Chapter 4 3

Lucas

My name is Lucas Reed and that's exactly the name.

The name people obeyed, feared, or whispered behind closed doors. It was mine. A name that carried weight, power and, right now, a serious headache.

Because history has a way of sticking to you.

My stepbrother had been CEO before me. Brandon Reed. He was brilliant, charismatic... and just had to be utterly destroyed by his own demons. He was into drugs and fraud. He had scandals that still lingered in the corners of this building. He had left a mess bigger than most people realized. I had inherited not just the throne, but a kingdom of chaos.

And I was supposed to step into it gracefully.

I stepped off the elevator, expecting the ritual: the staff lined up, polite smiles, admiration dripping from every corner. Everything staged to remind them who ran this place.

And then I saw her when I stepped out of elevator

Her hair was pinned neatly, a few rebellious strands brushing her cheek and she looked up.

She casted a glance at me and my chest tightened.

Her face.

It looks so familiar. My mind tried to place it. I frowned. Who the hell is that?

Her eyes met mine, sharp, clear and unflinching. Then, as if she hadn't just knocked the wind out of me, she walked away.

Focus, Lucas. Fucking focus.

My eyes followed her down the hall, trying not to replay her facetoo many times. The tilt of her head, the way she carried herself with precision yet ease... everything else in the lobby blurred. I shook my head.

By the time I reached my office, the door clicked shut behind me. I removed my jacket and slumped on my chair Everything was in place except my brain, which refused to leave her behind.

I needed answers.

The staff list sat neatly on my desk. It had pictures, names, titles. emails. It was standard procedure for someone taking over Altura Group. Everything was in its place except the sinking feeling that I was already screwed.

I flipped through the photos, scanning casually and then I froze.

Her face was staring back at me.

Lena Hart. Personal Assistant to the CEO. My PA.

I dropped the list and then threw my head back and laughed. I recognized her. Even to me, it sounded a little insane. Of course. Of course this had to happen.

The woman I'd fucked with last night, the one who left $200 on the pillow for a reason that still amused me and the woman who was the best sex of my entire life, was now going to be part of my life, professionally.

I leaned forward, tracing her photo.

I ran a hand through my hair. Altura Group, fucking deadlines, decisions, my father's expectations and Brandon's mess. It was all meaningless compared to the problem standing one floor down in heels.

I laughed again, darker this time. I was fucked.

Flashes of last night hit me: the club, neon lights cutting through smoke, the bass rattling my chest. I had gone there to drink myself into oblivion, my mother's death anniversary and, as usual, my family hadn't remembered or cared.

And then I saw her.

She didn't belong there. Not in a million years.Her outfit was all shades of wrong for a club, her hair pinned like she was heading to a meeting and heels that looked like they were designed to stab the floor rather than dance on it. Honestly, I wondered why the bouncer had let her in, maybe he had a death wish, or maybe the universe just had a really twisted sense of humor.

And yet... she caught my goddamn eyes.

A knock came at the door, polite but insistent.

"Come in," I responded.

A knock came at the door, polite but insistent.

"Come in," I said, keeping my voice smooth, calm, and CEO-perfect.

The door opened.

And there she was, like a perfectly wrapped disaster I couldn't look away from.

Lena Hart.

She stopped for a fraction of a second, eyes flicking down, then back up, perfectly composed, professional. Every instinct screamed at me to act like a CEO, but my brain sort of freaked out the moment I saw her.

Her lips were full and soft, flashed through my mind, pressed against mine just nine hours ago, daring me to throw every rule of decorum out the window.

Her chest, her breasts that I had studied far too thoroughly for someone with a supposedly functioning brain. For a heartbeat, I forgot she was my PA. I forgot everything except that she existed, and that she looked like a problem I very much wanted to solve in every possible way.

"Mr. Reed," she said carefully but her hands twisted slightly in her lap, betraying the slightest tremor.

I gestured toward the chair. "Please... sit."

She lowered herself gracefully, her knees together, and hands folding neatly on her lap and yet... a quiver in her fingers, the tiniest hitch in her breath, made my pulse spike. I may or may not have grinned like an idiot.

"Lena Hart sir. I'm your personal assistant," she added, finally giving her full name.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the mask settle. There was no need to jump the gun or make her feel awkward.

"We'll be working closely together," I said, extending my hand. "I expect great things from you."

Her hand met mine, it was warm, firm, slightly tense. I let it linger just long enough to make her notice the heat in my palm.

"We will," she said softly.

I tilted my head, smirk tugging at my lips. "Good. I have no doubt."

Her eyes flicked up at me, just for a second, hesitation swimming in them.

"You... seem familiar," I said, letting my voice thread with amusement.

Her eyes widened and then bit the corner of her lip, a small, nervous gesture that made me want to lean across the desk and see if she'd really do it again.

"I-I don't... I don't think so, sir," she stammered.

"No?" I said, letting my smirk deepen. "You look like someone I remember."

"Sir, I don't think I...."

"I'm kidding," I quipped in,"I guess my sense of humor is bad."

She didn't dignify yhat witu a response so I continued.

"You're unusually composed," I said, pacing slowly behind the desk, letting the tension build. "Most people wouldn't hold themselves together this well... not in front of me."

Her gaze lifted. "I... I like to maintain professional boundaries," she said.

I couldn't help it, I smirked. "Good. That will serve you well. Especially with me."

I leaned slightly closer, letting the tension hang between us. "We're going to make a great team, Lena. You'll see... sooner than you think."

Her lips parted, a faint flush creeping up her neck, her eyes flickering with hesitation. "I-I... I'll do my best, sir."

I watched as she stood up to leave and bowed before turning around, I let my gaze drift, it wasn't not crude, not obvious but deliberate down the curve of her back, the sway of her hips. Her ass was ... completely, ridiculously, impossibly irresistible.

Last night's memory hit me in full force, her fingers brushing mine, her hands tracing circles on my chest, the way she had moved, trembled. My chest tightened. My brain tried to remind me I was in control. But right now? I was hopelessly, gloriously, absurdly down bad for Lena Hart. And the best part?

I realized I wouldn't be able to forget about that ass or her...for a single damn second.