His Personal Assistant

20. | Five-Thousand

Penelope comes barging into my office as I prepare to leave. "Where's Naomi?"

"Home." I tell, sliding my suit jacket on.

"Where are you going?" She narrows her eyes.

"Naomi's." I grab my keys and phone, walking to the door.

"Are you two gonna have sex?" She rears back, face scrunched in disgust.

My head snaps to her. "No! What the fuck? She's sick!"

"Oh." She nods. "Okay, then." She spins and all but skips out the door. Jesus Christ.

I walk out of my office and lock it as Lindsey walks up to me. "I got some soup for Naomi." She holds it out for me. "Bring it to her, would you, Mr. Croyso? I mean, that is where you're going, right?"

I nod, taking it from her. "Thanks. I'll make sure to give it to her." She smiles, then walks away.

Walking to the elevator, I take a detour, stopping by Mason's desk. "Heya, Boss." He grins up at me.

"Hey. I need you to watch over the office while I'm gone."

"She's still sick, huh?"

"Like a dog." I sigh. "I should get going."

He nods. "See you, Boss."

I tap his desk before I walk to the elevator, pressing the button to receive the elevator.

***

Naomi sleeps upstairs while I clean downstairs. I've learned that if I don't have something to focus on, I end up cleaning. Penelope and Kasey like to pick fun at me for it, but Eira always scolds them, saying they don't know what it's like.

I reorganize her shelf, dusting and cleaning it. I slow as I realize what I'm holding. Bills upon bills. Is this everything she's been trying to pay off?

I flip through them until I find a checkbook open. Written on it is a check for five-thousand dollars. Signed to...Adam Vaughn.

I recognize that name. But from where?

"Rhys!" I curse, quickly putting the bills back and rushing to her side. When I don't find her in bed, I move to the bathroom, where she stands breathing heavily, pushing her hair back from her face.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

She turns her body, leaning back against the bathroom counter. "I didn't make it in time." I notice now that there's puke on the floor. "I hate this."

I walk to her. "It's okay. I'll clean it up."

"No. You shouldn't have to." She grabs my arms, pouting at me. "I should be the one cleaning up my messes."

"Naomi, you are sick as a dog right now. You are in no shape to be cleaning—"

"And I'm going to be sick again." She rushes to the toilet, retching and gagging into the toilet bowl. I grimace, walking over to her and moving her hair out of the way. After a few minutes, she dry-heaves into the toilet before pulling away, breathing heavily.

"All good now?" I raise a brow, pushing her hair out of the way.

"For now." She sighs. She rolls her head to look at me. "I'm sorry you have to deal with all this."

I shake my head. "Don't be. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't willing to take care of you."

"But why?" Her brows furrow. "Why are you here?"

"Azzy gets sick a lot, and I guess...I've always hated feeling useless and I don't know. You being sick makes me feel less...useless."

"How come she gets sick?"

"She has a really weak immune system, and just a small stomach bug lands her in the hospital because of how severe her symptoms get."

She nods but seems to realize something. "Oh, my god. What if I got her sick?"

"Don't worry. She's fine. Plus, I made sure to disinfect the office and I disinfect myself each time I leave here." I explain. She exhales in relief.

She turns to me, a small smile on her face. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I smile. I stand, pulling her up with me. "I'm going to clean this up, then you will hop in the bath and clean yourself off. Refresh yourself."

"Okay."

"Okay?" I nod to myself.

She nods back. "Okay." I let her walk out of the room, her side-stepping the mess on the floor.

***

Stepping inside my penthouse, I freeze at the sight of my mother and father. "What are you two doing here?"

My mother stands, sighing. "We came to see you. We went to your office, but you weren't there. They said you had gone out for the day."

"Okay, let me rephrase this. What do you two want?" I glare.

My parents may be wealthy business people, but they are far from perfect. My father hides his adultery from the public, while my mother gets high off her ass every night. And they manage to hide it all from the public.

My mother sighs. "We're falling into debt."

I shrug. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"I want you to lend us the money, so we can get back onto our feet again." She glares.

"You have a company."

"It's going under, son." My father speaks up, standing. "And we need your help to save it."

My eyes narrow. "Why would I help you?"

"Because we're your parents."

"Because if we go down, you go down with us."

They both reply at the same time. They glance at each other before rolling their eyes. "As your parents, you should at least help us."

"I shouldn't do anything." I laugh humorlessly at the irony. "But what you should do, is get out of my house before I throw you out." I point to the door.

"Fine. Be like that." My mother storms off to the door, my father following shortly after.

My mother leaves as my father stops, pressing a hand to my shoulder. "Think about what I said, Rhys. If we go down, you'll follow not long after."

Then he walks away, following my mother to the elevator. I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Of course, they wanted something. When do they ever not want something?

I walk upstairs to my bedroom, stripping as I wander to the bathroom. I turn on the shower, steam filling the bathroom and clouding the mirror. I step inside, the water running over me, my muscles relaxing.

After Naomi bathed, I made her the soup Lindsey got her. She went to bed after insisting I go home, which I did.

Though I had wanted to just shower and head to bed, it seems my parents had another idea.

I sigh, washing off before getting out and drying. I change into boxers and sweatpants, then climb into bed with my laptop. Not even thirty minutes into working, I get a phone call.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Hey, you're the number one contact on this man's phone. He's, like, black out drunk." I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Mason.

"Where is he? I'm on my way."