He needs me?

Exhausted. I was incredibly exhausted, and that was not even an exaggeration. It had been a week since I signed the contract, and I had never felt this drained in my life.

I had been juggling everything at once, from understanding the collection to trying to adapt it into Mr Roberto’s style without losing my own creative identity. The only silver lining was that I had not seen him since the day the contract was signed. Most of my communication had been through his secretary, Miss Emily.

She sent me his measurements, his preferences, and every piece of information I needed with clinical precision.

And honestly, Mr Roberto seemed to want absolutely nothing to do with me. And if I was being truthful, I hoped it stayed that way.

“Do you really have to do this? You have been working tirelessly and now you are going to the company on a Sunday,” Lilian complained from behind me.

“I have to work, Lilian. I have to,” I replied, grabbing my bag and heading toward the door. “Besides, I am not complaining.”

Lilian followed me closely. “But I am. This is getting too much. You barely have time for us these days. You are the boss—”

“And I can take weekends off, I know,” I cut in gently but firmly. “But I like working, Lilian. That is not a bad thing. I am also setting an example for my employees.”

“At this point, I think you just want to spend time away from us, and that is fine,” she said, turning around and walking back toward her room.

I sighed, feeling the weight of the situation press harder on my chest. It was already getting out of hand. I could barely breathe without her asking me to come over every single day. I loved them, I really did, but this was becoming overwhelming.

“Lilian, that is not true,” I said quickly, following her into the room. “I love you and Greg. All I want is to make you both proud.”

She shook her head slowly. “We are already proud. All we want is for you to be present.”

“I have been here six times last week, and today is Sunday, a new week,” I argued, running a hand through my hair in frustration and exhaustion. “I do not even sleep at my house anymore. I spend almost every night here. How can I be more present than that?”

Lilian shook her head again. “It would not hurt if you stayed the whole week. Saturdays and Sundays too. And stop working on weekends. Why do you even live elsewhere? You are always outside, and it bothers me.”

“I am twenty-four years old, Lilian,” I said, my voice tightening slightly. “I am twenty-four. I can take care of myself. I need you to understand that I do not do any of this intentionally.”

Her expression softened slightly, but before she could respond, my phone rang.

I froze but picked it up.

"Anastasia Fisher."

“I am very well aware of that. You need to come to my office.”

I flinched slightly, even though I already knew exactly who it was. I double-checked the screen out of instinct anyway, even though the voice had already confirmed it. Unknown number. But unmistakable.

“I… but… today is Sunday. It is still the weekend,” I said quickly.

“You need to be here in twenty minutes,” he replied flatly before ending the call.

No room for discussion.

I exhaled slowly. To be honest, I had known I was reaching when I mentioned the weekend. It was clearly stated in the contract that I had to be available whenever he called.

Lilian was staring at me now, confusion written all over her face. “Who was that, and why do you look so pale?”

I forced a smile. “It is just a client. I need to go now, Lilian. I will call you in the evening. Please tell Greg I said hi.”

Lilian folded her arms. “A client? What kind of client calls on a Sunday? Are you—”

“I am running late,” I cut in quickly. “I will call you in the evening.”

I leaned forward and gave her a quick hug before rushing out before she could argue further.

The Roberto family owned several business structures, from companies to restaurants, schools, boutiques, jewelry stores, shopping malls, hotels, and more. I had already visited some of their restaurants and boutiques, and everything about their empire screamed control and precision.

So when he said “office,” I assumed he meant the headquarters, the main building where everything serious happened.

After parking my car, I stepped out and walked into the towering structure. The building was luxurious but strictly formal, the kind of place that made you instinctively straighten your posture. It was massive, exactly what one would expect from a billionaire empire.

I was not nervous, but I was definitely curious.

Inside, not many people paid attention to me, and I was grateful for that. Most of them were absorbed in their work, moving with quiet efficiency.

“Are you Miss Emily?” a feminine voice asked suddenly.

I jolted slightly before turning around. A petite brunette stood behind me. I nodded and offered a small smile.

She looked me up and down briefly and muttered something under her breath. I frowned slightly. I was certain I was not underdressed. I wore a black off-shoulder knee-length gown paired with white heels, polished but simple. I had originally planned to stop by my company afterward in case there was more work waiting.

“I was asked to lead you to Mr Roberto’s office,” she said. “I am his assistant secretary.”

I nodded, and she turned to lead the way.

After what felt like five long elevator rides, we finally reached the top floor.

The brunette knocked on the door, and after a few seconds, her phone rang. I assumed it was her confirmation, because she immediately opened the door afterward.

The office was large, far more formal than I had imagined. Everything inside was sleek, minimal, and expensive in a quiet, intimidating way. It was sophisticated without trying to impress anyone.

“Good day, Mr Roberto. She is here,” the brunette announced.

He did not look up immediately. His attention remained on the documents in front of him.

“Noted. You may excuse us.”

She left the room quietly, and the door clicked shut behind her.

Now it was just the two of us.

The silence inside the office felt heavy, almost oppressive. The only sound was the steady scratch of his pen against paper as he signed documents with controlled precision.

He did not offer me a seat.

So I stood.

For a long time.

Eventually, I broke the silence.

“Excuse me, sir. I can see that you are busy, but so am I. I would prefer to leave and be called back when I am actually needed,” I said calmly.

Finally, he looked up.

Our eyes met.

And for a moment, I almost forgot to breathe.

His gaze was intense, cold, and disarming. His face was as sharp and perfectly composed as ever. I suddenly felt too aware of myself, too warm under his stare, and I unconsciously adjusted my grip on my bag.

He raised a brow slightly. “I called you here for a reason.”

“But you have barely acknowledged my presence.”

“Acknowledge your presence?” he repeated flatly. “In what way? You are merely my employee.”

He returned to signing documents as if the conversation had already ended.

I tried to steady myself and stay professional. “Exactly. But you have not assigned any tasks to me since I got here. Do you need me to collect fittings or—”

“Kindly stop talking,” he cut in, looking up again.

His eyes locked onto mine. “I do not need you.”

Heat crept up my neck at his words, and I forced myself to remain composed.

“To do anything,” he added, placing his pen down and rising to his feet.

He was taller than I had initially processed, maybe six feet or more, and his presence filled the room completely. What distracted me most, however, was his build, structured and commanding in a way that made the air feel heavier.

I forced my gaze upward, focusing on his hair instead of his face.

Safer choice.

“It is clearly stated in the contract that you must be available anytime I call you.”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. I apologize for the unprofessionalism.”

“I am flying to New York,” he said, ignoring my apology completely.

I blinked. “Okay. Safe travels.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me.

“You are coming with me.”