Eleanor, my personal assistant, stood before my desk with her straight face holding her tablet like a shield. The scar on her right hand peeks from under her sleeve.

"Mr Cade, the final contracts from the Singapore merger are ready on your desk for..." Her voice trailed away.

And.." she continued, her voice cutting through the fog in my brain, 

"The new historian for the Thorne's family collection will be arriving at the estate this afternoon, Your calendar is blocked for the initial walk-through with her tomorrow morning." Can she stop talking already I thought.

I recalled the events of Friday night, about a private lounge, dim light, muffled music, the faint scent of vanilla, big doe eyes, dark curls that felt like silk between my fingers, and a mouth that had been innocent and devastatingly skilled. 

How could I forget the shock in her eyes when she'd bumped into me, the desperate, clumsy kiss she'd used as an excuse to chase that oaf. Her boldness... the way she'd taken control, her hips rolling in my lap, the whispered slurred "I'm damn good at what I do."

Fuck... I hadn't been able to get her out of my head since Friday, I didn't even know her name. 

She'd been a ghost, a beautiful secret that vanished with the sunrise. I'd woken up alone in the lounge. She left behind a flowery scrunchie on the floor which I'd pocketed like a fool.

"Mr. Thorne, are you listening?" she asked pointedly,  adjusting her glasses.

"What?..." I blinked, dragging my gaze from the doorframe to her unamused face.

"Your flight to Zurich," she said, her tone cold implying this wasn't the first time she'd said it. "The car leaves at ten you  really need to go."

"Oh Zurich," I answered 

My meticulously planned schedule. I ran a hand over my face, the day-old stubble rough against my palm, the same stubble that she'd...

Focus Cade, I thought inwardly.

"Thank you, Eleanor," I said, pushing back from the desk and standing. I grabbed my suit jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged it on, my mind shifting to the end of the trip.

I was halfway to the door, buttoning my cuffs, when it swung open.

"Ah, Miss Campbell, Mr. Thorne was just on his way out." But the words died in the air.

I looked up with shock in my eyes as the world stopped.

There, in the doorway of my office, haloed by the bright lights of the reception area, stood my mysterious one-night stand.

She was dressed for business now, in a sophisticated, tight, cream-colored blouse and a dark skirt that accentuated her curves, a portfolio clutched tightly in her hands. 

The sparkly dress and smudged mascara were gone. Before me stood the same eyes, wide and intelligent, now filled with a profound, almost comical horror.

Her lips parted in shock.

The memories of Friday night crashed over me in a heated wave. The feeling of her porcelain skin beneath my fingers, the taste of her lips on mine, the sounds she'd pulled from me all came rushing like a flood.

A slow, predatory smile spread across my face. So, this is what you look like in the daylight, gorgeous Miss Campbell, I thought inwardly.

Eleanor looked between us with furrowed brows. "Mr. Thorne, this is Isla Campbell, the historian you hired for the family collection. Miss Campbell, your boss, Cade Thorne."

All thoughts of Zurich, investors, and my schedule evaporated-a new, far more enticing plan thickened in my mind.

I took a step towards her, my gaze not leaving hers, letting her see the memory of that night burning in my eyes. 

"Miss Campbell," I said, my voice booming.

"What a... tremendous surprise."

The flight could wait. This was more important. I was going to explore every single fascinating inch of my history and I was going to start right now.

ISLA'S POV:

This is it, Isla, do not screw this up, I said to myself as I smoothed my hands down my skirt. The portfolio in my hand felt like a lifeline; it was my proof that I belonged here, that I was a professional in my field.

Chin up, I smiled to myself.

I approached the receptionist, who offered a perfectly polite cold smile. "Isla Campbell for Mr. Thorne. I have an appointment to see Eleanor. I'm the new historian."

"Of course, Miss Campbell Eleanor is expecting you; Come right this way." She led me down a silent hallway as my heels clicked a rhythm that sounded far too loud in the quiet hallway.

Confidence, Isla. You earned this.

We stopped before a door of frosted glass. The receptionist pushed it open. "Eleanor, Miss Campbell is here."

