Charles furrowed his brows, assessing whether Emily was out of her mind or genuinely serious. Either way, she was far too reckless.
She was eagerly willing to live immediately with men.
What did he expect from a club servant? He sighed, feeling a tinge of disappointment.
"Of course." Charles answered plainly before she had a chance to reconsider. He didn't want to prolong this conversation. His mission was simple—deliver her to his brother, and be done with it.
Blissfully unaware of his thoughts, Emily giggled and obediently followed.
"Wait!" she suddenly exclaimed, eyes glimmering with excitement.
Charles stopped, turning to her with an impatient glare.
What now?
His frustration was obvious, though he held back from voicing it.
Emily quickly pulled out her phone, rushed toward him, and snapped a selfie.
Charles stiffened, momentarily taken aback.
This girl is too playful!
Swiftly, he snatched her phone.
Emily pouted, gazing at him with wide, pleading eyes.
He looked utterly unimpressed.
She blinked at him repeatedly, attempting to charm him with an innocent, puppy-like expression.
"One more rule…" he muttered, his deep voice carrying unmistakable displeasure.
"You will respect my privacy. You're not allowed to take photos of me, my belongings, my family, or my location. This wasn't taught in school, Ms. Greyson, but I expect you to have some common sense. Understood?"
His tone was firm, cutting into her ego.
"But… I've been your fan since the beginning—" she started, only for Charles to lift a single, delicate finger, silencing her.
"If you want to live in my house, you will respect my privacy. No ifs, no buts. If you can't—" His piercing gaze met her embarrassed one. "Then forget the contract."
Emily swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of his words.
Had she already ruined her chance before even starting?
"I—I'm sorry," she stammered. "I swear, I won't do it again."
She had no choice but to comply. If she didn't, she'd have nowhere to stay. Worse, her father would find her soon.
"Now… can I have my phone back?" She batted her lashes, hoping he'd notice her natural beauty.
Maybe—just maybe—he would fall for her one day.
That's an impossible illusion, Emily!
She knew that. But as an avid fan, the wish still bubbled inside her.
"Fine," Charles sighed. "But delete the picture first."
"Oh no! I can't! It's already part of my collection."
Her response was too eager, too honest.
If only he knew—her phone was practically a shrine dedicated to him. From her wallpaper to every photo in her album, Charles was everywhere.
"Collection?" He frowned, as if he couldn't believe he was some artifact meant for display.
Emily's stomach dropped. That… probably sounded wrong.
"I mean, I'm your fan. Isn't it normal for me to have pictures of you?" She scrambled for an explanation, desperate not to be misunderstood.
Charles's frown deepened. He clearly didn't comprehend the mindset of a fan.
Who could blame him?
A superstar like him would never truly grasp the devotion of those who adored him. Praised all his life, he couldn't relate to someone like her.
"My darling superstar—" Emily started with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "That's just how fans are! It's normal!"
"What?!"
His expression darkened instantly.
Emily blinked, confused.
"Do not call me that again." His voice carried a deadly warning. "I am not your darling superstar."
He was clearly restraining his temper, but irritation was already seeping through his controlled demeanor.
"Ms. Greyson, I have met countless women who throw compliments at me. You don't need to try so hard. Flattery means nothing to me. Just focus on your work—focus on my brother. Clear?"
Emily felt like she'd just been scolded.
"Are you… angry?" she asked hesitantly.
Even annoyed, Charles looked unfairly handsome.
He exuded an effortless charisma that made it impossible not to be drawn to him.
"Let's go." His sharp tone left no room for argument.
Without another word, he tossed her phone back, wanting nothing more to do with her.
Is she really this gullible?
What a waste of beauty.
He hated clingy women. And he hated those who lacked common sense even more.
Charles strode ahead, refusing to entertain her any further.
If it weren't for his brother, he would never tolerate associating with this kind of girl.
Behind him, Emily simply smiled.
He might have forgotten about the picture on her phone…
Which meant she could make it her new wallpaper.
Emily still couldn't believe it.
Charles Adams—the man she had idolized for years—was sitting beside her, and he had just offered her a place in his home.
Oh, Gosh!
Fate was finally on her side!
Signing the contract wasn't just a necessity anymore—it was her golden ticket. Her father would never find her here, hidden within the walls of the Adams estate. No one would ever believe that she-a penniless girl—had found refuge under the same roof as one of the most unattainable men in the world.
People would laugh if she were to announce it.
Maybe I'd become a superstar online, too.
Then again, Charles's fans might kill her first.
Inside his sleek, polished car, Emily tried her best to focus as he briefed her about his brother. His tone was firm, almost personal—as if this matter meant more to him than he let on.
Was it guilt?
She wasn't sure, but that wasn't her concern at the moment.
Her new job required her to quit her bar work immediately.
She nodded attentively, but her mind? It was spiraling.
She was overwhelmed.
This was spectacular.
This was her chance to see him up close, to truly be in his world.
And God help her, he was even more breathtaking in person.
Hollywood actors would shrink before Charles Adam. He was beyond perfection.
