Chapter 6 - Entering the Estate
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The Perry compound was located on a sprawling, heavily wooded property in the northern suburbs. Iron gates, security cameras, and men in dark suits with visible shoulder holsters marked the perimeter.
Nevaeh arrived the next morning in a modest taxi. She carried a single duffel bag. She wore a tailored black blazer and dark slacks—no more catering uniforms. She was an executive now.
Leandro’s head of security, a massive, scarred man named Marco, met her at the front door.
“Mr. Perry is expecting you,” Marco grunted, his eyes lingering on her lush curves before quickly snapping back to her face. Even the guards knew she was off-limits.
Marco led her through the grand foyer, past priceless oil paintings and imported marble statues. The house was cold, echoing with the silence of old, bloody money.
They entered a sunlit morning room. Leandro sat at a glass table, drinking espresso and reviewing financial documents.
Sitting across from him was Stella.
Stella was halfway through a rant about a jewelry designer when Nevaeh walked into the room. The heiress froze. Her coffee cup slipped from her fingers, shattering against the expensive saucer.
“What is she doing here?!” Stella shrieked, shooting up from her chair. “Leandro, are you insane? Get her out!”
Leandro didn't even blink at the broken porcelain. He looked up at Nevaeh and smiled—a dark, genuinely amused expression.
“Stella, meet my new executive assistant,” Leandro said smoothly. “Miss Brown will be managing my schedule, overseeing the estate staff, and approving all of your personal expenditures moving forward.”
Stella went completely pale. “My expenditures? She’s a waitress! She’s trash!”
Nevaeh walked calmly up to the table. She didn't flinch. She picked up a pristine linen napkin and dropped it directly over Stella’s spilled coffee.
“I was a waitress,” Nevaeh corrected, her voice perfectly even. “Now, I am the person who decides if you actually need a fourth pair of Prada boots this month, Miss Perry. I suggest we learn to get along.”
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Stella let out a sound of pure, unadulterated rage, glaring at her brother before storming out of the room, slamming the heavy mahogany doors behind her.
Leandro took a slow sip of his espresso. “You’re hired.”