I stepped inside, my eyes taking a second to adjust. And then my world tilted on its own.

It wasn't Eleanor that my gaze found first but the man striding toward the door buttoning the cuffs of a shirt that probably cost more than my student loan payments. The same face I'd seen etched against the dim light of a private lounge.

My heart didn't just skip a beat; it performed a frantic, nervous tap dance against my ribs. The air rushed from my lungs in a silent, horrified gasp. The portfolio slipped in my suddenly damp grasp.

No. It's not possible. It can't be him.

But it was. Those same intense, dark stormy eyes, now wide with shock that mirrored my own. The same mouth that had... oh god!!

Every mesmerizing detail of Friday night crashed over me not as a heated wave. The feel of his hands on my waist. The taste of expensive whiskey. The way I'd brazenly climbed into his lap, fueled by liquid courage and a desperate need to forget my own name. The things that I'd whispered.

"I'm damn good at what I do"...

The memory echoed in my head, taunting me. 

His shock melted away, replaced by a slow, predatory smile. It was a look that saw right through my cream-colored blouse and professional facade, straight back to the messy, reckless girl in the sparkly dress. He looked... thrilled.

The woman behind the desk, Eleanor, I presumed, was speaking, her voice fuzzy and distant, as if heard from underwater. "...Isla Campbell the historian... Miss Campbell, your boss Cade Thorne."

Cade Thorne. My boss. The reclusive, notoriously demanding billionaire whose family's art collection I was meant to curate-the man I had... oh no. No, no, no.

My face flamed like a rabbit frozen in the path of a wolf. Every single instinct in my body screamed at me to run.

He took a step toward me, his gaze pinning me in place. It was a look full of possession and a dark, promising amusement. He let me see the memory burning in his eyes, and I knew, with terrifying certainty, that he remembered everything.

 "Miss Campbell. What a... tremendous surprise"  his voice, deep and resonant and exactly as I remembered it, boomed in the quiet office."

The flight could wait. This was more important. I was going to explore every single fascinating inch of my history and I was going to start right now.

I couldn't breathe. This wasn't a career opportunity; it was a beautifully furnished trap.

Eleanor's voice, laced with confusion, finally cut through my state of shock. "Mr. Thorne, your car is waiting. Shall I... show Miss Campbell to the library at the estate to begin her introductory review?"

Cade's eyes-Mr. Thorne's eyes didn't leave mine for a long, terrifying second.. Finally, he gave a subtle, almost invisible nod.

"Yes," he said, the word a low rumble. "Show her everything, I'll be along shortly." The promise in his tone wasn't a lie. This wasn't over yet, it had merely just begun.

He strode past me, followed by a gush of sandalwood that surged back forbidden memories, and the air he displaced felt charged. 

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with a very confused Eleanor.

I stood there quivering, my professional composure shattered at my feet.

Eleanor cleared her throat, adjusting her glasses as she looked at me with new curiosity. "Right," she said, her tone cooler than before. "Shall we, Miss Campbell? The car is downstairs. I'll give you a brief overview on the way to the estate."

I could only nod mutely, my mind screaming one single, coherent thought.

I am so utterly, completely, and professionally doomed.

The Thorne's library was located on the West wing of the mansion behind a dark heavy oak door filled with the rich comforting aroma of old books. The shelves were adorned in rich mahogany which stretched towards the glass ceilings. Light rays poured through the massive arched windows brightening the dust specks that drifted lazily in the air. The scent of old parchment, polished wood, and faint sandalwood from Cade's cologne clung to the room, seeping into me like a memory I didn't want to acknowledge.

"This is where you'll spend most of your time, Miss Campbell." Eleanor's clipped voice dragged through the quiet room. She pointed to a polished oak desk set in front of the grand windows. "Cataloguing, restoring, documenting... you'll have everything you need."

Her words barely landed. My mind was too loud, echoing with the sound of Cade's voice in his office, his dark, hungry gaze when he recognized me.

 "Excuse me, Mr. Thorne requires me elsewhere. You'll be fine here until the staff comes with coffee," she said as she lifted her face from her phone. 

I nodded quickly as I clutched my portfolio against my chest. "Of course, thank you, Eleanor."

