Chloe's Pov

Week two of working for Satan's more organized brother started with him firing someone before I'd even had my morning coffee. Poor Jennifer from accounting made the mistake of bringing him a report that was apparently missing some critical detail, and I watched through his office glass as he delivered what looked like a very professional execution.

She walked past my desk five minutes later carrying a box of her personal belongings and the shell-shocked expression of someone who'd just learned that job security was a myth.

"Mr. Baldwin would like to see you," she managed to say before heading to the elevator.

Great. Day eight on the job, and I was about to get the same treatment. I grabbed my notebook and mentally prepared for unemployment.

"Ms. Rodriguez," he said without looking up when I entered his office. "Are you familiar with the Henderson acquisition?"

"Yes, sir. The real estate development deal. Jennifer was handling the preliminary research."

"Jennifer is no longer with the company. You'll be taking over her responsibilities."

I blinked. "Sir, I'm not qualified to handle acquisition research. I'm an assistant."

For the first time since I'd started working here, Alec Baldwin looked directly at me for longer than three seconds. "Are you telling me you're incapable of learning?"

"No, but—"

"Then learn." He handed me a stack of files that could have doubled as a weapon. "I need a complete analysis by Friday. Financial projections, market comparisons, risk assessments. Don't disappoint me."

Walking back to my desk with arms full of paperwork I didn't understand, I had two very clear thoughts. First: I was definitely going to disappoint him because I had no idea how to do any of this. Second: this was actually perfect for my real mission because financial documents were exactly the kind of thing Cargo needed to find weaknesses in Baldwin's empire.

I spent my lunch break in the employee break room, eating a sandwich while trying to decode financial reports that might as well have been written in ancient Greek. Everything was numbers and percentages and terms I'd never heard before.

"You look lost."

I turned around to find Marcus Chen, one of the junior executives, standing behind me with a sympathetic expression and a very fancy-looking salad.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You have that same look everyone gets when Baldwin dumps Jennifer's work on them." He sat down across from me. "He does this every few months. Fires someone suddenly and redistributes their responsibilities to whoever's closest."

"Has anyone ever actually succeeded at Jennifer's job?"

"Define succeed. If you mean 'completed the work without getting fired,' then yes, occasionally. If you mean 'completed the work without having a nervous breakdown,' then no, never."

Marcus turned out to be surprisingly helpful for someone who probably made more money than I'd ever seen. He spent the next hour explaining basic financial analysis like I was a particularly slow kindergartener, which wasn't far from the truth.

"The key is understanding what Baldwin actually wants versus what he says he wants," Marcus explained. "He says he wants comprehensive analysis, but what he really wants is for you to confirm his instincts are correct."

"So I should just tell him what he wants to hear?"

"God, no. He'll destroy you if he thinks you're just agreeing with him. He wants you to do the work, reach the same conclusions he's already reached, and present it like it was your idea."

"That sounds incredibly complicated and slightly insane."

"Welcome to working for Alec Baldwin."

That evening, I took the files home to Cargo's house and spread them across the dining room table like I was planning a military campaign. Which, in a way, I was.

Cargo found me there at midnight, surrounded by papers and empty coffee cups, trying to make sense of profit margins and market projections.

"Learning anything interesting?" he asked.

"I'm learning that your revenge plan might take longer than expected because I'm apparently terrible at corporate espionage."

He picked up one of the reports and scanned it with the kind of focus that reminded me he hadn't gotten where he was by being stupid. "This is good information. Baldwin's overextended on three major projects, and the Henderson deal is riskier than his public statements suggest."

"Is that useful?"

"Everything is useful if you know how to apply it." He sat down across from me, looking more like a business consultant than a crime boss. "Tell me about Baldwin himself. How does he treat you?"

"Like I'm a piece of office equipment that occasionally malfunctions."

"Interesting. Previous reports suggested he was charming with female staff."

"Maybe I'm not his type." I rubbed my eyes, which felt like they were full of sand after staring at financial documents for six hours. "Or maybe he saves the charm for people he doesn't consider beneath him."

"Keep observing. Men like Baldwin reveal themselves in small moments when they think no one important is watching."

*****

The next morning, I walked into the office with a financial analysis that had taken me all night to complete and approximately seventeen cups of coffee to understand. I'd cross-referenced market data, calculated risk assessments, and somehow managed to reach conclusions that I hoped made sense to people who actually knew what they were doing.

Baldwin was already in his office when I arrived, which meant he'd probably been there since dawn. The man was either incredibly dedicated or had no life outside of work. Possibly both.

