The Weight of Us: A Billionaire Romance Story

I wasn't supposed to be here- hell, even the job offer said so, but I was down for anything. Sterling Capital Group was a company that commanded respect from everyone in New York City. It was not just any company, it was a powerhouse, one that could make or destroy careers. I could not sleep on such an offer. I had waited for this day all summer and I couldn't believe I finally got a call back from a company of such caliber. I realized that the little proceedings from my family business could no longer cut it for me.

I arrived at the company at 7:30. The interview was scheduled for 8:00, so I was right on time. The company building screamed luxury. It was the definition of first class, its roof touching the skies. From just looking, you could tell it had more than 25 floors. Honestly speaking, it was the biggest building I had ever seen.

I showed up in my best clothes- or so I thought. My cheap heels, my scruffy button-up top, and my thrifted pants stood nothing close to the outfits I saw there. These people were looking for jobs just like me, but one could tell that they were polished corporate elites. That was enough to make me lose my confidence and go home, but I had so much on the line.

There was a long line filled with my fellow applicants waiting for their turns. I was starting to wish I had at least taken breakfast before stepping out of my house. The sterile office space, paired with the freezing air conditioning, only made my exhaustion worse. The plain and boring aesthetic that came with the work environment and the cold atmosphere made me so tired and hungry.

I'm pretty sure I yawned so many times to the point where I disgusted the people around me. My top had sleeves but it didn't make any effort to keep me from the cold. So much for a corporate top. I kept rubbing my palms against each other to create some form of friction. The line was moving at such a slow pace and I was getting even more tired. Maybe if I got some shut-eye till it was my turn, I'd be a bit more active. As soon as I tried to close my eyes I was jolted by someone calling my name up front.

"N. Sinclair!" the voice called out. I was confused as to why I was getting called out amid all the other applicants in front of me, but I answered as quickly as I could, moving to the room where the interview was taking place, not minding the heads that turned as I walked by. As I walked towards the room, I noticed the interviewer's brows furrowed. He looked confused but he still let me in.

The office was a sleek, intimidating space, even more tense than the waiting room. A stern-looking interviewer, Mr. Harrington, sat behind a glass desk, flipping through a file as I stepped in.

"Take a seat, Ms. Sinclair

"Thank you, sir," I replied

Mr. Harrington, now frantically flipping through the files, asked, "You're... Nora Sinclair?"

" Yes, sir."

"You're not what I expected." He said rather condescendingly.

My heart began to pound. "Excuse me, sir, what do you mean?"

"Your background. Your résumé. This-doesn't quite align with what we were looking for."

"Well, I may not have the traditional background, but I can assure you I'm hardworking, quick to learn, and-"

"You weren't even on the final shortlist. This job was open for Natalie Sinclair, not you, Nora. "

I began blinking in disbelief and my stomach dropped. "What?"

"There seems to have been a clerical error. You weren't supposed to be called in."

I was gripping my chair, holding on to it like I was holding on to this offer, I couldn't just let it go. "But... I got an email. A confirmation."

"Yes, a mistake on our part. I apologize for the inconvenience, but-"

"I believe I am qualified for this job. Please just let me try. Give me an ultimatum; I'll do anything. I know I can."

Mr. Harrington, now invested in my determination decided to take his chances. " Prove it," he said.

"There's an issue inside these files," he said, throwing a random file in front of me. "I want to you find out what it is and give me a solution"

My fingers tighten around the file as I scan the numbers. It's overwhelming-percentages, market trends, financial projections-all things I was never formally trained in. But I've always been good at reading between the lines, spotting patterns where others don't.

I take a slow breath, forcing myself to focus. If I panic, I'm done for. Instead, I look for the basics-what industry is this? What's the main risk factor? What's the potential gain?

" Okay... a tech startup. Recently secured a round of funding... projected growth looks solid, but..."

I finally figured it out.

"This investment looks promising at first glance. Strong projections, a growing market-but the lawsuit changes everything. If they lose, it could wipe out their profits for years. If I were an investor, I'd walk away or renegotiate for better terms before committing."

Silence.

Mr. Harrington's brow lifts slightly. He leans forward, glancing down at the file as if seeing it differently.

"And how did you reach that conclusion?"

"The numbers looked good-too good. I figured something had to be off. So I checked for red flags."

Mr. Harrington taps a finger against the desk, considering me. Then, after a long pause, he nods.

"Not bad, Sinclair. Not bad at all."

I exhale, the tension draining from her shoulders. I did it. I actually did it.

I was still gripping the chair, my pulse hammering as I watched Mr. Harrington press his lips together. He looked like he was weighing his options, torn between dismissing me outright and... whatever the alternative was. The silence stretched, thick with hesitation.