She paused, giving me a quick look before sweeping out, the click of her heels fading down the marble hallway..

The air in the library was cool, accompanied by the quiet of a room untouched for decades. I moved towards the oak desk as my nerves began to settle until I felt the change of air, the smell of cigar and sandalwood. Sweat ran along the back of my neck as I nervously turned slowly, seeing my boss against the doorframe; hands in his pockets, broad shoulders filling the space with impossible command. His tie was loosened now, his jacket gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone which exposed the sharp line of his throat and Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. This made me clutch my thighs instinctively.

"Admiring my family's history?" Cade asked.

My breath caught in my throat. "I... I was just browsing through."I stuttered and cleared my throat.

He pushed off the doorframe, his steps slow, deliberate. "There are other things you might want to feel."He muttered walking towards me not breaking a single eye contact

Immediately my throat tightened. "Mr. Thorne, I'd prefer  we kept things professio..."

"Professional?" he completed, saying the word like it was foreign.

 His gaze locked on mine as he circled the desk, his body heat skimming against me even before he was close enough to touch. 

"Tell me, Isla; was what you did to me in that lounge professional?"

 "That was... a mistake. I'd had too much to drink."I said trembling

"Mm." He stopped in front of me, so close I could smell him...whiskey, sandalwood, and something distinctly male. I took a step back but his hand shot out caging me in, pulling me closer while his palm flattened on the desk beside my hip.

"You don't get to pretend that it didn't happen, Campbell," he murmured, his voice low, hot against my ear. "Not when I close my eyes and all I can see is you".

"Cade..."My hands clenched tighter around the portfolio. His name slipped out of my lips before I could stop myself.

"Say it again," he ordered.

"Cade..." I repeated, softer this time, trembling.

His free hand slid to my waist, fingers curling into my blouse, tugging me closer. I could feel his hard dick pressed against mine, as his body pinned me against the desk.

"You want to play professional?" he whispered, his breath burning my skin, "but your body says something else."

"No..." I protested weakly, but my voice betrayed me.

"Yes." His hand moved lower, gripping my hips firmly. 

"You're trembling Isla, not because you're scared but because you want me."He said cockily.

Before I could deny it, his fingers slipped under the hem of my skirt, trailing upward along the sensitive inside of my thigh making my knees buckle.

"Sir... we can't."

"Watch me," he growled, his mouth brushing my jaw, lips grazing the shell of my ear.

I bit my lip hard almost drawing blood, the only sound escaping my throat was a hopeless whimper as his hand found the lace of my panties. His thumb pressed firmly against the thin fabric, right over the aching throb of my clit. My head fell back against the desk, a sharp gasp ripping from my throat.

"Fuck... you're already wet," he rasped, voice thick with hunger. "For me."He added with a smirk

His fingers pushed past my lace as his thumb circled my clit, slow and deliberate, and I nearly let out a scream

"Cade..." My protest turned into a moan.

"Say my name while I ruin you," he ordered, slipping two thick fingers inside me with a force that made me cry out. My walls clenched hard around his fingers...a greedy, weak response I couldn't mask.

The slippery sound of his fingers thrusting into me filled the quiet library mixing with my ragged breathing while his other hand gripped my chin, forcing my gaze to him. "Look at me, don't you dare close your eyes."

I obeyed, my body arching off the desk, every nerve lit, emotions heightened.

His gaze burned into mine, fierce and consuming, as if this were a claim.

"You're mine...Isla," he growled, pumping his fingers faster, deeper, curling just right to make me explode. "Every time you fight me, every time you try to pretend you're not, I'll remind you like this."

My hips rolled helplessly against his hand, my eyes moving to the back of my head, chasing the pleasure I swore I didn't want.

"Fuck... Cade, please" I dragged.

"Begging already?" His smile was dark.  His thumb pressed harder against my clit, his rhythm relentless. "That's it. Let go. Come on daddy like the good girl you are."

My ears perked to "daddy", unable to hold it, I let it out. My orgasm ripped through me every muscle locking, my cry muffled against his chest as wave after wave tore me apart.

