz shrugged. “He messaged me last night to say that he had someone coming over. And since I’m a nosy bitch, I asked to see her ID to make sure I was letting in the right person, but all I wanted to do was Google her.”

I had to hand it to Luz, that was both smart and sly as hell.

“Anyway,” she continued, “Amanda Pearson-Woods studied at Oxford and now works at the UN. Pretty sure she’s only in town for a couple days since she works in New York, but that was plenty of time for a booty call.”

I couldn’t stop my upper lip from curling. While I wasn’t anything close to a prude, it felt a little weird to know about my boss’s sex life, but it seemed like that was yet another part of the job. We were really putting the personal in personal assistant.

Luz didn’t miss my reaction, likely taking it as me being uptight. “Oh, come on, don’t make that face. The man is a gorgeous billionaire who hasn’t gotten laid in nearly a decade. Let him live.” With that, she pushed off my desk and took a few steps backward. “You have a meeting with the PR team in five minutes, by the way. They want you to help draft a statement about Bakhtiar’s release.”

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll be down in a second.”

As Luz left, I took a moment to power up my laptop and quickly skim Mr. Bakhtiar’s schedule, but I all I could see was the image of him stretched out in bed. And for a moment, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to lie there next to him.

I forcefully shook the thought away as I grabbed a notebook and pen, hoping this meeting would be the distraction I needed.

I followed behind a stream of people filing into the converted dining room when I made it downstairs. Mr. Rostami was already seated at the head of the table, surrounded by a few members of the PR team I’d been introduced to yesterday. Gerald had pulled up a chair behind him and looked surprisingly chipper, even giving me a little finger wave as I took my seat at the opposite end of the table.

Once everyone was settled, it ended up being a relatively quick meeting. PR had already drafted an announcement regarding Mr. Bakhtiar’s release and return to the company. It all seemed pretty simple, but I understood that all of this needed to be phrased and presented delicately; it wasn’t every day that someone with a criminal record and little-to-no experience was appointed CEO at a Fortune 500 company. The last thing they—or really, I needed to be saying we, considering I was now one of them—needed was for the stockholders to get spooked and pull their support.

I had a feeling that was also why the second part of the plan was to host a party here at the Manor on Saturday to officially welcome Mr. Bakhtiar back into the fold. When the head of PR looked in my direction for final approval, it truly dawned on me that it was my role to make decisions on Mr. Bakhtiar’s behalf. From what I knew of the guy so far, I didn’t think he was all that interested in showing himself off to the world at a party, but if everyone else thought it was a good idea, who was I to say no?

“Sure,” I said. “That all sounds great.”

***

As it turned out, though, it really wasn’t so great.

I knew I should have gone with my gut feeling when it came to the party, and Mr. Bakhtiar’s reaction when I finally worked up the nerve to call and give him the news made me wish that I’d trusted it.

“Are you stupid?” he had hissed after a long silence. “You think I want all of those people in my house? To serve myself up for anyone to get to me?”

“Your PR team thought—”

“Fuck them. And fuck everyone who will show up just because they want to see a killer up close and personal. You should have known better than to even think I’d be okay with this.”

I had swallowed hard then, the lashing making my chest constrict, and it had taken a concerted effort to keep my voice from dropping to an ashamed mumble. “So do you—do you want me to cancel the party?”

“Are you even listening to me? I’m telling you that you shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place!”

I dropped my head and nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “I’m so sorry, sir, I’ll call them right now and have them scrap the idea. I should have run it by you first.”

There had been another pause, slightly shorter this time, and then he had sighed. “Don’t bother. Let them have their party. Whatever happens is on them.”

Then he’d hung up on me.

In the five hours since that conversation, I’d been thrown into meeting after meeting in order to get this party put together in a handful of days. The announcement and invitations were slated to be sent out tomorrow, so I could only imagine the sheer amount of calls and emails I’d be fielding twenty-four hours from now.

So not only did I have to perform my normal tasks—like bringing him all his meals, making sure the maids were let in to clean without pissing him off, and guarding the west wing from the insistent PersOil employees who wanted to speak with him—but I had to help plan a party on top of it all. If this wasn’t trial by fire, I wasn’t sure what was.

Thankfully, Luz was there to help me delegate tasks, and I settled in to finalize the guest list.

“Do you know if he has any friends he wants to invite?” I asked when she came upstairs to show me the preliminary security layout, which included guards at every entrance and exit, and a metal detector at the front door. “Like, I don’t know, that Amanda person?”

“Do I look like I know who the man’s friends with?” She rolled her eyes and dropped the stack of papers on my desk. “Plus, do you think he’s the type who maintained his friendships while behind bars?”

“I mean, he must have made an impression on Amanda if she was sneaking out of his bedroom this morning.”

Luz at least had the decency to offer me a halfhearted chuckle. “Figure it out, Rose. You’re a big girl.”

I probably could have called Mr. Bakhtiar to ask, but I wasn’t interested in getting yelled at again, or even just flat out ignored. Although, once the announcement of his return went out, he was going to have a very hard time ignoring me or anyone else.

Tomorrow he was officially going to become one of the most powerful men in the world. He was going to have to leave that stupid room and actually take on his job as CEO instead of moping around.

To be honest, I was almost afraid of that. I had seen his not-so-nice side and felt the burn of his stare, which might have been good for a businessman to have, but I couldn’t see it going over well with everyone he encountered. More than anything, I could see it getting him into the kind of trouble that couldn’t easily be fixed.

Maybe keeping him away from everyone was truly for the best. But it was too late for that.

Khalid Bakhtiar was coming for the world whether it was ready or not.