Signed to the Billionaire

My father always said the way to learn the job you want was to spend every second watching someone do it.

"To get the job at the top, you've got to start at the bottom," he told me. "Become the person the CEO can't live without. Be their right-hand man. Learn their world, and they'll snatch you up the second you finish your degree."

I had become irreplaceable. And I'd definitely become the Right Hand.

"Eva," Henry stood in the doorway to my office that served as an anteroom to his. His voice was firm which automatically meant that something was wrong.

"Yes?" I asked softly.

"Be in my office in ten minutes. We have to discuss something important," he told me.

With that, he left, closing the door behind him.

I nodded and turned back to my laptop.

I had been working for Archer Marketing Groups for four years. I was lucky that I got the CEO's EA job here. I loved my work as well as my boss, Henry, who was always sweet with me. Henry was in his late fifties, tall, about 6 feet, and had broad shoulders, grey hair and hazel eyes. And being in fifties didn't mean he was indolent or something. No, he wasn't. He was vigorous like a bullet. He was serious with his work all the time and didn't reconcile until he had made his deal.

And that was why I respected him and so did he.

Anyways, closing my laptop and taking my iPad with me, I stood and walked out of my cabin.

I knocked on Henry's office's door, as was expected of me, bit my lower lip. I did that whenever I was nervous and curious, and right now, I was curious because Henry always called on the landline in my cabin if he needed me. And this time he had came himself to call me.

"Come in," Henry said.

I opened the door and stepped inside. Stock tickers scrolled on one wall on dozens of different screen. There was nothing but technology and a big desk with one big chair on one side and two black leather chairs on the other. The windows had an open view of Seattle, but I couldn't absorb because I saw him.

I meant...his back.

He was busy on his phone, staring out of the big windows, taking a view. He slipped his phone back in his slacks and turned around.

Great!

Austin Angelo Archer.

Oh, let me rephrase that. Mr. Bastard.

Henry's older son.

About at least 6'4, disheveled dark hair, tanned skin, dark stubble covering his perfect square jaw, shoulders a mile-wide, silk designer deep blue suit, snowy white shirt with its collar and first button open which also gave a glimpse of his chest, and a stride to eat up the universe. He also had a small black piercing in his left ear. His eyes were glowing, alive-deep blue, like moving rivers but there was no missing the little shards of ice glinting inside.

His Lucifer smirk occupied his perfect mouth when his eyes landed on me and my throat went arid.

What the hell was he doing here?

Oh, and if you all are thinking why did I have such great thoughts about him, so, it's because I worked for him at least for a year. And that year was the worst year of my life.

He was dominant, cocky, condescending, obstinate, cranky, and above all, a bastard.

Ever heard of looks can be deceptive? That quote fitted perfectly on him. He may look handsome on the outside, but it was devil lying beneath.

"Miss Tramell," he drawled, his husky voice attacked my ears and in almost four big strides he stood in front me, extended his right hand towards me as his other hand rested in his pocket, showcasing a massive and expensive Rolex. As I slid my hand in his warm grip, covering my horror filled face with confidence, he said, "I must say, it's not nice to see you again."

His smart mouth.

"I must say the feeling is mutual, Mr. Archer," I replied with a fake smile.

A small laugh escaped his mouth as he let go of my hand.

I again heard footsteps as I saw Henry approaching me with a young man following him. He wasn't very tall as Henry and The Bastard, just about my height, his hair was dark and dripping wet, he looked like he'd just finished shooting a commercial for hair gel.

His skin was beautiful, silky and russet colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones, dressed in a black suit and pale blue shirt and a black tie. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful.

"You must be Eva," his musical voice entered into ears.

I nodded with a smile.

"Hello," he took his hand out and I slid mine in, "I'm Gavin Archer," he introduced himself.

Oh.

He was Austin's brother?

Wow.

"Mr. Archer," I nodded. "Gavin, please," he smiled.

He was just the opposite of his brother. Austin never let me call him by his first name. When I used to work for him, I called him "Austin" once because Henry always had let me call him by his first name but he had repulsed and told me, "I don't know about your past experiences, but we're not first name basis, Miss Tramell. You will refer to me as Mr. Archer, or Sir. I'll leave that decision to you."

And the fuck I was calling him Sir.

"Eva, then," I smiled back.

"Eva," he nodded and said in his raspy voice.

"Let's take a seat, everyone," Henry declared.

We seated on the big black leather couch in the corner of the room.

Henry and Gavin were seated in front of me. We were just separated by a small glass desk. Whereas Mr. Bastard was seated next to me, just few inches away.

"So," Henry started, "You've already met Austin here, and as well as Gavin, and you've worked for Austin too?"

"Yes, for a year," I stated.

"I should've never agreed to that," Mr. Bastard had to open his mouth.

"I-"

"Austin, behave," Henry growled and I passed Austin a big smile.

His jaw ticked but I was glad he kept his mouth shut.

"You've been working for us for four years and I must say that I appreciate your work, Eva," Henry said.

I was on cloud nine.

"You have never let me down and I know you never will. You are-"

"Can't we just get to the point?" Austin interrupted Henry.

That was why I loathed him.

"Yes," Henry cleared his throat, "Of course."

"The thing is, Eva," Henry continued, "I-I."

In my four years career, I had never heard Henry stammering. He was always confident no matter what. Then what was the deal?

"Henry, what is it?" I asked.

"I want you to marry my son," he dropped the bomb.

And my body went cold.

Uh...what?