Cade continued to pump his fingers, he didn't stop until I was a shaky, breathless mess collapsed against the desk. He finally withdrew his moist glistening fingers which he brought to his lips as he sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Still professional huh?" he murmured smirking. "Tell me again, how are you going to keep this professional?"

I couldn't answer as my legs were weak and my voice was gone. My body is still trembling from his touch.

He leaned down, lips touching mine but not kissing, leaving me desperate for more.

"This is just the beginning," he said, then stepped back, leaving me ruined and wanting on the edge of the oak desk, still craving his touch.

Standing behind the doorframe, neither Cade nor I heard the camera flick.

The second I stepped into Sabrina's apartment, I dropped my bag and collapsed dramatically onto her velvet couch.

"Tell me everything, how was the first day of work," she demanded, handing me a glass of wine before I'd even taken off my shoes.

I groaned, "It was... a lot."

Sab raised a brow. "That's not a real answer. You met him, didn't you?" she said moving towards me while stroking my curls 

I took a long fortifying sip before answering. "Yes. Cade Thorne. My boss, New York's Adonis, is every woman's dream.  And he is every bit as dangerous as the rumors said."

Her eyes widened. "Dangerous-hot or dangerous-dangerous?"

"Both." I sank deeper into the cushions. "The library is unreal, Sab. Like something out of a gothic dream, mahogany shelves, frescoed ceilings, the works were all first editions. But the second I was alone, he showed up in some white sleeves unbuttoned, muscles popping with large veins, and"

"SLUT!!!"Sab smacked my arm giggling

Sab's mouth curled into a knowing smirk. "Let me guess. He happened  to drop by for a casual chat?"

"If by chat, you mean eye contact that could set my pussy on fire? Then yes, we chatted."

Her laughter was sharp. "God, I'm living for this already. What did he say or do?"

"He asked if I was admiring his family's history." I mimicked his low, velvety, teasing tone, then blushed at the memory of our library hanky-panky.

 "Sab, he stood so close I could feel his breath. He's like... fierce, sexy, Intense. He says the kind of things that make your knees buckle"

"Girl," Sab grinned, swirling her wine. "You are royally screwed."

"Urgh, I wanna keep it professional, but I can't, I don't think straight when he's near me".I said as my voice lowered.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table. I peeked at the screen and froze.

My stomach dropped and flipped at the same moment. "It's him."

Sab scrambled over beside me, her wine forgotten. "Put it on speaker," she instructed

"Absolutely not." My heart rammed against my ribs threatening to burst out as I stood and walked to the balcony, my cheeks pink and hurting from blushing. My thumb hovered over the green icon, then I took a breath and answered.

"Mr. Thorne," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, curt, and professional.

"Isla." His voice was velvet over smoke. "Eleanor's called in sick."

"Oh," I blinked. "I hope she's alright."

"She'll live and that leaves me without a handler for the Drenmoor art auction."

"Oh..."I gulped, my throat tight.

 You're coming with me."He cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I blinked. "The art auction in Marseilles?"I. questioned

"Yes Isla, we leave at six, pack light"

My heart skipped a beat. "Of course, sir."

He was quiet for a beat too long. "Isla."

"Yes sir?"

"Bring something that makes you..."He paused as if I could hear him selecting his words.

"Never mind Isla, have a great night"

The line went dead but I continued to stare at my phone as it had just whispered secrets to me.

Sab popped her head out. "What was that look?"

"He said to bring something that makes me feel powerful."

She gaped, then squealed. "You're flying to France with your tall, brooding boss who may or may not want to undress you with his tongue."

I didn't answer. My mind was already racing.

Three days alone with Cade Thorne.

God help me.

CADE'S POV:

She smelled like vanilla and books. The moment I leaned against that library doorframe and saw Isla Campbell tracing her fingers over the edge of my desk, I knew I was in trouble.

But I was the one who broke first. The way she trembled when I got close, the way her lips parted like she was already halfway to moaning my name...

She says we have to be professional, but the way her body reacted otherwise

Now, I had three days to prove it.

When Eleanor called in sick, I didn't hesitate. I told Isla she was coming. The auction was the perfect excuse. 