When they arrived, a sharply dressed man immediately opened her door.
Emily flashed him a polite smile. "Thank you."
The man, one of the trusted butlers of the Adams mansion, nodded in response.
Charles, uninterested in pleasantries, tossed the keys to the man and strode toward the entrance.
Emily hurried after him, eyes darting around, mesmerized by the sheer grandeur of her surroundings.
As they stepped inside, rows of maids lined up, bowing their heads in unison.
"Good morning, young master," they greeted, voices perfectly synchronized.
Emily stared, utterly stunned.
It was 1:30 AM.
And yet, they were all awake just to welcome him?
Charles raised a single index finger—silent but authoritative.
Instantly, they straightened.
"This is Ms. Emily Greyson," he announced, his voice deep and unwavering. "From now on, she will be serving my brother, Warren Adams, as his personal attendant. I expect all of you to assist her in every way necessary."
His tone carried the weight of a decree—one that could not be challenged.
Emily swallowed hard, her admiration growing tenfold.
So this was what Charles Adams was like at home.
Commanding. Unshaken. Absolutely magnetic.
Her gaze softened as she watched him.
She giggled, completely enchanted—until she noticed the long, piercing stares from the staff.
Oh.
She had been staring at him too long, hadn't she?
Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.
Clearing her throat, she quickly gathered herself.
"I—uh—just call me Emi," she said, flashing her friendliest smile. "I look forward to working with all of you!"
Some of them smiled back.
Some didn't.
"That's all."
Charles cut the introductions short, dismissing everyone with the efficiency of a king waving his subjects away.
Like clockwork, the maids bowed in perfect unison and disappeared.
Emily blinked in disbelief.
They had all stayed up just for this?
"Ms. Greyson, follow me."
His voice snapped her back to reality.
Even his voice sounded like a dream.
Every moment felt surreal.
Trailing after Charles, Emily marveled at the sheer beauty of the mansion's classic European interior.
"Wow," she breathed, her eyes glimmering with awe.
Was this his palace?
She never thought she'd ever step foot inside his home.
Her stomach flipped at the realization.
She glanced around, taking in every intricate detail—until her gaze landed on a massive framed portrait in the living room.
A family picture.
Two boys sat side by side—their young features unmistakable.
Charles was seated beside a beautiful woman, undoubtedly his mother. The other boy sat next to a striking man—his father.
That must be Warren Adams.
Emily's eyes lingered on the elegant pair.
'Hi, Mom.'
'Hi, Dad.'
She waved at them absentmindedly, giggling softly to herself.
If Charles's fans knew I was seeing his parents, they'd lose their minds.
Her smile grew.
At least, she could say that her superstar had a happy family.
"What are you doing?"
Charles's irritated voice sliced through her thoughts.
She stiffened.
Turning quickly, she tried to appear casual, but her expression betrayed her.
Great.
She hated herself for this.
" I-I'm sorry," she blurted, cheeks burning. "I just couldn't help but stare at your family picture."
Charles's frown deepened.
He strode toward her, eyes sharp with displeasure.
"Ms. Greyson," he muttered, assessing her, "are you sure you can do this job well?"
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could utter a single word.
"Because all I see is distraction. Can I actually rely on you? Because if not—" He paused, gaze locking onto hers.
"…you can go home and forget about the contract."
Her heart dropped.
"No!" she blurted, panic gripping her. "I already signed the contract! I'll do my best to serve your brother."
She had to.
She couldn't lose this chance—not now.
She was inside his private life.
Among millions of fans, she had the privilege of knowing things they never would.
The thought made her heart dance.
If she were clever enough, she could even sell his private information at a high price.
That'd make her rich.
Charles sighed, eyes still clouded with disapproval.
"Then don't waste my time."
His voice carried exhaustion—and irritation.
"Oh, sorry," she mumbled, quickly falling in step with him.
Charles's stride was long, forcing her to run to keep up.
Every inch of the mansion was regal—fit for royalty.
She admired the classic wooden staircase, the red carpet detailed with gold embellishments.
Her heart fluttered.
She felt like a princess.
And Charles—her prince.
If only they were walking hand in hand, perfectly destined for each other…
"We're here."
Charles stopped in front of a door.
Emily steadied herself, forcing down her excitement.
She smiled up at him, barely containing the joy bubbling inside her.
Seeing Charles's world—his real world—was intoxicating.
"Are you ready?"
His expression was unreadable, doubt lingering in his eyes.
She nodded firmly.
Not everyone was given this rare opportunity—she was lucky, and she wouldn't let it slip away.
"This job is mine," she murmured.
Charles smirked.
Then, he opened the door.
It wasn't locked.
Whoever was inside had been expecting her arrival.
Emily's chest tightened.
A strange feeling crept in.
Nervous energy wrapped around her like a fog.
She stuck close behind Charles, drawn to his presence—his unwavering strength.
And then—
"Brother, as promised…"
Charles spoke, his tone carrying something unreadable.
"She's here."
Finally, he stepped aside, revealing Emily completely.