Mila's POV
"What... a trip?" I turned, my voice filled with disbelief.
"Yes, a trip, Miss Brown. Or did I stutter? Maybe you didn't hear me correctly," Mr. Harris snapped, his irritation palpable.
"But, Mr. Harris... Your father never took me on trips when I worked with him," I murmured, my fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of my blouse.
Bang! A loud noise echoed through the room, making my heart race. I looked up, frozen in fear.
"Miss Brown..." His voice dripped with tension, each syllable laced with anger.
"I am not my father, okay? And I would never be him," he spat, his eyes flashing with raw rage.
I stood there, paralyzed by his outburst, unable to form a response.
"Okay, Mr. Harris, I'll get started on the preparations. Do you have a specific airline in mind?" I asked quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Harris chuckled darkly as he brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, his gaze softening for a moment.
"I've got that covered. Just handle the other arrangements. I'll email you the instructions so you don't mess things up," he said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of control.
I nodded silently, my face falling as I processed his words.
"Is that all, Mr. Harris? Can I take my leave now?" I asked, shifting nervously on my feet, my anxiety rising.
"Just get out," he ordered, a flick of his hand dismissing me.
I walked out of his office, my heart pounding in my chest. What was I even supposed to make of this trip? No executive ever took their assistant on a trip—company policy strictly forbade it. But Mr. Harris, CEO of Harris Construction, was no ordinary man. He was the exception to every rule.
"Why does he have to be such a pain in my life? Causing chaos in my heart, not even giving my mind the space to think clearly?"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
I pushed through the day, handling the necessary arrangements as Mr. Harris dictated. Two rooms at a five-star hotel in London. At least, I thought, I'll get to see London.
But that was the only thought that seemed to occupy my mind—a trip with Mr. Harris, alone.
Five days later
The countdown to the trip was upon me, and the anxiety was gnawing at my insides. Five days. I couldn't even believe I was going through with this. I decided to start packing, anything to keep myself busy, as Mr. Harris had given me the week off to prepare.
"What are you doing?" Maya's voice broke through my thoughts.
"Packing," I murmured, not looking up.
Maya plopped onto my bed, her curiosity clear as she tilted her head to the side, eyes scanning my suitcase.
"And why? Where are you going?" she asked, her gaze flicking from my clothes to my face.
I sighed, folding a shirt with more force than necessary. "I'm going to London."
"London?" Maya repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because Mr. Harris is forcing me on this trip," I said, my heart skipping at the mere mention of his name.
Maya's jaw dropped. "Shut the front door..."
"Are you telling me you're going on a trip with your super-hot boss?" she squealed, pulling me down onto the bed with her.
"Maya, it's just for work," I said, my voice tinged with nervousness. "But what worries me is that there's a company policy saying no executive is allowed to travel with their assistant. What will people think?"
Maya stared at me as if I were the most clueless person in the world, then broke into a wide grin. She pulled me into a hug.
"Mila, who cares what others think? Your boss asked you to do this, and you're only answerable to him, not to anyone else. Besides, who knows? Maybe you'll make him fall for you—just like I've always wanted," she teased with a mischievous smirk.
I groaned. "Oh my goodness, Maya, can you think of anything else?"
She rolled her eyes. "So, when's the trip with your hunk of a boss?"
"In five days," I said, the nerves already starting to kick in.
"WHAT?" Maya's eyes widened. "Five days, and you're just now packing? What is wrong with you?" She covered her face with her hands, groaning.
"I just don't want to forget anything important, okay?" I replied, frowning at her.
"You are such a nerd," Maya teased.
Five days later
The day had come. My nerves were eating me alive.
I hadn't slept a wink the night before. When dawn broke, I overslept, waking up in a panic.
"Mila, is your work trip still on for today?" My mom's voice dragged me from my sleep.
"Yeah, why?" I rubbed my tired eyes, still groggy.
"Because it's past 1 PM," she replied nonchalantly.
"What?! No! No... NO!" I yelped, scrambling out of bed. "I'm going to be late! Mr. Harris will kill me!"
I rushed into the bathroom, my heart racing. Mr. Harris was already mad at me for... well, existing, and now this. I could feel my anxiety rising to dangerous levels.
Please, just let me make it there on time, I silently prayed as I scrambled to get ready.
I quickly showered and threw on a pair of baggy joggers and a crop top. My hair was pulled into a messy bun—definitely not my best look, but I didn't have time to care.
I grabbed my bag and dashed for the taxi, which was already waiting outside. My heart pounded in my chest as I waved goodbye to my mom and sister.
When I arrived at the airport, I ran through the lobby, weaving through the crowd, my pulse thumping loudly in my ears.
Where was he? Had he already left without me?
Then I spotted him—a tall, imposing figure in a perfectly tailored black suit. He stood out like a god among mortals, his presence commanding attention. Mr. Harris.
I froze, watching him scan the lobby. He was looking for someone—he was looking for me.
I rushed toward him, out of breath. "Mr. Harris..."
He turned slowly, and for a brief moment, his face softened with what I could only describe as relief... and something else, something unfamiliar. But then it was gone, replaced by his usual disdain.
"You're late, Mrs. Brown," he said, his voice cold, arms crossed over his chest.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Harris," I stammered, barely audible.
"Do you know how long I've been waiting amid these... common people?" He emphasized the words as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.
"I'm really sorry, Mr. Harris," I muttered again, my gaze dropping to the floor to avoid his intense scrutiny.
Silence.
"Follow me," he ordered abruptly, turning on his heel and walking away. I hurried to follow him, trying to ignore the unsettling churn in my stomach.
We made our way to a private hangar, where a sleek plane waited, ready for takeoff. A pilot and stewardess were already aboard.
"That one," Mr. Harris said, pointing to the aircraft, his tone final.
I stood there, staring in awe at the luxury. This world... it was so different from mine. But before I could even blink, Mr. Harris was already moving past me, impatient.
"If you're done staring, can you just get in?" he snapped.
I hesitated, then stepped onto the plane, my heart pounding with excitement and fear. I'd never been on a private jet before. Hell, I'd never been out of the country.
Inside, the plane was stunning—wine, desserts, everything meticulously arranged.
"Just sit down, Miss Brown," Mr. Harris ordered from across the cabin, irritation clear in his voice.
I hesitated, then took my seat across from him, my legs trembling. I quickly looked away, desperately avoiding his gaze.
"Miss Brown, your seatbelt," he said, pointing toward it.
I fumbled with the seatbelt, struggling to get it fastened. Suddenly, he leaned in, his face dangerously close, his eyes locking with mine. My breath hitched in my throat, and time seemed to stand still.
With swift efficiency, he fixed my seatbelt and returned to his seat, his gaze never leaving mine. The storm inside me intensified, swirling with confusion and desire.
Could I survive this trip with Mr. Harris? My boss. The man who was slowly unraveling everything I thought I knew about myself.