Chapter 2 The Contract

CHAPTER TWO

Olivia was already awake.

Not by accident, but by force of habit now.

After last night's humiliating errand and the chill still lingering in her bones, she wasn't about to let Hayes catch her off-guard again.

By 6:30 a.m., she was dressed-crisp white blouse, sleek skirt, her heels giving her the illusion of power. Her hair was smoothed back, her lips pressed into a neutral line.

By 6:45 a.m., she was out the door, grabbing his usual coffee order from the café on 5th: black. No sugar. No room. No personality. Just like him.

By 7:20 a.m., she stepped into Haze & Co.

The building thrummed like a living thing. Phones ringing. Keyboards tapping. Shoes echoing across marble floors like gunshots. No one lingered. No one smiled.

She moved with the rhythm. Quick, efficient, silent.

At the front desk, Dana barely looked up.

"Mr. Hayes is waiting," she said, her tone clipped.

Of course he was.

Olivia smoothed the front of her skirt and made her way to his office.

Hayes didn't glance up when she entered.

His office was still intimidating-floor-to-ceiling windows, the entire city beneath him. Every piece of furniture screamed wealth without warmth.

He was flipping through a file, fingers drumming against the desk like a warning.

"You're late," he said flatly.

She blinked. "I-"

His hand lifted. Just that.

A single gesture. Enough to silence her.

She bit her tongue and approached, placing the coffee gently on the desk.

He took a sip.

And immediately spit it back out.

The sharp splash of hot liquid hitting polished wood made her flinch.

His jaw tensed. He set the cup down like it had insulted him personally.

"What the hell is this?"

Olivia swallowed. "I got it from the usual café-same barista, same order."

He leaned back, folding his arms slowly. "So now it's their fault?"

"No, I'm just saying-"

"I didn't ask what you were saying."

His voice was cold steel. Each word polished and unforgiving.

Then, without looking at her, he reached for a thick file on the desk and slid it toward her.

"Here. Read it."

Olivia hesitated. Then picked it up.

Her eyes moved across the first page.

Then the second.

And then she stopped.

Breath caught. Heart locked.

$100 billion.

Her voice cracked. "This... this can't be right."

"It is," Hayes said.

"This is more than the company's entire liquidity. If this doesn't go through-"

"It will."

"But if it doesn't-"

He looked up, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Do you think panicking helps?"

Her lips parted. "I just think we should be careful-"

"There are rules. Guidelines. Legal channels-"

"Rose," he interrupted. The name stung.

"It's Olivia," she said quietly.

But he continued, ignoring her correction.

"You're not here to challenge the deal. You're here to prep the papers and hand them to me before the meeting."

Her grip on the folder tightened.

"There are laws," she murmured.

Now he stood. Slowly. Deliberately.

Came around the desk. Stopped just short of her personal space.

"You're not a lawyer, Olivia. You're an assistant."

He smiled, cold and calculated.

"Don't forget your place."

The boardroom was already filled with men in tailored suits, their expressions unreadable.

No greetings. No warm-ups. No idle chatter.

Just silence.

Hayes slid the contract forward.

They signed.

Page after page. Without hesitation. Without reading.

Olivia stood stiffly beside him, her chest tight.

$100 billion. Just like that.

She turned to Hayes, trying to read his expression.

But he was already looking at her.

"You should get used to this," he said simply.

Her stomach twisted.

For the first time, she understood just how far out of her depth she really was.

After the meeting, there was no break. No breath.

Hayes leaned back against his desk, arms folded across his chest.

"Rose," he said.

She flinched. "It's Olivia."

"From now on, you'll be in every meeting. Every call. Every deal."

His tone made it sound like a punishment, not a promotion.

Her mouth went dry. "Sir, I-"

"You're not negotiating," he said flatly. "Your job is to make sure I never walk into a room unprepared. I don't do chaos. And neither do you."

She straightened. "Understood."

He nodded once, then waved her off. "You can go."

She pressed the elevator button, head spinning.

But as the doors opened, he stepped out.

The man from the car.

Tall. Dressed in black. Calm. Unbothered.

And that scar-just beneath the collar of his shirt.

Recognition slammed into her.

She froze, her mouth opening before her brain caught up.

"Hey," she called, voice unsure.

He didn't stop. But his eyes-dark and quick-flicked toward her for a split second.

She stepped in front of him.

"Wait-I know you. From last night."

He paused. Barely. Then:

"Do you?"

She folded her arms. "Yeah. You drove me home."

His expression didn't shift. "Right."

"That's it? Just... 'right'?"

He gave her a faint glance. "What else is there?"

Her pulse quickened. He wasn't rude, exactly-but he wasn't curious either. Like none of it mattered.

"Do you work here?"

He glanced around. "No."

Then just like that, he checked his watch.

"I've gotta go."

And walked past her like nothing had happened.

She stared after him, questions swarming. But there were no answers.

Not yet.

And something told her-this wasn't the last time she'd see him.

Or the last time she'd regret it.