My mysterious billionaire

Chapter 1: Golden Opportunity

Emily’s POV

Shit. s**t. Shit

I’m late. Again.

I was sure that I set at least four alarms, but for some reason I’m still freaking late! The traffic didn’t help either, which is why I got down and started running like a maniac.

The clicking sound from my heels reminded me that I should have worn more comfortable shoes, but the freaking diary I worked for wanted women to look “professional” at all times. That was their way of disguising a torture device as sophistication.

My lungs burned. I may be thin, but that’s because I have a high metabolism. Not because I exercise.

I finally reached the company’s entrance. Hoping I didn’t look as disheveled as I felt. I quickly ran inside and sat in my small cubicle. I was hoping that he didn’t notice my tardiness, but of course, nothing went the way I wanted it to.

“Emily, my office,” Kevin called. He was our chief editor; being called by him was the same as being summoned to the principal's office, only with a much better view and a far greater potential for career evisceration.

My heart, which had just begun to settle into a semi-normal rhythm, immediately launched itself into my throat. I froze for a second, my fingers still hovering over my keyboard, pretending to be in the middle of something crucial. Slowly, I pushed my chair back and stood up, smoothing down my wrinkled blouse. It was no use. I was a crumpled piece of paper next to everyone else's crisp, professional perfection.

The walk to his corner office felt like a perp walk. I could feel the eyes of my colleagues—Sarah from marketing with her perfectly coiffed hair and Ben from design, sipping his cold brew with infuriating calm. They were all wondering why Keving called me into the office and secretly wished my head was cut.

Yeah, the perfect work environment.

Kevin’s door was open, so I didn’t have to knock. He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me, but that didn’t matter, because as soon as I entered, he spoke, without needing to turn around.

"Close the door, Emily."

His voice was calm. Flat. That was worse than if he’d been yelling.

Once I closed the door, he turned around to face me. “Care to explain why you came almost half an hour late?”

I winced, my shoulders hiking up to my ears. "Kevin, I am so sorry. My alarm was a traitor, the traffic on the I-90 was a personal insult, and I'm pretty sure my heels are actually designed by the Spanish Inquisition. I ran six blocks. I think I have shin splints. I'm a mess."

I braced for the icy, professional wrath.

Instead, a slow grin spread across his face, cracking the stern editor facade. He shook his head, a low chuckle escaping him. "Six blocks in those death traps? I'm surprised you didn't take out a small pedestrian. The city should be thanking you for your restraint."

The tension in my shoulders dissolved so fast I almost swayed. "Hey, I'll have you know I only hip-checked one businessman. And he had it coming. His tie was too smug."

Kevin laughed fully now, the sound warm and familiar in the sterile office. He walked around his desk and dropped into his chair, gesturing for me to sit in the one opposite. "A public service, then. But seriously, Em. Half an hour? You missed the entire pitch meeting for the tech column. I had to tell Henderson you had a 'family emergency'." He made air quotes around the words, his eyebrow raised.

I groaned, slumping into the chair. "You're a lifesaver. I owe you one. A big one. I'll... I'll take your dog to the groomer. The one that makes him look like a little lion."

"Bartholomew would appreciate that," he said, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. "But my price is higher. I need you to proof Henderson's piece on blockchain. It's a thousand words of pure, unadulterated gibberish. I think he just learned those words yesterday and used a thesaurus for all of them. It's your punishment for making me lie to a senior contributor."

I let out a dramatic sigh of relief. "Proofing tech-bro jargon? A fate worse than death. But a fair punishment. I accept my sentence."

He smiled. “I thought you would groan like a little child. I was ready to give you something… juicy.”

That piqued my interest. Kevin always gave me boring tasks; even when I asked him for something thrilling, he refused to let me go outside and look for more interesting news.

“You know what? I changed my mind about fixing Henderson’s writing. Tell me what you’ve got,” I said, leaning forward, my earlier exhaustion replaced by a spark of curiosity. "What's the juicy thing?"

Kevin's smile turned into a full-blown, mischievous grin. He leaned forward too, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper even though the door was closed. "How would you feel about going from proofing Henderson's garbage... to landing the interview that every major publication in the world has been trying to get for a decade?"

