Bound to the billionaire

The rain had started just as Amelia Hart stepped off the 7:40 train into Central London. Of course it had. Her umbrella was broken, her heels were borrowed, and the second-hand blazer she'd ironed to death was now damp and clinging to her like a desperate ex.

"Brilliant," she muttered, shaking out her fringe as she darted through the revolving glass doors of Langford Global's headquarters. The marble lobby sparkled beneath chandeliers so big they looked like they could crush a lesser building. A receptionist in a tailored suit gave her a once-over that made her feel like a stray cat had wandered into a luxury boutique.

Amelia clutched her bag tighter. This is fine. You're here for a temporary role. Nothing fancy. Data entry. Smile and don't sound poor.

She crossed the lobby, trying to walk like she belonged. Confidence was half the battle, right?

"Amelia Hart?" a young woman with frazzled curls and a clipboard appeared, half-jogging toward her.

"Yes!" Amelia said, relieved someone recognized her. "I'm here for the-"

"Thank God. The assistant quit this morning, and Mr. Langford has a meeting in seven minutes. Just-come with me. We'll brief you on the way."

Wait, what?

Before she could correct the woman, Amelia was swept into the lift and whisked upward at a speed that made her stomach flip. The woman was already speaking rapidly.

"You'll need to keep his schedule, field calls, prep his notes. Don't speak unless he speaks to you. He hates perfume, loud heels, and lateness. Oh, and don't ask about his father. Ever."

Amelia blinked. "I-I think there's been a mistake. I'm not actually-"

The doors opened with a soft ding, and she was shoved out into a high-glass corridor. Too late. Too fast. And suddenly, she was standing outside the lion's den.

"Mr. Langford, your new PA is here," the woman announced, rapping once on the glass door before vanishing like a magician's assistant.

The office was silent.

Then a deep, low voice replied, "Bring her in."

Oh God. Okay. This is fine. This is illegal. But it's fine.

Amelia stepped in. And there he was.

Alexander Langford.

Tall. Immaculate. Intimidating in the way only a man raised on power and old money could be. He stood behind his desk, tailored in charcoal grey, a watch glinting on his wrist that probably cost more than her mother's flat. His eyes were the color of wet steel-cool, unreadable.

He barely looked at her as he picked up a file. "You're late."

"I-yes. That's... my fault. There was a-train. And rain." She was rambling. Stop rambling.

He finally looked up.

Something flickered across his expression not quite surprise, but something close to curiosity. Then it was gone.

"Do you know how to prepare a briefing for a merger meeting?"

"Absolutely," she lied smoothly. "It's my... specialty."

A pause. He clearly didn't believe her. But he didn't stop her either.

"Conference room. Now. Bring this." He handed her a tablet and walked past her, not even waiting to see if she followed.

Amelia stood frozen for a second, heart hammering, then forced herself to move. The tablet was heavier than it looked. So was the lie she'd just stepped into.

The next two hours were a blur of fast talking, faster walking, and sheer improvisation. Amelia took notes at lightning speed, Googled acronyms under the table, and smiled like she wasn't seconds away from cardiac arrest.

She didn't know what she was doing. But apparently, neither did anyone else.

By the time they returned to his office, her blouse was sticking to her back and her nerves were frayed to threads. Alexander sat down and finally gave her a proper look.

"You're not the assistant they sent last time."

"No," she said carefully. "She... couldn't make it."

"Yet you showed up in her place."

"I suppose I did."

Another pause. His expression didn't soften, but something behind his eyes shifted slightly. Intrigue? Amusement?

"You've got nerve," he said.

She swallowed. "Would you fire me for that?"

"I haven't hired you."

"Well, you haven't told me to leave either."

He leaned back in his chair, studying her like she was a puzzle he hadn't decided whether to solve or discard.

"Come back tomorrow," he said finally.

Her breath hitched. "Really?"

"Seven sharp. Don't lie again."

Amelia nodded quickly, backing toward the door. "Thank you, Mr. Langford."

"Alexander."

She blinked. "Sorry?"

"That's my name. You should learn it, Miss...?"

"Hart. Amelia Hart."

He gave a small, unreadable smile.

"Let's see how long you last, Miss Hart."

Outside, the rain had stopped, but the clouds still hung low over London's skyline. Amelia stood on the pavement, her heart racing.

She'd lied her way into a job she had no qualifications for, at the desk of a man who could ruin her with a single sentence.

But he hadn't.

Instead, he'd told her to come back.

And God help her, she was going to.