Chapter 8: The Butler, The Bodyguard, or The Babysitter?

Bright had seen enough movies to know where this was going.

Rich person takes in a broke, down-on-their-luck stray. Said rich person then hands them a suspiciously good job offer that feels like a setup for a lifetime of unpaid labor.

Which was why, when Emily leaned back on the couch one afternoon, stretched like a cat, and said, "You should work for me," Bright immediately squinted at her.

"Doing what?"

Emily tapped her chin. "Driver? Butler? Bodyguard?"

Bright made a face. "That's a weird list."

"I'm flexible."

"I don't even have a license."

"I could get you one."

"I'd be a terrible butler."

"I could lower my standards."

"I'd make an even worse bodyguard."

Emily smirked. "That one's non-negotiable."

Bright stared at her. She stared back, smug.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're serious about this?"

Emily shrugged. "I was going to hire someone anyway. Might as well be you."

Bright knew there was more to it than that. Emily could afford an actual professional, but instead, she was offering it to him.

He didn't like owing people. He really didn't. But living rent-free forever wasn't exactly an option either.

After a long pause, he exhaled. "Fine. I'll think about it."

Emily grinned. "Good. Now get me some coffee, Butler Bright."

Bright grabbed a pillow and threw it at her head.

The next day, Emily dragged him to a driving school.

Bright sat in the passenger seat, staring at the stack of forms in his hands.

"…This is actually happening."

Emily smirked. "Obviously."

"This isn't how normal people get jobs."

"Well, you're not normal, and I'm definitely not normal, so it works out."

Bright sighed, signing his name. "If I crash your car, it's your fault."

Emily patted his shoulder. "That's the spirit."

Over the next few months, Bright's life became significantly busier.

He got his license. (Barely.)

He drove Emily around. (Also barely.)

He did exactly zero butler duties except for once when she made him carry her shopping bags, which he still considered an abuse of power.

Somehow, though, it worked.

It wasn't like having a boss. It wasn't even like having a job. It was just Emily being Emily and Bright being dragged along for the ride.

And with that came people.

Emily had acquaintances everywhere.

Not necessarily friends—Emily was picky about those—but she knew people. Rich kids, business types, the occasional shady-looking guy who definitely wasn't just a 'businessman.'

There was Liam, a smooth-talking lawyer who had a habit of showing up unannounced and stealing Emily's snacks.

There was Rina, a fashion designer who somehow convinced Bright to model for a suit fitting once. (He still hadn't forgiven Emily for that.)

And then there was Elijah.

Bright didn't actually meet him at first. But he heard about him constantly.

Emily's younger brother, who lived in another city with their family.

"You'd hate him," Emily said one evening.

Bright raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"He's a brat."

Bright shrugged. "I live with you, don't I?"

Emily threw a grape at his head.

From what he gathered, Elijah was younger by a few years, ridiculously smart, and spoiled as hell. Emily liked him, obviously, but she talked about him the way someone would talk about a particularly annoying cat.

She complained about his expensive hobbies, his bad attitude, his tendency to think he was the smartest person in the room.

Bright wasn't sure what to expect. But knowing Emily, her brother was probably just as weird as she was.

One night, they were sitting on the balcony, watching the city lights, when Emily suddenly said, "I never actually asked—do you like doing this?"

Bright sipped his drink. "Driving you around?"

Emily hummed. "All of it."

Bright thought about it.

For the first time in years, he had stability. He had a roof over his head, a job that didn't involve washing dishes for scraps, and people who actually spoke to him like he mattered.

It wasn't what he expected his life to be. But that didn't mean it was bad.

Finally, he shrugged. "Yeah. It's not terrible."

Emily smirked. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Bright rolled his eyes. "Don't get used to it."

Emily leaned back, stretching her arms behind her head. "Too late."

They sat in silence after that, the kind that wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. Just… easy.

Bright didn't know where this was going.

But for now, it was fine.

And that was enough.

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