Chapter 2 HE'S SO HANDSOME!!

THE DEVIL BILLIONAIRE PERSONAL ASSISTANT

Chapter 1

(Life takes turn)

WD FINANCIAL GROUP INC

Monday morning, 8:00 AM

Emily walked into the bustling lobby of WD Financial Group, her polished heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. The sound cut through the low hum of early morning activity, drawing a few glances from the receptionists and early-bird employees. She moved with quiet confidence, her posture erect and eyes focused on the elevators at the far end of the expansive lobby.

The sleek, minimalist décor and large abstract art pieces filled the space, but today, her mind was preoccupied. She couldn't stop replaying the unsettling conversation with Mrs. Williams and the brief, yet impactful, encounter with Oliver.

Reaching the elevator bank, Emily pressed the button for the third floor. The doors slid open almost immediately, as if anticipating her arrival. She stepped inside and pressed the button again. The doors began to close with a familiar, soft whirring sound.

Suddenly, a brightly colored tote bag wedged itself between the closing doors, halting their progress with a soft thud. "That was close," a breathless voice called out.

A young woman with fiery red hair and freckles across her nose entered the elevator, clutching the bag to her chest. "Phew! Wouldn't want to be late on a Monday," she added, pressing the button for the third floor again.

"Yes, yes, it was," Emily replied, offering a polite smile. "Morning, Joyce. How was your weekend?"

"Fine, well... you know," Joyce replied, her energy undimmed. "Just at home, mostly. Caught up on reading, tried a new recipe that was a spectacular failure, the usual."

Emily chuckled lightly. "What were you trying to make?"

"A lemon drizzle cake," Joyce groaned. "It ended up more like a lemon drizzle... puddle. The bottom was burnt, and the top was still liquid. A culinary disaster of epic proportions."

"Well, at least you tried. Sometimes those things happen," Emily said, smiling faintly.

Joyce's eyes lit up again. "But hey, this week has to be better, right? Fresh start, new goals, the whole shebang!"

"Speak for yourself," Emily murmured under her breath as the elevator doors opened onto the third floor.

The atmosphere of the marketing and sales department greeted them with a cacophony of ringing phones, chattering voices, and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards.

"You seem a bit... preoccupied, Emily," Joyce observed.

Emily hesitated for a moment. She hadn't shared her conversation with Mrs. Williams with anyone yet. "I... had a rather unexpected conversation on Friday," she said vaguely, stepping out of the elevator.

"Oh? Good unexpected or bad unexpected?" Joyce asked.

"Complicated unexpected," Emily replied, offering a small smile. "I'll tell you about it sometime."

She made her way towards the finance division, settling at her desk-her space a model of orderliness, in stark contrast to the chaos of the sales floor. As she organized a few reports, her phone rang.

It was her supervisor, Mr. Davies, his voice tight with urgency. "Emily, could you come to my office for a moment?"

A knot of apprehension twisted in Emily's stomach. What could Mr. Davies need this early on a Monday morning?

She walked to his cluttered office and knocked before entering. "Emily," he began, his brow furrowed. "I received a rather unusual request on Friday afternoon."

Emily's heart skipped a beat. Was this related to Mrs. Williams?

"Mrs. Williams' office contacted me directly," Mr. Davies continued. "They requested that you be... temporarily reassigned."

"Reassigned?" Emily echoed, trying to grasp what was happening.

"Yes," Mr. Davies confirmed, shuffling some papers. "Apparently, Mrs. Williams has a... special project that requires your specific skills and... discretion."

"Discretion?" Emily's voice lowered in confusion. That word sent a shiver down her spine.

"You'll be working directly with... Mr. Oliver Williams," Mr. Davies finished, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

The name hit Emily like a jolt of electricity. Oliver Williams-the elusive, ruthless heir to the Williams Group empire.

"Mr. Oliver Williams?" she repeated, her voice betraying her shock.

Mr. Davies nodded. "Yes. Effective immediately. They've already sent over some... preliminary information. It's on your desk."

Emily could barely comprehend the gravity of what was happening. This had to be a mistake.

She was a finance manager, not someone who would work with Oliver Williams.

"What will I be doing, sir?" she asked, barely able to form the question.

"Frankly, Emily, I don't know," Mr. Davies admitted, running a hand through his thinning hair. "The request was... vague. Something about needing someone with your organizational skills and attention to detail for a... personal matter."

A personal matter? This sounded eerily similar to the personal assistant role Mrs. Williams had mentioned.

"They assured me it would be temporary," Mr. Davies added, his voice tinged with hope. "But... well, you know Mr. Williams. He operates... differently."

"I understand, Mr. Davies," Emily replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "Where exactly will I be going?"

"You'll be reporting to his residence in Beverly Hills," Mr. Davies said, avoiding her gaze. "A car will be sent for you at nine o'clock."

Nine o'clock. Less than an hour.

"Alright, sir," Emily said, standing. She grabbed her things, feeling a surge of disbelief and anxiety. This was happening faster than she could process.

She walked back to her desk and found the manila envelope with the Williams Group logo. Inside was a brief letter from Mrs. Williams, a chaotic schedule for the next few days, and a key card. The letter was warm, but the knot in Emily's stomach only tightened.

The schedule was a jumbled mess of appointments and tasks, with no clear job description. The key card was for access to Oliver Williams' mansion.

A notification popped up on her computer: "Introduction – Oliver Williams." The time: 9:00 AM. The location: Oliver Williams' Residence, Beverly Hills.

Emily took a deep breath. She was a professional. She could handle this, even if it meant stepping into the lion's den.

At 8:45 AM, she stood and grabbed her handbag.

In the lobby, Joyce was chatting with another sales rep. "Everything okay, Emily?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

"I'm fine, Joyce. Just... a new assignment," Emily said, offering a weak smile.

"Beverly Hills? Fancy! What's going on there?" Joyce asked, eyebrows raised.

"I'm... not sure yet," Emily admitted. "But I have to go. See you later."

"Good luck with whatever it is!" Joyce waved as Emily left.

Outside, a chauffeur opened the door of a sleek car. As Emily slid into the back seat, she felt a sense of déjà vu. She was heading into the unknown, to face Oliver Williams-rumored to be a heartless billionaire.

The drive felt shorter than it should have. When the car stopped at the gates of his mansion, Emily could only stare at the imposing façade. She had heard the rumors.

The chauffeur led her inside, where Eleanor, a worker in the house, greeted her. "Good morning, Miss. Mr. Williams is ready for you."

Eleanor guided Emily through the quiet house to Oliver's study. The heavy oak door seemed to radiate power. Eleanor opened it, stepping aside to let Emily enter.

Oliver stood by the window, his back to her, exuding an aura of danger and authority. The room was dimly lit, the scent of leather and cigar smoke filling the air. He turned, green eyes sharp and assessing.

"Miss Chen," he called"

Emily seems to be out of the world

"Miss Chen" he called again

The next thing she said is "HE'S SO HANDSOME "