I blinked. "What? Who? Don't tease me, Kevin. Is it that reclusive author? The tech CEO who never speaks to press?"

He let the suspense hang for a beat, his eyes gleaming. "Bigger."

My mind raced through a list of impossibilities. "Kevin, who?"

"Baek Jin."

The name landed in the quiet office with the force of a bomb. I actually felt the blood drain from my face. "The Baek Jin? The 'Phantom of the Tech World' Baek Jin? The guy who hasn't given a single interview, not even when he got the position of CEO?”

"The one and only," Kevin confirmed, looking utterly pleased with my reaction.

I stared at him, my mouth slightly agape. "You've lost your mind. You've finally cracked under the pressure of editing think-pieces on avocado toast. He's a myth. A ghost. His own employees probably communicate with him via Ouija board."

"He's real. And he's in the city. For a very limited time," Kevin said, his tone turning serious. "Rumor is he's scouting for a new biomedical research facility. His security makes the Secret Service look like mall cops. No one gets near him."

"And you want me to get near him?" I let out a disbelieving laugh. "Kevin, I can't even get near the office before 9:17 without causing a minor international incident. How am I supposed to get an audience with the most elusive billionaire on the planet?"

"That's the 'juicy' part," he said, steepling his fingers. "I got you an interview with the man, but you need to be there on time. Punctuality is what these men treasure the most, and wear something nice. Ditch the glasses.”

I glared at him. “My glasses are fine. If you want to criticize something, then talk about my hair. I look like a freaking tomato when I run through the streets.”

Kevin held up his hands in surrender, his grin softening. "Okay, okay. The glasses stay. The hair... well, we can fix that. But the point stands, Emily. This is it. The golden ticket. I called in a favor from a guy who knows a guy who plays golf with Baek Jin's financial advisor. It's a ten-minute window. Tomorrow. 10 PM sharp. You need to be in his office.”

“Isn’t that time a little late?” I questioned with a quirked eyebrow.

“He is not a degenerate if that is what you are wondering. In fact, the word says that the man is a eunuch. There is not a single scandal regarding an ex-girlfriend, which is weird considering his position.”

"A eunuch? Kevin, what century are you living in? The man is probably just private. Or... you know... busy running a multi-billion dollar empire. Maybe he doesn't have time for scandal."

"Maybe," Kevin said, though he looked unconvinced. "The point is, his personal life is a black hole, which makes him even more fascinating. And 10 PM is prime time for a man who likely operates on about two hours of sleep and a intravenous drip of green tea. This is your shot, Em. His guard might be down. He might be... chatty."

Chatty. I tried to imagine the famously reticent Baek Jin being 'chatty'. The image wouldn't form.

"His office. Don't be late," Kevin said, his voice low and grave. "Not even by a second. This favor... it doesn't get called in twice."

I nodded, my throat tight. All the jokes about my tardiness, about my disheveled hair, evaporated. This was deadly serious. "I won't be late," I said, and the words felt like a vow. "I'll camp out in the lobby if I have to."

"Good." He leaned back, the intensity fading back into his usual easy-going demeanor, though his eyes remained serious. "Now get out of here. Go buy a new notebook. Research until your eyes cross. And for the love of god, look like you came out of a freaking magazine.”

“Didn’t you say he was an eunuch?” I teased.

Kevin rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, Em. He is still a man, and we open up to pretty faces.”

“That’s why you are only my boss while he runs a multi-million dollar company,” I chuckled, knowing I was hitting a sore spot.

Kevin just stared at me blankly, but to be honest, he deserved it. Just because a man decided to keep his love life private, he didn’t deserve to be called names.

I stood up, my legs only slightly steadier than when I’d walked in. My mind was already a whirlwind—search histories, question formulations, outfit options. The mundane horror of Henderson's blockchain article was a distant, trivial memory.

As I opened the door to leave, Kevin's voice stopped me one last time.

"Oh, and Emily?"

I turned.

"Try to get some sleep tomorrow. You're going to need it."

I gave him a weak smile that probably looked more like a grimace. Sleep? Yeah, right. I was now running on the high-octane fuel of pure terror. I had twenty-four hours to transform from the woman who hip-checked strangers on the sidewalk into someone worthy of ten minutes with a modern-day phantom.

No pressure.