LA

of the internal phone is a summons, a leash being yanked. I close my eyes for a f

. Professio

nderson speaking." My voice i

aham's voice comes through the speaker, low and devo

lease, no thank y

deliberate, cruel game to watch me fail on my first day. Panic, cold and familiar, tries to c

hrobbing ache that starts in my lower back and radiates down my thighs. I ignore it. My min

puter screen ticks

en two massive reports. It feels different. Heavier. I pull it out. The co

inute

from crying out. My new heels click a frantic rhythm on the marble floor as I hurry towards the

let. He doesn't look up. His office is like him-vast, cold, and intimidating

till on the screen. He taps a manicured fi

ollar of my blouse, slightly askew from my rush, reveals the very top of

ick up. Just for a second. His gaze is sharp, ca

ing smirk tou

m, Ms. Henderson," he says, his voice a lo

ttering the papers inside. "This is a mess. The data needs to be re-collated a

nd suffocating. He's enjoyin

on't say a word. I just nod, turn, and walk out, the

es turn white. My nails dig into the polished surface. I wan

it down and

As I stare at the glowing screen, the numbers and words

d drif

od with his arm wrapped around Penelope Sharpe. She pointed at me and laughed, and he looked away. That was

bind it, and brew a cup of black coffee, just how the file on his preferences said

offee, his fingers brushing mine. A jolt, like a spark of ele

cup. He doesn't say anything about the report. He just stares, his gaze in

dule for the week," I stammer, d

me off. "The Blackwood gala.

ipping out before I can stop t

ungs ache. It's his Alpha aura, a silent, crushing force. "The contract, Ms. Henderson.

He's reminding me

hair falling forward to hide my face.

ure lifts. "A car will be

I feel like a fly caught in a spider's web

mble as I open my purse and take out a small bottle of ibuprofen. I

jamin, from the legal department. We'd exchanged a few words when I first started, nothing more

rn as she takes in my pale face and the bottle of pills in my h

I present the image of a simple girl, overwhelmed but g

neck, where the concealer must be failing to fully hide the marks. Her eye

r voice stripped of the casual chatter she'd sta

t's been so long since anyone offered me anything with

s my arm gently, and l

ew York sky. I came here for revenge. I wa

jumped into

out, my heart sinking as I see the name on the screen. A n

sentence that makes the cold

was catching up. And I was