Charlie had barely caught her breath after her morning fiasco at Hartwell Industries when her phone buzzed again. Blair, ever the self-appointed chaos commentator, had sent a text:
"Reminder: surviving Alexander Hartwell = optional. Looking fabulous while doing it = mandatory."
Charlie rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. Blair had a way of making impending doom sound almost like a pep talk. Almost.
But if Charlie thought the morning had been chaotic, she hadn't yet met the true source: her family. The Montroses were a hurricane in human form, and somehow she had been born right in the eye. Her father, a former underground poker kingpin with a penchant for dramatic entrances, was currently on a European "business trip," which translated loosely to sipping champagne in Monaco while causing mild international mayhem. Her mother, a former socialite with a criminally creative streak, was equally far away—likely pilfering priceless art or hosting a gala in Milan.
That left her siblings. Unpredictable. Chaotic. Capable of starting fights over a single potato chip. And in the last week, they had all somehow managed to disown her. Again. Not formally, of course—they'd never bother with formality—but Charlie had learned that their love came with a distinct flair for emotional landmines.
Charlie sighed as she sipped her coffee, feeling it go straight to her nervous system rather than her stomach. She had just survived a near-vase disaster in the lobby, somehow managed to compliment a death trap orchid, and met Alexander Hartwell—the man whose reputation preceded him like a storm warning. And now she had to deal with… well, Montroses.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, a picture from her brother: her cat, wrapped in socks, looking mildly offended. The caption read: "Rescued. Mom still mad."
Blair leaned over, peeking at the phone. "You see? Even your cat is a victim of your family's… talent for chaos."
Charlie groaned. "Honestly, I should just live in a bubble from now on."
Blair smirked. "And deprive the world of your charm? Never."
By the time Charlie arrived at Hartwell Industries again, she was already exhausted—but there was no time to dwell. Alexander had scheduled her for a private introduction to his world: a whirlwind tour of offices, security protocols, and… secrets she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know.
As she walked behind him, heels clicking on marble floors, she realized the elevator incident had been the calm before the storm. Alexander's empire was vast, precise, and terrifying. Graphs and projections lined the walls, security monitors tracked every corner, and assistants moved like soldiers executing silent orders. Charlie felt her pulse quicken—not from fear, exactly, but from the heady thrill of being somewhere she absolutely did not belong.
Alexander turned at one point, catching her glancing at a particularly intimidating monitor. "Curious?" he asked, voice low, almost a purr.
Charlie cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. "Always. Knowledge is power."
He didn't respond immediately, just studied her with a calm intensity that made her feel like her thoughts were an open book. Not the messy, scribbled kind, either. The kind of book people might read if they dared.
Their tour led them to a private conference room, where Alexander laid out a stack of documents like a general preparing for war. "I need someone I can trust," he said. "Someone who can navigate people, influence decisions, and survive… unexpected complications."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "And by 'unexpected complications,' you mean…?"
He didn't answer immediately, just leaned back, his eyes darkening slightly. "Complications like your family… multiplied by an entire business empire, with the occasional threat of violence."
Charlie's stomach flipped. "You're saying you need someone who's crazy enough to… survive this?"
He smirked faintly. "Exactly."
Charlie laughed nervously. "Well… I am experienced in chaos."
Alexander tilted his head, considering her. "Experience can be dangerous. Or invaluable. We'll see which it is."
The words hung in the air, charged with tension. Charlie felt the thrill pulse through her veins. This was exactly the kind of challenge she secretly craved—dangerous, intoxicating, and completely out of her comfort zone.
Blair's commentary popped into her mind: "You're going to survive. Probably."
Charlie couldn't help but chuckle. Even now, Blair's humor was her lifeline.
The meeting ended with Alexander giving her a small, faintly intimidating smile. "I'll expect a report on this by tomorrow. And Ms. Montrose?"
Charlie paused. "Yes?"
"Do not underestimate the consequences of failure. Or… of charm."
Charlie blinked. Charm? She wasn't sure if he was threatening her or… complimenting her. Either way, her pulse quickened.
Later that evening, Charlie returned home to the usual Montrose madness. Her younger brother had attempted to cook dinner again, setting off the smoke alarm in dramatic fashion. Her cat hissed from the counter, clearly judging humanity in general.
Blair appeared with perfect timing, carrying two glasses of wine. "You survived, I take it?"
Charlie sank into the sofa, kicking off her heels like they were instruments of torture. "Barely. Alexander Hartwell is terrifying and… also somehow magnetic."
Blair smirked. "Told you. Danger is the best accessory."
Charlie groaned. "I think he could literally destroy me with a single glance. And yet…" She paused, laughing softly. "I kind of want him to."
Blair snorted. "This is why your life is a disaster. And why I love you."
Charlie shook her head, smiling despite herself. She had survived a vase disaster, a death-trap orchid, and the intimidatingly perfect Alexander Hartwell. Her life was chaotic, thrilling, and terrifying in equal measure—and she had a feeling this was just the beginning.