Her three to Command

Selene

Thank God it’s Friday.

All week I’ve been surviving on caffeine, deadlines, and the thin hope that this weekend would finally be my moment to crash, burn, and maybe binge-watch or read something with wine in hand. My eyes glance at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time—4:40 p.m. Twenty minutes to go.

Its so close that I can taste freedom.

Then my phone rings.

A sinking feeling pools in my stomach when I see the name on the screen. Mr. Reed. Great. Just what I need. With forced cheer I pick up, “Yes, Mr. Reed?”

“Can you step into my office for a moment?”

That’s never a good sign.

I throw a quick glance at my screen, consider pretending im busy, then sigh and stand. I smooth down my blouse, square my shoulders, and walk the green mile to his office. I knock lightly, and he calls me in.

Jonathan Reed is already standing, jacket slung over one arm, clearly halfway out the door. “Selene,” he starts, tone warm, “you’ve been one of the few people I can really depend on around here.”

My stomach drops a little more. Oh no, flattery before a request—classic boss move.

“I need a favor. My younger brother is flying in for the weekend. His flight lands in less than an hour. He’s got some business to take care of here, but Marge has us heading to Steamboat this evening, and, well, let’s just say cancelling is not an option. I need someone I trust to meet him at the airport, get him settled in, and take him around.”

I blink at him. Is he serious ? It sounds like wants me to babysit?

“He’ll be staying at my house, and I’d like you to entertain him for the weekend. Dinner, drinks, whatever he’s into. Please just make sure he has a good time.”

And there goes my weekend just like that.

I can feel the disappointment twist my face before I can stop it. So much for wine and Netflix. Now I’m playing tour guide to some spoiled, probably arrogant man-child with a trust fund and arrogance .

As if sensing my displeasure , Mr. Reed throws in the hook and starts to reel me in.

“Selene,” he says smoothly, “I know you’ve been eyeing that Executive Manager position. Do this for me, and the promotion—and a hefty raise—is yours. Guaranteed.”

And there it is. The hook in my mouth. Damn it.

He’s got me, and we both know it. I’ve been grinding nonstop, putting in overtime and sacrificing weekends for this promotion. If a weekend of playing "baby sitter" gets me across the finish line faster, then fine. I can deal with it.

I smile, tight but polite. “Of course, Mr. Reed.”

He brightens. “Selene , for the 100th time it’s Jonathan . And Excellent. His name’s Adrian. Mary has a placard with his name on it for you to use. Since you haven’t met, I figured it’d help.”

He pulls open a drawer and hands me a slim envelope.

“Take him out. Treat him well. Make sure he sees the best of the city. And here’s a little thank-you in advance.”

I open the envelope—and nearly choke.

Hundreds. Stacks of them. I do a quick mental count. At least $3,000.

He grins at my expression. “Expense everything to my corporate card. That’s just for you.”

I swallow my surprise. “Thank you, Mr. Err Jonathan .”

“And here.” He reaches into another drawer and pulls out a key fob—sleek, shiny, and unmistakable.

His Corvette.

“Use my car,” he adds casually, as if it’s not a freaking black-on-black beast of a machine. “Adrian will expect to ride in style.”

I take the keys and walk back to my office in a bit of a daze. Okay… maybe this isn’t the worst Friday ever.

A promotion, a massive tip, and a Corvette?

I can entertain Mr. Adrian Reed for a weekend. No problem.

I grab my purse and head out to the front desk. Mary looks up with a twinkle in her eye.

“Hey, can I grab that name placard? Mr. Reed asked me to pick up his brother.”

She hands it over with a knowing smile. “You lucky girl.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s just… Adrian is such a dish,” she says with a dramatic swoon.

I laugh. “Oh, lucky me.”

With the card in hand, I head for the elevator and hit the button for the basement garage. As the doors close, I check myself out in the mirror—freshen up my lipstick, swipe a little eyeliner, and smooth my top. No time to go home and change, but I’m decently dressed.

When the doors open, I step into the quiet hum of the garage and spot the car immediately. The Corvette is gleaming, sleek, and gorgeous—black like midnight sin.

Opening the door I slide in behind the wheel, heart quickening. The engine growls to life like a wild cat, and I can’t keep the huge grin off my face .

Okay, maybe this weekend won’t suck after all.

I roar out of the garage and head for the airport. Ready—or not—to meet Adrian Reed.