But I'd barely hung up the phone when the real complication arrived.

My stepbrother. My rival in everything that mattered...business, reputation, and legacy. None other than Lucan Thorne.

The moment we stepped into the Drenmoor estate's atrium, Lucan appeared like a devil conjured from smoke and salt. Tall, sharp-suited, smirking, and already looking at her like she was dessert to devour.

"Well, well," he said smoothly, his eyes raking over Isla with a slow, appreciative gaze. "You've finally found taste, Cade. Who's this?"

"My historian," I said tightly.

Isla offered her hand politely, and Lucan took it, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "I'm fascinated and lucky me,  I'll be spending the next few days surrounded by beauty and intellect. A rare combination".

I stepped between them before she could respond. "We're here to work, Lucan"

He just smiled that infuriating smile. "Of course. Just don't be surprised if she decides she prefers someone with better manners."

He walked off, the scent of cologne and challenge trailing behind him.

I turned to Isla. She was watching Lucan, brow furrowed, lips parted in curiosity

"Don't trust him," I said, voice low.

"Is that professional advice?"A flicker of defiance in her voice as she asked teasingly.

"No, Isla," I said, eyes locked on hers. "That's personal."

IN THE HOTEL

"You need to stay away from Lucan, he is trouble" Cade yelled holding both my shoulders not hurting but firm.

"Why..."i stuttered 

"He looked nice and..."

"You listen to me when I give you orders Isla, I am your boss and employer"

Cade's voice boomed across the room shaking me to my core, his eyes red and not blinking, jawline hard. I could see he was visibly angry, something was up and I was going to find out.

I stormed out of his room, before twisting the doorknob, Cade called on me but boss or not, he doesn't get to yell at me as he did.

"Goodnight sir," I said loud enough for him to hear as I stormed out of his room, while the tears threatened to roll down my cheeks.

ISLA'S POV:

"Urggggghhhh" I groaned falling backwards on my bed, the plush duvet swallowing me

Despite my anger, a thread of guilt wove through me storming out of his room was unprofessional. He's my boss and my...

"Aaaaaahhhhhhhh, don't want to think about him anymore" I yelled into my pillow.

I tossed and turned trying to find the best part of the bed that would make me fall asleep. Every position felt constricting. I'm hot and bothered, and all I could think of was those heated glances, every low flirty word muttered from some hot male one room apart.

Frustrated, I roughly tied my robe and wore my flip-flops as I walked out of my room, I needed water, maybe some air.

 I yanked open my door and was immediately met with the smell of sandalwood.

My boss stood before me with gray sweatpants, wet hair dripping onto his bare broad shoulders.

I clenched my thighs together.

The world be damned at this point.

CADE POV:

Why did I yell at her like that? She looked so scared. I need to apologize and explain to her calmly.

"Isla, I'm sorry I..." too weak.

"Miss Campbell, just listen to instructions and we are good..." too authoritative

I cleared my throat," Next time, be a good girl for daddy and..."

I dragged a hand over my face." Get a grip, Thorne".

"I need to fix this now,"

I dragged myself to the shower for a quick bath, throwing on some sweatpants to go see my... my what actually?

Getting to her door, I knocked softly and twisted the doorknob only to be met by a familiar scent that went straight to my groin.

Vanilla.

She looked heavenly as the light filled her face. Her skin shone, her doe eyes had an expression I couldn't decipher, her plump lips parted, and her curly hair cascaded down to her waist.

Damn...I never knew her hair was that long. It was always in a tight bun. Her nipples hardened in her flimsy robe which did no justice in trying to conceal them, and I felt my briefs tighten.

She cleared her throat, bringing me back to reality

I stared at her and started:" I..."

"I'm sorry..."We chorused together.

"All right go first," I said

She started to speak and all I could do was stare at her lips as her words trailed into the night.

Damn everything she's saying, her apology, I don't care anymore 

"Isla," I said, stopping her from talking 

"Yes...Mr Thorne"

"Use those lips for something else"

Huh," I didn't let her think as I slammed my lips on hers, closing the distance between us.

Neither of us could hear the faint camera clicking as we were lost in our world.