Then the door swung open.

A voice, smooth and sharp as a blade, cut through the room.

"Is there a reason this interview is still happening?"

I turned instinctively-and felt my breath hitch.

Standing in the doorway was Adrian Sterling.

I knew who he was before Mr. Harrington even straightened in his seat. Everyone in this city knew him. He was the man behind Sterling Capital Group, a billionaire before thirty-five, a ghost in the media but a legend in the corporate world. And now he was here, in the flesh, looking at me like I was a problem that needed to be erased.

Mr. Harrington scrambled to explain. "Mr. Sterling, I-there was a clerical mix-up. This candidate wasn't supposed to be called in, but she insisted on taking the assessment, and-"

"And you entertained it?" His tone was flat, unimpressed. He hadn't even looked at me properly, yet I could already hear the dismissal in his voice.

I clenched my fists under the table, irritation burning through my earlier nervousness. Who did he think he was? No-scratch that. I knew who he was. But that didn't mean I'd sit here and let him act like I was wasting his precious time.

Mr. Harrington cleared his throat. "She performed... unexpectedly well."

Finally, Adrian's gaze slid to me. His eyes were dark, unreadable, studying me like I was some anomaly he couldn't quite place. He took a slow step forward, his presence filling the room in a way that made the air feel heavier.

"What's your name?"

I lifted my chin. "Nora Sinclair."

Something flickered across his face at that-recognition? No, it was gone too fast.

"You do realize you weren't meant to be here?"

I folded my arms, refusing to shrink under his scrutiny. "I realize there was a mistake. But I also just proved that I'm not a waste of your time."

I thought I caught the faintest trace of amusement in his expression, but if it was there, he buried it just as quickly. He turned to Mr. Harrington.

"What position was she mistakenly called in for?"

Mr. Harrington hesitated. "Personal Secretary".

I stiffened. Secretary? That wasn't what I had in mind at all. I thought I was applying for something more analytical, something where I could actually use my skills. But before I could voice my frustration, Adrian spoke again.

"If she wants the job, she can have it."

I blinked. What?

Even Mr. Harrington seemed thrown. "Sir?"

Adrian's gaze returned to me, assessing. "She found the flaw in the investment file faster than some of our analysts. That's worth something."

I should have felt victorious. I got the job. But something about the way he said it-like I was just a minor curiosity, not actually qualified-set my teeth on edge.

I straightened in my chair, meeting his gaze head-on. "I won't be fetching coffee."

Adrian tilted his head slightly like he found my defiance mildly entertaining. "That depends on how useful you make yourself."

My jaw tightened, but I said nothing.

I'd take the job.

And I'd prove him wrong.

Adrian's POV

I don't hire assistants to challenge me. I hire them to get the job done, no questions asked.

So why is Nora Sinclair already questioning me on her first day?

I stare at the schedule she's put together, noting the two-hour gap she left open. "This isn't what I asked for."

She stands in front of my desk, arms stiff at her sides. "You have meetings back-to-back all day. I figured you'd want a break before your dinner appointment."

I set the tablet down, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I don't need you to figure anything, Ms. Sinclair. I need you to do what I ask."

Her jaw tightens. "Right. But if you collapse from exhaustion, I doubt that'll be very productive either."

I lift my eyes to hers, expecting the usual nervous backtracking. But she doesn't backtrack. She holds my gaze, steady and stubborn. Interesting.

For a moment, I don't say anything. She's not entirely wrong.

"Make it a one-hour break," I finally say. "Move the Calloway briefing up."

Her lips part slightly like she wasn't expecting me to listen. "Okay," she says after a beat. "I'll adjust the schedule."

She turns to leave, and I find myself watching her go, admiring every inch of her.

Strange.

The day drags on, filled with reports, negotiations, and too many voices demanding my attention. Still, I notice every time Nora moves around the office.

By afternoon, I find her frowning at her screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. I recognize the spreadsheet she's struggling with before I even get close.

I shouldn't bother. But somehow, I do.

I walk over, leaning down beside her, getting a whiff of her curly hair. "Your formula is wrong."

She stiffens but doesn't look at me. "I know. I'm fixing it."

I could let her figure it out. I don't. Instead, I reach over and adjust the formula myself, fingers brushing hers in the process. I freeze and she does the same. The contact is brief, barely noticeable, but she sucks in a breath.

"There," I say, voice quieter than before. "Next time, check the formatting."

She stays still, eyes locked on the screen. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer. "Got it."

I nod and walk away before I think too much about it.

By the time night falls, I'm buried in work when my phone rings. I don't have to look to know who it is.

I answer. "Father."

"Adrian." His tone is calm, collected. "I trust everything is running smoothly?"

"As always."

