Chapter 3 THE INTERVIEW

The sun hadn't even touched the skyline, but Adrian Scott was already wide awake. He stood by the massive glass window of his suite, looking out at the city he owned.

Behind him, under the expensive silk sheets, the blonde he had summoned last night was still passed out. She had been beautiful, she had been loud, and she had been completely useless.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make him forget the girl from the bar.

Adrian pulled his silk robe over his shoulders, his muscles tight and restless. He was built like a weapon, broad chest, heavy shoulders, and a body that looked like it was made for war.

He walked to the nightstand and tossed a thick envelope of cash next to the sleeping woman. It was enough to keep her in designer clothes for a year. He didn't care. He just wanted her out of his bed.

As he looked at her, his mind suddenly drifted back to the night before. He closed his eyes and he wasn't in his penthouse anymore.

He was back in that dark bar again, but this time he reached across the table and pulled her toward him, his large hands firm on her thighs as she slid over the smooth wood..

He imagined her pinned against the wall, her legs hooked over his shoulders as he ripped her lace panties to the side. He could almost feel how wet she would be for him,dripping, hot, and tight.

He wanted to watch her face as he slid two fingers deep inside her, stretching her open while his thumb ground against her clit until she was sobbing his name.

He imagined driving into her, breaking that proud British composure until the only thing she could do was scream his name. Adrian. Not "Mr. Scott," not "sir," but his name, cried out like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. The thought was so vivid, so raw, that he felt a physical ache tighten in his groin, his breath hitching in the quiet room.

He saw himself slamming into her, over and over, his chest heaving against hers. He wanted to feel her fingernails digging into his back, her heels locking behind his waist as he drove her into the mattress.

He wouldn't stop until she was shaking, until her pussy was milking him, pulling every drop of heat out of him while he filled her deep and hard. He wanted to see her eyes roll back, her body going limp as she finally broke, belonging entirely to him.

Knock. Knock.

The sound of his driver at the door was like a bucket of ice water.

Adrian cursed under his breath, his eyes snapping open. The heavy ache in his groin didn't go away, but his face turned back to stone. He wasn't a man who sat around dreaming. He was a man who got what he wanted.

"I'll be down in five," he barked

....................................................................

Adrian arrived at the Scott Global headquarters at 8:00 AM. The lobby was a temple of glass and steel.

He sat behind his large, polished desk on the 7th floor, the city spread out below him.

Tall buildings caught the light, and the streets shimmered with moving cars. As he went through his schedule for the day, his eyes often returned to the view, taking it in with quiet pride.

"Sir," his assistant, Marcus, buzzed through the intercom. "The student from the university is here for the 9:00 AM profile. A Miss... Star Crawford?"

Adrian paused, his pen hovering over a contract. Star. It was a rare name, a beautiful name, but he shook the thought away.

The girl from the bar was a waitress in a dive lounge; there was no way she was the high achieving journalism student his PR team had been raving about.

"Star Crawford," Adrian repeated, the name feeling heavy and strangely hot on his tongue.

"Send her up, Marcus," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, silken register. "And cancel my 10:00 AM. I think this interview is going to take a lot longer than planned."

He leaned back in his leather chair, swiveling it toward the window so his back would be to the door. He wanted her to see the empire first. He wanted her to feel the weight of his world before she realized she was standing in a room with the lion she had insulted just hours ago.

The hunt was officially on.

When the heavy obsidian door finally hissed open behind him, he felt the air in the room shift.

He smelled it before he saw her. Vanilla. Citrus. And the faint, crisp scent of old books.

It was her.

Adrian Scott didn't turn around immediately. He stood with his hands in his pockets, from this height, he looked like a god deciding which parts of the city to burn.

"Mr. Scott?" Star cleared her throat. "I'm Star Crawford. I'm here for the university monthly"

Her voice was different. The soft British lilt he remembered from the bar the night before was gone, replaced by a clean American accent steady, confident, and polished.

This was the voice of someone who knew how to introduce herself, who had done it a hundred times before in offices like this. Professional and Controlled.

Yet when she said his name, his attention caught. The way her lips shaped Mr. Scott was slow and deliberate, and for a brief second he felt it rather than heard it, the sound echoing too close to memory, too close to skin.

Adrian turned slowly, and the air left the room. That same predatory smirk from the bar was back, sharper and more dangerous in the daylight. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up, Star. You're much more... professional... without the apron."

Star froze, her heart thundering. "You? You're the CEO? I thought I was interviewing the Head of Operations."

"I changed the schedule," Adrian said, walking toward her. He didn't just walk; he prowled. "I don't let just anyone write my story. Only those who... interest me."

He motioned to the leather chair.

Star sat in the plush leather chair, her legs crossed tightly to stop them from shaking. She clicked the recorder on, but Adrian wasn't looking at the device. He was looking at the way her white blouse strained against her chest every time she took a nervous breath.

"Right. First question," Star started, her voice a bit breathless.

"Your company is known for aggressive acquisitions. Do you ever feel guilty for taking what you want?"

Adrian leaned forward, his elbows on the obsidian desk. The movement brought him so close she could see the dark rings around his pupils.

"Guilt is a waste of energy, when I see something I want...a company, a piece of land...... " he paused, deliberately grazing his hand against hers, letting her feel his heat before reaching out to click the recorder off, plunging the room into a heavy, private silence.

"...a woman," he finished, his voice dropping into a dark, seductive growl.

He was leaning in now, his grey eyes searching hers, trying to pull her into the heat of his gaze.

With his hand still on hers, the loss of his heat feeling like a physical bruise ,he clicked the recorder back on, the red light mocking her with its professional glow.

"But as I was saying," Adrian continued, his face a mask of cold, perfect stone once more, "strategic growth is the only way to ensure market dominance."

Star felt the jolt of electricity from his touch, and for a split second, her heart betrayed her by skipping a beat.

But she didn't let the mask slip. She didn't find his arrogance romantic, and she wasn't flattered by his predatory attention.

Instead of melting, she pulled her hand back coldly, as if his touch had burned her. She reached out and clicked the recorder back on with a sharp, defiant snap.