"The Henderson report," I said, setting it on his desk with what I hoped looked like confidence.

He didn't acknowledge me, just picked up the report and started reading. I stood there for what felt like an hour but was probably only a few minutes, watching his expression for any clue about whether I'd just handed him professional-quality work or elaborate nonsense.

"Sit down," he said without looking up.

I sat in the chair across from his desk, trying not to fidget while he read through pages of analysis that represented everything I'd learned about corporate finance in the past seventy-two hours.

"You disagree with the acquisition," he said finally.

"The numbers suggest it's riskier than the projected returns justify," I said carefully. "But I could be wrong."

He looked at me then, really looked, like he was seeing me for the first time instead of just registering my presence as a necessary inconvenience.

"Walk me through your reasoning."

For the next twenty minutes, I explained my analysis while he asked questions that made it very clear he already knew everything I'd spent all night learning. But instead of making me feel stupid, his questions helped me understand my own conclusions better.

"The Henderson property is overvalued by approximately fifteen percent," I said, gaining confidence as I talked. "The projected development costs don't account for the environmental issues that came up in last year's feasibility study, and the market research assumes continued growth in a sector that's been declining for six months."

"And you gathered all this from Jennifer's files?"

"Jennifer's files and about eight hours of additional research."

Something shifted in his expression, so briefly I almost missed it. It might have been surprise, or approval, or maybe just indigestion from whatever he'd eaten for breakfast.

"Cancel the Henderson deal," he said.

"Sir?"

"Send my regrets to their legal team. Tell them we're pursuing other opportunities."

I stared at him. "You're canceling a twelve-million-dollar acquisition based on my report?"

"I'm canceling a twelve-million-dollar mistake based on competent analysis." He went back to his other papers, dismissing me. "Good work, Ms. Rodriguez."

Walking back to my desk, I felt like I'd just survived something that should have killed me. Not only had I not gotten fired, but Alec Baldwin had actually taken my advice and cancelled a major deal.

I called Cargo during my lunch break to report this development.

"He listened to you?"

"More than that. He acted on what I told him."

"Interesting. That's not Baldwin's usual pattern with new staff."

"Maybe I'm just naturally gifted at corporate analysis."

"Or maybe he's starting to trust you."

The thought made my stomach twist in ways I didn't want to examine too closely. Trust was supposed to be the weapon I used against him, not something that made me feel guilty.

"What's phase three?" I asked.

"Phase three is you getting closer to his personal life. The business information is useful, but what we really need is leverage. Personal leverage."

"Like what?"

"Like anything he cares about enough to protect."

****

That afternoon, Baldwin's schedule changed six times, and somehow I managed to keep up with each revision without having a breakdown. When five o'clock came around, most of the office emptied out, but Baldwin's lights stayed on.

I was packing up my things when I heard his office phone ring. Then I heard something I didn't expect: him laughing. Not the polite, professional laugh people use in business meetings, but actual laughter, like someone had said something genuinely funny.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself lingering by my desk, pretending to organize files while listening to half of what sounded like a personal conversation.

"No, you can't adopt another stray," he was saying, still sounding amused. "Your apartment already looks like a zoo."

A pause, before he continued.

"Because I'm not bringing dog food to our next dinner. People will talk."

Another pause, and then that laugh again.

"Fine. But when your neighbors start complaining about the barking, don't call me."

When he hung up, I quickly grabbed my bag and headed for the elevator, but I couldn't stop thinking about that conversation. Alec Baldwin, the man who treated his employees like disposable office supplies, had just spent ten minutes good-naturedly arguing with someone about adopting stray animals.

It was the first crack I'd seen in his armor, and I wasn't sure if that was good news or bad news for my mission.

Riding the bus home, I stared out the window at the city lights and tried to reconcile the cold, demanding boss I'd been working for with the man who'd sounded genuinely happy talking about someone's pet adoption problems.

Maybe everyone had different sides to their personality. Maybe even billionaire CEOs who killed innocent people and drove away had moments where they seemed almost human.

The thought should have made my job easier. Finding his human side should have helped me figure out how to destroy him.

Instead, it just made everything more complicated.

Because the last thing I needed was to start thinking of Alec Baldwin as a real person instead of the monster who'd taken Danny away from me.

But monsters didn't laugh about stray dogs, and they definitely didn't trust their assistants with twelve-million-dollar decisions after knowing them within just a little while.

Which left me with a very uncomfortable question; what exactly was I getting myself into.