"Good. We can't afford any distractions." A pause. Then, "Including your new assistant."

"You think I care? She won't last a month."

I exhale slowly. "She's nothing. Just another hire.I don't have time to entertain some charity case."

His chuckle is low and knowing. "Let's hope she's more competent than your last... mistake."

I grip the phone tighter. "Don't."

"You're still letting the past affect you," he continues, as if I haven't heard this speech a hundred times before. "I trust you won't make the same error twice."

I say nothing.

Then, just as I think the conversation is over, he delivers the final blow.

"Vivienne is back in town."

My entire body goes rigid.

"She'll be at the Sterling Gala next week," he adds, voice laced with satisfaction. "I expect you to be there."

The call ends, but I don't move.

Vivienne.

The name alone makes my stomach twist.

I push the thought away and rub a hand over my face, exhaling slowly.

Then, from the hallway, I hear a small shift in movement.

I turn toward the door.

It's cracked open. Just slightly.

A strange feeling creeps in. Did someone hear that conversation?

I step closer, but when I look outside, the hall is empty.

Still, unease lingers.

I shut the door and lean against it for a second, staring at the ceiling.

Vivienne is back.

And if history has taught me anything, that can only mean trouble.

My hands curl into fists as I pace the length of the office, my heels sinking slightly into the plush carpet. I know I shouldn't let this get to me-I shouldn't care what Adrian Sterling thinks of me. But the words I overheard last night refuse to leave my head.

"I don't have time to entertain some charity case."

The cold dismissal in his voice had sent a sharp sting through my chest. I had only gone to grab a report from his office when I heard him speaking on the phone. I hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but when I heard my own name-when I heard that-I couldn't walk away.

"You think I care? She won't last a month."

I stop pacing and press my lips together to keep the bitterness from spilling out. The arrogance. The sheer audacity of him.

I clench my jaw. Fine. If that's how he sees me, let's see how much he enjoys my company now.

The door swings open, and Adrian strides in, looking effortlessly composed in his dark suit. His sharp gaze flicks to me, registering my presence, but I don't give him a chance to speak.

"You're an arrogant ass," I snap.

He raises an eyebrow. "Good morning to you too."

"Don't." I take a step forward, my voice low and sharp. "I heard you last night. I heard what you said about me."

Adrian sighs as he sets his briefcase down. "You were eavesdropping?"

"That's what you're focusing on?" I let out a humorless laugh. "You called me a charity case. You said I wouldn't last a month."

His expression darkens, but he doesn't apologize. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

My blood boils. "Oh, so it's fine to talk about me like that, as long as I don't hear it?"

The door swings open again before he can respond, and the air shifts.

Vivienne Laurent walks in like she owns the place, her black dress hugging her curves perfectly. Everything about her is polished-glossy hair, flawless makeup, the quiet kind of confidence that comes from knowing you belong.

My stomach knots, but I keep my expression blank.

"Adrian," she purrs, ignoring me completely. She walks up to him and places a hand on his chest, her manicured nails resting there like she has every right. "Miss me?"

And then, like I don't even exist, she kisses him.

I go still, forcing my hands to remain at my sides. The rational part of me knows I shouldn't care-Adrian and I aren't anything. But that doesn't stop the small, sharp sting in my chest as she presses her lips to his.

He doesn't kiss her back.

When she pulls away, his expression is a mixture of irritation and something else-something unreadable. His gaze flicks to me for half a second before he looks back at her.

"That was unnecessary," he says coolly.

Vivienne pouts. "Oh, don't be so grumpy." And then, as if just noticing me for the first time, she turns.

Her eyes drag over me slowly, like she's taking me in for the first time, before she tilts her head with a small, knowing smirk.

"Oh, darling," she says, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. "I didn't know you hired help from charity."

Silence.

I feel the words like a slap, but I refuse to flinch. I know exactly what she wants-to see me shrink, to see me fumble for an excuse to leave.

I give her nothing.

Instead, I let a slow smile spread across my lips. "That's funny," I say smoothly. "Because I didn't know desperate exes made house calls."

Vivienne's smirk falters.

The tension in the room thickens. Adrian exhales sharply, almost like he's trying to suppress something.

Amusement?

I keep my gaze locked on Vivienne, unbothered. "You're still here?" I ask, feigning boredom. "That's surprising. I thought you'd be busy trying to gold-dig someone who actually wants you."

Her face darkens.

Adrian stays silent, but I catch something flicker across his face. His gaze sharpens as he watches me, his expression unreadable.

And then-for just a second-I see it.

Admiration.

I don't stick around to analyze it. Without another word, I turn on my heel and walk out, head high.

I am not a charity case.

And if Adrian Sterling wants me gone in a month, I'll make damn sure he regrets every second of it.