“I didn’t expect you’d bring quite a crowd, Mr. Montemayor.” The older businessman across the table chuckled, his wrinkled face bright with amusement. Terrence, ever composed, responded with a polite yet confident smile.

“I always bring my assistants to client meetings,” he replied, his voice carrying that familiar arrogance wrapped in charm. “I prefer them to be fully aware of every detail. Keeps them from spacing out when I talk to them later.”

The old man’s gaze flickered toward me, eyes scanning with a kind of curiosity that felt more intrusive than polite. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and I had to fight the urge to look away.

“You seem to have a lot of assistants,” the man observed, still holding my gaze in a way that made my stomach twist. I didn’t like it one bit.

Terrence’s tone hardened slightly. “Warren has been with me since I started Nylerret,” he said, then gestured toward me. “And Evelyn just started today, so don’t scare her off. I don’t like replacing staff—or dealing with… inappropriate interactions with clients.”

That last line made my eyebrows shoot up.

Excuse me? Inappropriate interactions?

Did he just imply that I might flirt with this wrinkled client? Or… was he actually warning the man not to try anything funny with me?

Before I could spiral further, Terrence continued in his calm, commanding voice.

“I just got back from overseas, and you’re the first client I’m meeting personally. So let’s not waste time, Mr. Sanchez. Let’s discuss what needs to be done.”

The conversation shifted quickly into business. Mr. Sanchez began explaining what he wanted done with his company’s accounting database. To my surprise, Terrence took the lead in the discussion, outlining the technical process himself instead of leaving it to his software engineers.

He was good—too good, actually. The way he broke down complex tech jargon into something even I could understand was… impressive. I found myself listening, almost learning. And for the first time, I understood why Nylerret IT Corp. suddenly became such a big name in a span of two years.

When the meeting wrapped up, Terrence leaned back and said firmly, “Warren will send you the contract once it’s ready.”

Mr. Sanchez frowned. “Him? Not her?”

The nerve of this man. My fists tightened under the table. It took every ounce of self-control not to snap back at him.

Terrence’s voice dropped an octave, his stare cold enough to freeze the air.

“I don’t send female staff to male clients. I don’t want any trace of malice tied to my contracts. I trust you understand, Mr. Sanchez.”

Mr. Sanchez immediately laughed nervously, clearly intimidated. “Of course, of course.”

And just like that, the tone of the entire lunch shifted.

The rest of the meal went by quietly, Mr. Sanchez suddenly far too focused on his plate to even glance my way again.

As much as I hated to admit it, I was… impressed. Terrence had read the situation perfectly and acted before I could even open my mouth. He protected me without making a scene.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that he was Terrence Montemayor—the same arrogant jerk I used to despise back in school.

When the lunch finally ended and Mr. Sanchez left, I almost sighed in relief. My phone had been vibrating nonstop in my bag, probably from Casey, but I didn’t dare check it while Terrence was around.

We stood up, and once again, I found myself questioning why I was even there. I barely contributed to the meeting, aside from looking attentive and trying not to stab the client with a fork.

Inside the car, I ended up sitting beside Terrence again. Lucky me. Warren was in the passenger seat next to their driver, a calm older man they called Oscar.

The ride was quiet. I leaned back, shut my eyes, and tried to relax, though every nerve in my body screamed that Terrence’s gaze was on me.

“We’re here, Sir Terrence,” Oscar’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I opened my eyes and frowned. The car had stopped—but not at the company building.

“Where are we?” I asked, confused. Terrence got out without answering, followed by Warren.

“Oscar, where exactly is this?”

“Sir’s condo, Ma’am. They’re waiting for you upstairs.”

My head snapped toward Warren, who was now motioning for me to follow. I hurriedly stepped out.

“Wait—so am I just supposed to head back to the office after this?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No, we’re going up with Sir Terrence.”

Before I could argue, the elevator doors slid open and Terrence stepped inside. Warren gestured for me to follow. I sighed and obeyed, silently praying this wasn’t some ridiculous errand.

When we entered the condo, Terrence went straight into one of the rooms without saying a single word. My eyes darted around the space. It was modern, spacious, and cold, just like him.

Then Warren turned to me. “Evelyn, come here. I’ll show you your room.”

My brain short-circuited.

“Wait—what? My what?”

He smiled, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Your room. You’ll be staying here with Sir Terrence.”

I blinked. Once. Twice. Then my voice rose.

“Excuse me? Come again? Because I’m pretty sure I heard that wrong.”

“You’ll be living here. With him.”

My jaw dropped.

“I don’t recall being informed that I’d be moving in with my boss!” My tone was sharp enough to cut glass.

Warren, ever calm, simply said, “I did mention this during the interview, Evelyn. You said it was fine since your place is quite far from the office.”

“You said I needed to be near the CEO for convenience, not that I’d be sharing a roof with him!” My eyes widened, and I struggled to keep my voice steady.

“Exactly,” Warren said smoothly. “That’s why you’ll stay here. You’re responsible for his meals, his clothes, everything.”

I froze. Then glared. “What is he, an invalid?”

Before Warren could answer, Terrence’s voice cut through the air.

“What’s going on here?”

I turned, fuming. “Why do I have to live here?”

He ignored my question, looking instead at Warren. “I assume there’s a misunderstanding.”

Warren bowed his head slightly. “I’m sorry, Sir. I really thought she understood the arrangement. She was the most qualified applicant—highest IQ among all, actually.”

Oh, please. Was that supposed to flatter me?

Terrence’s expression didn’t change. “Then find me a new PA. Preferably male. I don’t need anyone high-maintenance.”

“Hold it right there!” I snapped, my temper finally breaking. He turned back, one brow raised, clearly amused.

“You’re saying I’m being dramatic? Tell me—what kind of sane person makes a man and a woman live under the same roof when they’re not even related?”

Terrence smirked. “I didn’t realize you saw me as a man.”

“That’s not what I meant!” I nearly exploded.

“Then what’s the problem? If you don’t like it, don’t stay. Talk to Warren for your day’s pay.”

And with that, he walked away.

I shut my eyes, fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. “Damn it!” I hissed through gritted teeth, breathing in and out a dozen times before turning to Warren, who now looked as awkward as I felt.

Being poor is hell.

I could almost laugh at the absurdity of it.

You can’t afford to quit, even when your pride’s on fire.