CHAPTER THREE -- My boss is a gigolo

Lexi

The early morning sun rays woke me up first before my alarm.

I slowly say up.and.yiened of my alarm, feeling weird and sore. I looked down and was surprised that I was completely naked.

What happened last night?

I groaned.

The memories came back before I could finish thinking about it.

“Shit, I fucked him,” I frowned…

Flashbacks of me coming in multiple ways assaulted my mind.

Rhea was going to have a field day when she discovered I slept with her hired Valentine.

Which reminded me, where the hell was he?

I hoped to fuck he was gone…

I checked the alarm on my nightstand and it was almost 7:30.

Shit, I had to get to work as fast as possible.

I couldn't afford to be late. It was my first day.

Sort of, I still had to be approved by my boss but the interviewer had assured me I already had the job.

I hoped to God I did. I needed the job. I couldn't keep on depending on my friends.

They didn't mind but I did.

I had student loans to take care of too.

I made my way to the bathroom and came out five minutes later and began to dress up.

I was ready in ten minutes.

As I left my apartment, my phone rang and I picked up the call.

“Hello, is this Ms Cameron?”

“Yes, it is.”

“This is Whitewood inc. we are calling on behalf of the boss. You were supposed to resume work today but you fought had been booked, you'll be joining the boss and his secretary in LA. It will be your first assignment. His schedule has been sent to your email. Be in the office before 9am. You will be joining before 10am.’

“But that wasn't our agreement. I can't just go…”

“I know but do you want the job or not?”

“I want the job,”

“Alright then. The boss expects your presence and don't worry, you'll be compensated. His assistant didn't arrive today. She was supposed to finally quit next week but she is in the hospital and since you are already hired… I'm so sorry for the inconvenience,”

I didn't have to listen to anymore of that.

If I was going to be compensated, I might as well go.

The pay was high after all.

I jumped on a cab and drove down to the building. I arrived at exactly 8:24

****

“Hello,” I siad, walking out of the elevator and towards the receptionist 

“Lexi Cameron, right?”

She asked and I nodded.

“Yes,”

“Here are your details for the flight. The boss’s driver will be here in a minute.”

She smiled at me.

“Uh, thanks… I'm not getting kidnapped am I ?” I blurted out, feeling a little weird that my first day on the job was travelling with the boss I had never met.

She gave me a weird look and then chuckled.

“No,”

Her phone suddenly rang, she picked it up. Nodded at something the person on the other line said before hanging up.

“Your ride is here. Good luck on your first day,” she grinned and I made my way downstairs again.

The driver was standing outside the car, waiting for me.

“Are you the driver?” I asked and nodded.

I stepped into the sleek black car, still trying to piece together the whirlwind of my morning. The driver, a middle-aged man with kind eyes and a professional demeanor, greeted me politely before holding the door open.

"Ms. Cameron, right?" he asked.

I nodded, sinking into the plush leather seat.

The drive to the airport was a blur. I stared out the window, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut. Traveling with my boss on day one? This had to be some kind of initiation—or maybe a test to see if I would fail or I was being abducted. Either way, none of this felt particularly right.

How was I supposed to help him as a personal assistant when I had just gotten his schedule.

The driver pulled up to a private terminal at the airport, and my stomach did a flip. Private flights weren’t exactly in my realm of experience.

“Good luck, ma’am,” the driver said as he opened the door for me.

“Thanks,” I muttered, stepping out and clutching my small carry-on bag like a lifeline.

A flight attendant was waiting at the entrance to the jet, her smile professional but welcoming.

"Ms. Cameron, right this way," she said, gesturing for me to board.

The jet was a small but luxurious aircraft, the kind you only saw in movies. Leather seats, polished wood panels, and soft lighting made the interior look like a floating palace.

I found my seat and settled in, glancing around nervously. Thankfully, the boss wasn’t on board yet. The flight attendant handed me a drink, and before I knew it, the engines roared to life.

The two-hour flight to LA felt oddly calm. I spent most of the time mentally preparing myself for whatever lay ahead.

When we landed, a car was already waiting for me on the tarmac. The driver didn’t say much, but the ride to the hotel gave me enough time to rehearse my introduction and go through the Boss schedule.

His name was Mr. Whitewood. I had no idea what he looked like yet but I assumed some greying old man in his 50’s.

They were the only ones audacious to request for ridiculous situations like this.

The hotel was extravagant—towering glass windows and a marble entrance that screamed wealth. A concierge greeted me at the door and directed me to the penthouse suite, where the boss was apparently waiting.

My heart raced as I stepped out of the elevator and into the suite. It was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the LA skyline.

I stood, waiting for the boss, fidgeting a little bit.

I quickly took out my phone and sent my location to my friend group chat. Incase I was about to be sold as a slave or something.

Just as I sent the message, I heard footsteps walking towards me, I quickly took in several deep breaths and turned around to greet my boss when I froze in place.

Standing just three feet away from me was Richard, the Valentind gigolo I had slept with last night.

“Richard? What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Lexi?” His eyes widend, just as surprised as I was.

“Do you work here too?” I asked and he shook his head. 

“Well, sort of.”

“You quit your gigolo job?” I asked again, still nervous about meeting my boss.

“

Not exactly. There's a misunderstanding here. I am your boss. I'm Mr Whitewood. I am your boss,”

My jaw went slack.

“Excuse me?”