Chapter 1
Joanna's POV
My hands were shaking.
Not from the cold, but from the bill I'd just received—Mom's chemotherapy costs had gone up another three thousand dollars. I stared at that number, feeling like the ground had dropped out from under me.
"Joanna, latte for table six!" My manager's voice yanked me back to reality.
I took a deep breath, stuffed the bill into my apron pocket, and picked up the tray.
This was my second job of the day. Between this upscale café and my other job, I was pulling seventy-hour weeks.
I balanced a full tray of drinks, weaving carefully through the maze of crowded tables.
Everything happened too fast.
I tried to squeeze past a crowded table, but my apron caught on a chair. I lost my balance. The tray went flying, scalding coffee cascading like a waterfall toward the man in front of me.
"Damn it!" The voice was deep.
My heart nearly stopped. The man standing before me wore what had to be a thousand-dollar Italian suit—now stained brown with coffee. But it wasn't his expensive clothes that made me forget how to breathe. It was his eyes.
They were arctic blue and impossibly deep. When he looked at me, I felt completely exposed, as if he could read every secret buried in my soul. He was tall—at least six-two—with broad shoulders and a jawline that could cut glass.
This wasn't just any customer. Even drenched in coffee, he radiated raw power.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" I fumbled for napkins, reaching to help clean his suit, but he caught my wrist.
His touch sent electricity through my skin. I looked up to find him staring at my face with the strangest expression, like he'd seen a ghost.
His eyes shifted from anger to shock, then to something that looked almost like grief.
"You..." His voice turned rough. "What's your name?"
"Joanna. Joanna Bennett." My voice came out barely above a whisper.
He released my hand and stepped back, his face going pale. For just a moment, I saw the pain in his eyes.
He was looking at me like I was someone he'd lost.
The café noise faded to white static. It was just us, and whatever this moment was.
"Be careful." He dropped those words and walked away, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding like thunder.
I watched his figure disappear into the crowd, my legs like jelly.
"Joanna!" Manager Rodriguez rushed over, his face flushed with panic. "Do you have any idea who you just crossed?"
I shook my head, dread pooling in my stomach.
"That was Sebastian King! CEO of King Enterprises! One of the most powerful men in this city!" He was practically hissing. "If he complains, we're all finished!"
Sebastian King.
Of course I'd heard the name—who hadn't? The papers said he could destroy anyone who crossed him overnight. And I had just dumped coffee all over him.
Two hours later, I returned home with a nervous heart.
Our apartment was in the old part of the city, a fifty-year-old building where the elevator was always broken. I climbed four flights of stairs to reach our door.
Mom's coughing drifted from the bedroom, each sound like a needle in my heart. She used to be the most beautiful dance teacher in the city. Now cancer was eating her alive.
"Joanna?" Tommy looked up from the couch, his math homework spread across the coffee table. Even though it was past ten, he'd waited up for me. He was only ten, but his eyes held too much understanding for a kid. "You look tired."
I forced a smile and hung up my coat. "Just busy at work. Did you finish your homework?"
He nodded, then asked carefully, "When will Mom get better?"
My heart broke. "Soon, baby. Soon."
But we both knew it was a lie.
I went into Mom's room. She was propped against the headboard, her face white as paper. Chemo had stolen all her hair, but she was still the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
"Joanna, don't work so hard." Her voice was barely a whisper.
"I'm fine, Mom." I sat on the bed and took her thin hand in mine. "Do you need anything?"
She shook her head, but I saw the worry in her eyes.
My phone rang. When I saw the caller ID, my stomach dropped—Frank, my stepfather.
"I'll take this outside." I told Mom and stepped onto the balcony.
"Joanna, sweetheart." Frank's voice was slurred with alcohol and fake affection. "I've run into a little problem."
"Lost money gambling again?"
"Just bad luck. I need five thousand dollars. Tomorrow."
"I don't have five thousand dollars, Frank."
"Then you better find it." His voice turned sinister. "Otherwise I'm selling the apartment. Don't forget—the deed's in my name."
My blood turned to ice. The apartment had been bought when Mom married Frank, but because of her bad credit, they'd put it in his name. Now it was his weapon against us.
"You can't do this. Mom needs a stable place to recover."
"Then get me the money." The line went dead.
I gripped the phone, feeling my world collapse. Five thousand dollars—how many months would I have to work to save that much? And Mom's medical bills kept climbing.
My phone lit up again. A text from my brother Daniel: [Joanna, I had a dream that you were in danger. Are you okay?]
I stared at the screen, emotions churning. Daniel was always like this, like he had some sixth sense about me. He'd been my protector since we were kids.
But lately he looked exhausted, with shadows under his eyes. His job wasn't stable either. I couldn't burden him more.
I texted back: [I'm fine, don't worry. Get some sleep.]
Back in the living room, Tommy had fallen asleep on the couch, his math homework still spread on the coffee table. I gently covered him with a blanket.
Then I sat at the small kitchen table and opened my laptop, calculating our finances. No matter how I ran the numbers, they didn't add up. Mom's medical bills, rent, groceries, Tommy's school fees—our expenses far exceeded my income.
I thought about Sebastian's eyes, that look I couldn't shake. Why would a stranger look at me that way?
Something told me this wasn't over. That Sebastian King wasn't done with me yet.
The next morning, while I was preparing Mom's medication, my phone rang.
"Miss Joanna Bennett?" The voice was crisp and professional.
"Yes." My heart started racing.
"I'm Mr. Sebastian King's personal assistant. Tomorrow at nine AM, please report to King Enterprises headquarters for an interview for the position of personal assistant. I'll send the address to your phone."
My blood froze. "Wait, I didn't apply for—"
"This isn't a request, Miss Bennett. Mr. King is expecting you. Please be punctual."
The line went dead.
I held the phone, my hands shaking.
Sebastian King—the man who'd looked at me so strangely at the café. Why did he want to see me?
I remembered his touch, the way he'd stared at me like I was a ghost.
What did he want? And was I walking into something I couldn't handle?
Mom's coughing from the bedroom reminded me I had no choice. Whatever Sebastian wanted, I had to go. Because I needed money, and he clearly had plenty.
But my instincts told me the price of this job might be higher than I could imagine.
