CHAPTER 4

Atticus repeatedly checked Phoenix’s address on the calling card while riding the elevator to the top floor of the Buena Building. According to the card, Mr. Everette’s penthouse was on the highest level.

This man is that rich, she thought.

She took a deep breath and adjusted her clothes. She needed to look presentable in front of Mr. Everette. Since she was applying to be his assistant, she had to make a good impression to ensure she wouldn’t lose the opportunity.

“I’ll do my best,” she muttered to herself.

When the elevator doors opened to her destination, she stepped out. She couldn’t possibly get lost—there was only one door on the floor, marked with “Everette.” She knocked, and within seconds, the door opened. Phoenix Everette greeted her, shirtless, wearing only jeans, while drying his damp hair with a towel and leaning slightly on his cane.

“Come in,” Phoenix said.

Atticus’s lips parted slightly as her gaze dropped to the man’s stomach. Butterflies seemed to flutter wildly in her gut at the sight of Phoenix’s toned abs. The fresh scent of his shower teased her senses, stirring something deep within her. With Phoenix preoccupied with drying his hair, Atticus took a moment to admire his broad chest and the defined muscles leading to his abs.

She cleared her throat. “Good morning.”

Phoenix paused and looked up at her, clearly surprised. “Atticus.” He slung the towel around his neck. “You’re early.”

Atticus smiled. “I thought you might change your mind if I was late.”

Phoenix nodded and stepped back, allowing her to enter the penthouse.

“Nice house,” Atticus remarked as she took in the living room.

“Thanks,” Phoenix replied flatly. “Do you have any clothes with you?”

Atticus gestured to the backpack slung over her shoulder. “I packed for the whole week, excluding Saturday and Sunday.”

“Good.” Phoenix pointed to a door near the kitchen. “That’ll be your room. Mine is upstairs. You’re not allowed up there. If you need something while I’m upstairs, use the intercom.” He indicated a machine by the kitchen entrance.

“If you ever go upstairs when I’m not there, you’re fired. Understood?”

Atticus quickly nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

Phoenix pointed toward the kitchen. “That’s the kitchen. It’s fully stocked with food and appliances. The laundry room is to the right of the door, and the common bathroom is to the left. There’s no TV in your room, so if you want to watch, use the one in the living room.”

“Got it, Sir,” Atticus said, nodding.

Phoenix studied her intently before sighing. “You’re my PA and housekeeper. I only need a PA for out-of-the-country trips. Most of the time, you’ll be helping around the house. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Phoenix headed toward the stairs, his cane tapping rhythmically with each step. “And don’t call me Sir. Call me Phoenix,” he said over his shoulder.

“Yes, Sir—Phoenix,” Atticus corrected herself.

She bit her lip as Phoenix disappeared upstairs. Phoenix. The name felt familiar on her lips as if she had said it many times before, though she couldn’t recall when or why.

Shaking her head, she took a deep breath. She was here to work, not to get lost in strange thoughts. Rolling up her sleeves, she began her duties as Phoenix’s PA slash housekeeper.

In the kitchen, Atticus reheated coffee in the coffee pot. Then she took two slices of Hotdog and fried egg from the fridge and fried them while placing some sliced bread in the toaster. Once the Hotdog and fried egg were fried and the toast was ready, she removed the casing from the Hotdog and fried egg and used it as a filling for the toasted bread, making a sandwich.

She placed the Hotdog and fried egg sandwich on a plate, poured a cup of steaming coffee, and set it beside the sandwich on the table. She also poured a glass of cold water and placed it next to the coffee.

“Done,” she murmured, blinking at the meal. She had no idea why she’d made a Hotdog and fried egg sandwich, but it felt natural as if she’d done it before. Something told her Phoenix would like it.

“Atticus, what’s—” Phoenix entered the kitchen, his cane tapping lightly on the floor, and froze, staring at the Hotdog and fried egg sandwich like he’d seen a ghost. “What is that?”

“Hotdog and fried egg sandwich,” Atticus replied.

“I know what it is!” Phoenix snapped, irritation evident on his handsome face. “I’m asking why you made it.”

“It’s supposed to be your breakfast, Sir—uh, Phoenix,” Atticus said, lowering her gaze, afraid of being scolded. “I just thought you might like it.”

There was a long silence before Phoenix spoke again.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Atticus lifted her head. “Yes?”

“Eat what you made. I’m not hungry,” Phoenix said.

Atticus felt her heart sink, and it showed on her face. She nodded and looked down, trying to hide her disappointment. “I’m sorry,” she murmured in a soft voice. “I thought you might like it.”

Phoenix let out a heavy sigh and cursed under his breath. Then, to Atticus’s surprise, he stepped closer, sat down, and took a bite of the sandwich. He washed it down with the coffee and emptied the glass of water before looking at her.

“Done. Happy now?”

Atticus beamed. “Thank you for eating it.”

Phoenix frowned, stood up, and left the kitchen. Atticus quickly followed him.

“Are you going out, Phoenix?” she asked, noting the way Phoenix used his cane as he moved.

“Yes. I’m going to see Ly.” Phoenix pulled a phone from his pocket and handed it to Atticus. “That’s my phone. I reformatted it and put in a new SIM card. My number is the only one saved there. Don’t add any other numbers because it’s not yours. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Atticus replied instinctively.

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. “What did I just tell you earlier?”

“To call you by your name,” Atticus said.

“Well?”

“Phoenix,” she corrected herself.

Phoenix nodded, his expression unreadable. Atticus wasn’t sure if he was pleased or indifferent, but she felt a small flicker of pride nonetheless.