Ayra Muthoni had always known life was hard, but she had never expected it to hit this fast, this hard. At nineteen, with a sick mother and a younger brother depending on her, she had learned that survival was about making sacrifices that left her nights sleepless and her days endless. Selling second-hand clothes in Gikomba had been her reality for years, but she knew she was meant for more ;something bigger than counting coins before buying bread.
The opportunity came unexpectedly: a job interview at Kairo Industries, one of Nairobi's most powerful companies. The company had a reputation for high standards, strict protocols, and wealthy, intimidating executives. But to Ayra, this wasn't about prestige , it was about survival. If she could get this job, she could finally pay her mother's medical bills, cover her brother's school fees, and maybe breathe for the first time in years.
The glass doors of Kairo Industries towered over her as she hesitated, staring at the polished lobby. Everything gleamed: marble floors, chrome accents, the smell of rich leather and perfume mingling in the air. Her reflection in the glass made her frown... scuffed black heels, a cheap bag, hair hastily pinned back. She looked like a shadow in a world of gold, but Mama's words echoed in her head:
"Walk in like you belong, Ayra. Even if you don't, they'll believe you do."
She squared her shoulders, inhaled, and stepped inside.
The receptionist looked up, her expression polite but cold. "Name?"
"Ayra Muthoni. I'm here for the personal assistant position for Mr. Liam Kairo."
Her eyebrows raised slightly, as if amused. "You mean the CEO's son?"
"Yes." Ayra's voice didn't waver, though her stomach knotted.
The receptionist picked up the phone. "Send her up."
The elevator ride was endless. Ayra watched her reflection, trying to breathe. The glossy metal walls reflected a girl who was terrified but determined , a girl who had been given a chance, and she couldn't waste it.
When the elevator doors opened, the office was all white marble, modern furniture, and glass walls that made it feel larger than life. And there he was-Liam Kairo.
He leaned casually on a desk, sleeves rolled up, black tie loose around his neck, eyes dark and calculating. Every movement exuded confidence, authority, and danger. He looked at her once, and she felt as if he had peered straight through her, dissecting her weaknesses.
"You're late," he said, voice smooth, low, and sharp.
"I-I came straight from..."
"I don't want excuses," he cut her off. "You work for me now. When I say eight, you arrive at seven fifty. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," she replied, her voice steady though her hands shook.
He glanced at her again, slowly this time, eyes sweeping over her like he was memorizing her. "Start by organizing these files. And make me coffee. Black. No sugar."
The day dragged on. Every instruction from him was precise, every glance charged with unspoken judgment. Yet in those fleeting moments when he wasn't speaking, Ayra caught glimpses of something else; a subtle vulnerability, a flicker of loneliness behind the arrogance. She shook the thought from her head. She had no time for distractions; her goal was survival.
By evening, exhaustion had made her dizzy. As she packed her bag, a voice interrupted her.
"Ms. Muthoni."
"Yes, sir?"
"You're coming to the gala tonight. My father insists every assistant should attend."
Her heart sank. "A gala, sir? I don't..."
"Figure it out," he said, not looking up from his laptop. "Car leaves at eight."
Ayra swallowed. She could argue, but she didn't. Mama's medicine, her brother's school fees, her own rent... all depended on this job.
The night of the gala, Ayra had borrowed a simple black dress from her friend Zia. She had applied lipstick far too dark for her comfort and tied her hair into a tight bun. When she arrived, the room dazzled: chandeliers reflected in crystal glasses, laughter floated above the low hum of conversation, and everyone seemed impossibly elegant. She felt like a shadow at the edge of a diamond-studded ballroom.
Then she saw him-Liam Kairo.
He wore a crisp tuxedo that hugged his broad shoulders perfectly. Hair slicked back, jaw sharp, eyes unreadable. And when he saw her, that small, mocking smirk appeared, the one that said, I see you, and I am not impressed.
"Didn't expect you'd actually come," he murmured.
"I said I'd come," she replied tightly.
Throughout the night, he found reasons to stay near her , brushing past her at the buffet, standing close while she mingled, whispering sarcastic remarks that made her lips twitch in spite of herself. Every glance sent shivers down her spine. She hated herself for noticing how much she liked it.
And then, the cameras found them. Someone whispered: "That's Liam Kairo's new girl, isn't it?"
Ayra's stomach dropped. The flashes of cameras captured him guiding her away from the crowd, laughing with her, his hand lightly on her back. Within hours, social media exploded with speculation.
By midnight, Ayra was dizzy from champagne she hadn't meant to drink. Someone she couldn't remember who, had insisted she take a sip. Liam had noticed, of course, and took the glass from her, saying, "You've had enough. I'll take you home."
The last thing she remembered was being guided through the crowd, his presence beside her magnetic and terrifying all at once.
Morning was worse.
She woke in a luxury hotel suite, silk sheets beneath her, the soft hum of the city outside. And there he was—Liam Kairo, asleep beside her, shirtless.
Her heart hammered. She was in his bed.
He stirred, eyes opening slowly. "Ayra…?"
"What happened?" she whispered, panic rising.
"Nothing," he said, sitting up. "You passed out. I brought you here so no one would see you like that."
Ayra's mind raced. Her dress was disheveled, the zipper undone. Her face burned.
Before she could react further, her phone buzzed. Notifications. Headlines. Photos. Rumors. Scandal.
"CEO's Son Spotted With Mystery Girl,Morning After Together?"
"Liam Kairo's Assistant: Lover or Just Another Scandal?"
Her stomach sank.
By the time they returned to the office, the board had already called an emergency meeting. Mr. Richard Kairo, Liam's father, was furious.
"You two have embarrassed this family!" he bellowed. "I want an explanation. Now."
Liam's jaw was tight. "It was nothing, father. She works for me..."
"Nothing?" the older man thundered. "You are dragging this company through the mud. Fix it."
Ayra's mouth went dry. "Sir, please, I..."
"You will marry him," Mr. Kairo declared, eyes sharp. "Publicly. Immediately. This family's name must be protected."
Shock froze Ayra. "What? Sir, I can't..."
"You can," he interrupted. "You sign a contract for six months. No intimacy, no feelings ,only appearances. Refuse, and you both lose your jobs. And more."
Liam stared at his father, incredulous. "You can't force this..."
"Watch me," the older man snapped.
And just like that, Ayra Muthoni went from a desperate assistant trying to survive to the fiancée of one of Kenya's most notorious bachelors, on paper at least.
The gala, the headlines, the accidental scandal ... it had changed everything.
Her life, her future, her heart ,everything now belonged to a man she barely knew, a man she had already begun to notice in ways that scared her.
And Liam Kairo… he wasn't as cold as he seemed. Not entirely.
Because behind the arrogance, behind the icy stares, she had caught glimpses of something real. Something raw. Something she didn't yet understand, and would soon discover, whether she wanted to or not.