Chapter 2 Chepter 2

Aria slipped out of the suite before dawn, barefoot, heels in one hand, and her heart pounding from the chaos and fun of the night.

She didn't even think to look back.

No goodbyes were uttered. No numbers were scribbled. No promises to call were made.

That was the unwritten rule of one-night stands.

Yes, it was just perfectly what she needed.

But, as the city engulfed her once again, something strange stuck to her skin, which was as though part of her hadn't really left that room. Like his touch somewhere beneath her ribs still lingered.

She didn't know his name at all.

And he hadn't asked for hers.

That should in principle make forgetting him easier. But it didn't.

By noon, she had dashed into that tiny apartment she shared with two roommates, both of whom were never home. Dead dress. Barely double digits on the bank account. Phone exploding with messages from Tyler.

Delete all without reading.

Then she took a shower, a long one as never before.

As steam filled the bathroom, she braced against the tiles and let the heat drive away the memory of the stranger's hands. It did not work.

All of it came flashing back-dark eyes, calm command in his voice, heavy weight of his body over hers-just in flashes.

Who the hell is he?

And why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

She hadn't yet discovered the answer three days later.

For the better part of those three days, she was busy looking over job boards and sending the resumes into any openings that did not yell trap. Her present job as a waitress barely paid the huge rent, and she still had loans from college hanging over her head.

She needed something better.

Something different.

So when an agency called her out of nowhere and said they had an opening for an executive assistant with "serious upward potential," she didn't hesitate.

"Where is it?" she asked.

"Moretti Enterprises," the woman on the phone said. "Are you available for an interview tomorrow at 10 a.m.?"

Aria froze. "Moretti?"

"Yes. The CEO requested a quick turnaround. He personally selected your file."

Her stomach twisted.

It was not reasonable to suspect coincidence.

There were at the very least a thousand men in New York with the last name Moretti. But that didn't mean it was him.

She agreed to the interview anyhow.

What choice did she have?

She stood that next morning outside a gleaming black skyscraper with her resume in one hand and a knot of dread in her chest.

Get a grip, she told herself. Just a job interview; that's all it is.

She went into the building, heels clicking along well-polished marble floors, and checked herself in at the front desk. A sharp-looking receptionist greeted her with a badge and indicated the elevators.

"Top floor," said the woman. "CEO's office."

Aria's heart jumped. "I thought I was meeting with HR?"

"He prefers to do his own interviews," she said. "Go on up."

The elevator doors closed behind her, and Aria's stomach churned as it carried her quietly to the top floor.

She would know immediately once those doors opened.

Too sleek. Too quiet. Too familiar.

And then she saw him.

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the city like he owned it - which, technicall. he probably did.

Dark suit. Dark eyes.

The stranger.

Her stranger.

He turned slowly. Met her gaze.

No shock in his face. No confusion. Just a slow deliberate smile that made her entire body tense.

"Miss Bennett," he said smoothly. "You're early."

Her mouth fell open. Then fell closed. Her mind scrambled to find the appropriate thing to say. Neutral. Professional.

But all she could think was - what the hell is going on?

"You..." Her voice cracked. "You knew it was me."

"Certainly, I did." He glided toward her with the same calm, predatory grace he had possessed back then. "I have a special talent for reminding myself of pertinent things."

Aria forced herself to swallow. "Is this some kind of game for you?"

"No," he said. "But I don't believe in coincidences."

She glanced at the leather chair opposite his desk. "Am I actually here for a job?"

He smiled again. "That depends. Can you follow orders?"

Her breath caught. Heat flooded her skin. The memory of his voice whispering against her neck returned to her too fast, too bright.

"This is ridiculous."

"I'm not laughing."

There was a lengthy silence. The air quivered tension between them, stretched thin and heavy with unuttered words.

Then he lifted a file from his desk. Her file.

"Your references are solid. You're smart. You're efficient. You're capable." He looked back up at her. "You are exactly what I need."

"I won't sleep with you again."

"I didn't ask you to."

There was a buzz in the air.

"Why me?" she whispered, gazing into the abyss. "You could have any woman in this city."

He was almost close enough to cross an invisible line between business and personal territory.

"You walked away."

Aria blinked. "What?"

"That night," he whispered softly, "You left before I could stop you. No one walks away from me, Aria. And yet you did."

It was thumping in her ear: "That does not give you the right to mess up my life."

"I'm offering you a job. A real one. Full benefits. High pay. No expectations outside of professionalism."

"And if I say no?"

"Then you walk out of this room and crawl back to wait tables for $3.50 an hour."

He went over to his desk, settled himself in, and suddenly the power dynamics shifted.

"You've got ten seconds to decide."

Staring through him, her mind stormy.

This was crazy.

But the bills needed paying.

And something deeper, a voice more dangerous, was whispering that she wanted to see just how far this could go.

She inhaled.

Then sat down.

"Okay, I'll take the job," she affirmed.

His smile stretched slowly across his handsome face now. Satisfied. Dangerous.

"Very good," he said. "Welcome aboard Moretti Enterprises, Miss Bennett."