The storm rolled in with a vengeance, dark clouds swallowing the moon and rain slicing through the night like tiny daggers. Emma Carter shivered under her soaked hoodie, clutching her duffel bag tightly. The winding road she'd been trudging along for the past hour was a ribbon of mud, and her boots squelched miserably with every step.
"Just a little further," she muttered to herself, squinting through the downpour. Her phone was dead, her wallet was almost empty, and she was about as lost as one could be. When she saw the faint glow of lights through the trees, it felt like a sign from the universe—or at least a temporary reprieve from her terrible luck.
The property came into view as she climbed the hill. It wasn't just a house; it was a mansion. Modern architecture loomed against the stormy sky, all sleek glass and sharp angles, the kind of place that screamed wealth and exclusivity.
"Great," Emma mumbled. "Probably some tech billionaire's vacation home."
Still, she was desperate. Shelter was shelter, and she figured she could explain herself in the morning.
Her gaze drifted to the smaller structure tucked away behind the main house. A cozy guesthouse, its porch light glowing warmly, seemed much less intimidating. Emma made a beeline for it, grateful the door wasn't locked.
Inside, the guesthouse was everything Emma hadn't had in months—warm, dry, and luxurious. She marveled at the minimalist decor, running her fingers over the soft gray couch and the polished wood of the coffee table. A bottle of wine sat on the kitchen counter, next to an empty glass. The owner of this place clearly lived well.
"I'll just sleep here," Emma decided, dropping her bag near the couch. "One night. No harm done."
She peeled off her wet clothes, replacing them with the spare sweatshirt and leggings she'd packed. Exhaustion weighed her down as she sank into the couch, pulling a throw blanket over herself.
---
The next morning, Emma was yanked from a restless sleep by the sound of footsteps.
"Who the hell are you?"
Her eyes flew open to find a man standing in the doorway. He was tall—intimidatingly so—with dark brown hair neatly styled, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and piercing blue eyes that could freeze an ocean. He wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that looked like they belonged in a magazine spread.
Emma scrambled to sit up, clutching the blanket like a shield. "I—I can explain!"
"Start talking," he said, his voice clipped and cold.
"I got lost in the storm," she stammered. "I saw the light and thought... I didn't mean any harm, I swear!"
His eyes narrowed, scanning her from head to toe. "You thought it was okay to break into private property and squat here?"
"I didn't break in," Emma protested, feeling a spark of indignation. "The door wasn't locked."
"That doesn't make it legal."
"Well, I wasn't exactly planning to get caught!" she shot back before clapping a hand over her mouth.
His brow arched, and Emma realized that her sarcasm was probably not helping.
"I'll leave," she said quickly. "Right now. I didn't touch anything except the couch."
"No, you won't," he said sharply. "You're not going anywhere until I figure out what kind of scam you're running."
"Scam?" Emma repeated, incredulous. "I'm not a scammer!"
"Right," he said, crossing his arms. "Because random strangers just wander into luxury properties for no reason."
Emma's cheeks burned with frustration and embarrassment. "Look, I'm not here to rob you or whatever you're imagining. I was caught in the storm, and I didn't have anywhere else to go. That's it."
For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze boring into hers as if he were trying to peel back layers of truth. Finally, he sighed. "What's your name?"
"Emma Carter," she replied. "And you are?"
"Liam Ashford," he said curtly.
Her stomach sank. That name was familiar—too familiar. Liam Ashford wasn't just any tech billionaire; he was the tech billionaire. Founder of AshTech, one of the world's leading tech companies, and a man whose face was regularly splashed across business magazines. And here she was, dripping water onto his expensive hardwood floor.
"Wait," she said slowly, dread creeping in. "This is your house?"
"Yes," he said, exasperated. "What did you think it was? A public shelter?"
Emma groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, this is bad."
"On that, we agree," Liam said dryly.
---
Liam was used to dealing with problems—whether it was a crashing server or an investor's tantrum, he could handle it with calm efficiency. But this? This was chaos in human form.
He stared at the disheveled woman standing in his guesthouse, her auburn hair a messy halo around her face and her green eyes wide with embarrassment. She didn't look like a threat, but appearances could be deceiving.
"You're lucky I didn't call the cops last night," he said, pulling out his phone.
Emma's eyes widened. "Wait! Don't do that! I'll leave, I swear. You'll never see me again."
Something about the desperation in her voice made Liam hesitate. He studied her again, noticing the worn duffel bag at her feet and the way her clothes didn't quite fit—like they were meant for practicality, not style.
"Where exactly would you go?" he asked.
She hesitated, her shoulders sagging. "I... don't know."
Her admission was quiet, but it hit Liam harder than he expected. He rubbed his temples, cursing his soft heart.
"Here's the deal," he said finally. "You're not staying here for free."
Her head snapped up, eyes hopeful. "You're letting me stay?"
"Temporarily," he clarified. "But you're going to work for it. I need an assistant, and you seem... resourceful enough."
"An assistant?" Emma echoed, her voice dripping with disbelief.
"Yes. My last assistant quit, and I haven't had time to hire a replacement."
Emma bit her lip, clearly weighing her options. "What exactly would I have to do?"
"Whatever I tell you to," Liam said flatly.
Her eyes narrowed. "You're not some kind of psycho, are you?"
Liam snorted. "You're the one who broke into my house, and I'm the psycho?"
Touché.
"Fine," Emma said after a long pause. "I'll do it. But only until I can get back on my feet."
"Deal," Liam said, extending a hand.
Emma hesitated, then shook it. His grip was firm, his skin warm against hers, and for a moment, she felt an odd flutter in her chest.
"Welcome to the team," Liam said, his tone both sardonic and oddly amused.
Emma had no idea what she'd just gotten herself into, but one thing was certain—her life was about to get a whole lot more complicated.