Now, Maya Elridge stood at the window of her shoebox apartment in a city that didn't know her name. She had come here to escape the wreckage, to rebuild what Ethan broke. Some days, she pretended it was strength that brought her here. Other days, she knew it was shame.
Her phone buzzed beside her coffee mug, she quickly glanced at her phone, the notification made her chest tighten. Maya quickly picked up her phone and read the contents of the notification.
FINAL INTERVIEW – VALERIO INDUSTRIES – 10:30 AM
Valerio Industries. Cold. Elite. Ruthless. Headed by a billionaire , man who was practically a myth.
Dante Valerio.
Maya had read every article, every quote. The CEO who crushed companies for sport. The man with a voice like smoke and eyes like steel. He wasn't supposed to see candidates this low on the ladder. But somehow, she'd made it to his desk.
She pulled on her blazer-black, fitted, a bit tighter than necessary, making her cleavage pop, almost too hard to hide. She wasn't dressed this way for him, but for her. Strength in silhouette. Confidence in a collar.
She'd never be a man's project again.
⸻
The Valerio building was a tower of glass and power. Maya passed security, nerves coiled tight under her calm facade.
"Thirty-second floor," the receptionist said. "Mr. Valerio will see you shortly."
Her ears rang. Mr. Valerio himself?
The elevator climbed in silence. Her reflection stared back at her in the chrome-stoic, unreadable. She barely recognized herself.
When the doors opened, the floor was silent, sleek. An assistant ushered her into a long office with floor-to-ceiling windows and a man standing like a shadow against the skyline.
He was on the phone.
"No," he said, voice calm but edged with steel. "Push the acquisition. If they fight it, we'll bury them."
He turned, and their eyes met.
Dante Valerio. And he was more devastating in person than any photograph.
He ended the call. "Miss Elridge."
She nodded. "Thank you for seeing me."
He sat, watching her like she was a chess piece.
"I've reviewed your file. You're overqualified for the position, which makes me suspicious. Why leave Wolfe & Wolfe without a reference?" He leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, waiting for her answer.
"I had personal reasons."
"I'm not interested in personal. I'm interested in useful."
He slid a folder toward her. "Fix this. Twenty minutes. Impress me."
Inside was a flawed investment proposal. On instinct, she quickly grabbed a pen and began editing.
When she passed it back, he skimmed it-fast, sharp. His expression didn't change, but something in his eyes shifted, he was impressed yet he managed to keep a cold and neutral reaction.
"You're fast. Sharp."
"I'm prepared."
"Prepared," he repeated, as if testing the taste of the word. "We'll be in touch."
⸻
Three days later, she got the job.
⸻
By the end of her first week, Maya learned that success at Valerio Industries demanded more than intelligence-it demanded blood. Long hours. Brutal deadlines. Eyes everywhere.
Dante rarely came to their floor, but when he did, she felt him. His presence didn't need words. Just the weight of his gaze across the room made her spine tingle. A silent question hung in the air between them. Her breath hitched. He was a bit of trouble, and she found herself curious, wondering what he wanted.
She told herself it meant nothing. That he barely remembered her name.
Until Friday.
⸻
A thunderstorm broke over the city. Most of her team had gone home early, but Maya stayed late, finishing a report Dante had requested personally.
The lights flickered.
"Working late?"
She jumped.
He was leaning in the doorway, soaked from rain, dark hair wet, his tailored coat dripping. He looked like a man pulled straight from a noir fantasy-dangerous, tired, and hauntingly magnetic.
"I wanted to finish this," she said, her voice tight.
He stepped in, glancing at the report. "You're the only one who finished it."
"I thought it was urgent."
"It was. Most wouldn't bother."
She met his gaze. There was something unreadable there. Curious. Intense.
"I like the way you think," he said.
She swallowed. "Thank you."
His eyes dropped to her mouth. "You're very... composed."
"I try to be."
"I wonder," he murmured, moving closer, "if you ever stop trying."
He reached for the paper on her desk. His fingers brushed hers-intentionally, she was sure of it. The contact sent a jolt through her.
She pulled her hand away, but not fast enough.
"I won't touch you without permission," he said softly. "But if you want me to stop-say it now."
The air between them pulsed.
She didn't speak.
He leaned in-slow, deliberate-and kissed her.
It wasn't gentle.
His mouth claimed hers with a confidence that made her gasp, a hunger that left no room for hesitation. Her hands clenched the edge of her desk. The kiss wasn't tender-it was scorching. Dangerous.
She kissed him back. Just once. Then broke away.
"We can't," she whispered.
He stepped back immediately, as if she'd commanded him.
"You're right."
His face hardened-cool and unreadable once more.
"I'll see you Monday."
He turned and left, leaving her breathless and trembling in a room that suddenly felt too small.
Outside, the storm raged.
Inside, Maya pressed her fingers to her lips, her mind spinning. She had sworn she'd never fall again, the air felt charged, her heart skipped. He was trouble, but she was intrigued
And yet-
There was a part of her already burning.
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