ETHAN POV

I look up from my desk and almost choke.

I can't fucking believe it.

It's Lina. Fucking Lina Hayes.

And she's smiling like she belongs here. Like this is normal. Like she doesn't make my blood run hot just by standing there.

I remember. That night in Chicago. Every detail. The way she screamed my name, how she moved, how she made me lose all control. How I... almost...

I shake my head, forcing it down. Not now. Not here. Not in front of HR. Not in front of the other interviewer. I am Ethan Holt. I do not lose control. I do not.

Except I feel it. My dick hard against my trousers in a way I haven't felt since that night. And my hand twitches, my jaw tightens, and I fight to stay still.

I see her walking toward me, heels clicking, that nervous confidence I know too well. She looks professional. Polished. But I see the tiny tremor in her hand, the way her breath catches for a second. She's just as aware of me as I am of her.

HR clears his throat. "Mr. Holt?"

I nod, voice calm. "Yes. Go ahead."

She talks. She's sharp, smart, confident, but I can't focus. Every word she says just reminds me how much I want her. How much I want that night again. How much I want her body pressed against mine.

I almost... God, almost...

I shake myself again. No. I will not. I cannot. She is a candidate. She is applying for a job in my office. She will not be mine. Not now. Not ever.

And yet, every glance she gives me, every slight tilt of her head, every flicker of that old smirk, it hits me right in my bulging trousers.

I clear my throat. "Impressive," I say. Neutral. Professional. Just one word. But it's enough to make her pause. She's caught. I can see it. Relief? Recognition? Desire? Probably all of it.

HR nods. "Thank you, Ms. Hayes. That's all."

She stands. Smooth, controlled. But I catch the way her hand lingers on her bag. The way her hips move. The way she looks at me just long enough to remind me... everything.

I hold the door, trying to act calm. My heart is pounding. My body remembers. My mind remembers. The memory of her naked, of her heat, of her pussy, it's consuming me.

She steps out, and I exhale. I sit back down at my desk, trying to focus on anything else. Reports. Calls. Meetings. But none of it matters. She's here. She's in my building. And I can't stop thinking about what I shouldn't be thinking about.

I'm the CEO. I do not get distracted. I do not want an employee. I will not...

I try to shake it off, telling myself this is just temptation. She's beautiful, yes, but that night is over. I will not cross this line again. I cannot.

I glance toward the lobby again, pretending to check the security cameras. She's gone. But I know she'll be back, if she gets the job. And that thought should scare me. It should.

I run a hand over my face. Focus, Holt. Professionalism. She is an applicant. A candidate. That's it. She is not yours.

But my cock doesn't care. It remembers. It wants her. And that memory is sharp, so fucking sharp, it feels like a punch.

I lean back in my chair, close my eyes for a second, and let the memory flood me again. Her hands on me, the way she moaned, the way she didn't stop moving until she had me at my limit... Fuck. God, fuck.

I bite my lip. The room is silent except for the low hum of the AC and the occasional typing from my assistant down the hall. But inside me, it's chaos.

I remind myself again: She is not mine. She is not mine. She is not mine.

I open my eyes. My reflection in the glass of my office shows a calm, composed CEO. Nothing betrays the storm inside me. But I feel it. Every pulse. Every thrum of blood. Every twitch of my body. She does that to me. Lina Hayes does that to me. And she has no idea.

I shake my head and pick up a file to flip through. Try to look busy. Try to act normal. But I can feel my cock straining in my trousers again, and I have to clench my thighs together to keep it under control.

God, she's going to drive me insane.

I keep thinking about the next day after Chicago. How I tried to find her. Tried to call. Text. Social media. Nothing. And now here she is, in my office, trying to get a job as my secretary. My employee. The one person I absolutely cannot fuck.

And I want to. More than anything.

I run a hand down my face again, lean back, and close my eyes. This night, this temptation... it's going to be the hardest thing I've ever resisted. But I will. I have to.

I open my eyes when I hear footsteps again. It's my assistant. She drops off a report on my desk. I take it without looking up, focus on anything else to drown out the memory of Lina. The scent of her hair. The feel of her skin. The way she looked at me.

I remind myself again. She is a candidate. She is not mine. Not in Chicago. Not here. Not anywhere under this roof. I cannot let her make me forget that.

But God... my cock remembers. My mind remembers. My body remembers. And I know, deep down, she will haunt me every single day if she gets this job.

I run my hand over the desk, trying to ground myself. Focus, Holt. Professional. You are the CEO. You do not act on temptation. You do not lose control.

But I also know the truth. I will never forget her. Never.

And I still want her anyway.

Lina POV

I wake up before my alarm.

I don't even know if I actually slept. I spent half the night staring at the ceiling, replaying yesterday's interview. The way Ethan looked at me. The way he said impressive in that deep voice that did something terrible to my body.

And now... I'm hired.

I still don't know how to feel about it. Excited, nervous, terrified, all of it. But mostly, it's him. The man I thought I'd never see again. The one I had one insane, reckless night with in Chicago. The one who made me forget who I was.

Now, he's my boss.

I get to the office almost an hour early. HR told me I start at eight, but I wanted to look eager, professional, ready. Turns out, I'm not early enough.

Because when I step into the hallway leading to his office, his door's already open. And I see him sitting there.

He's behind a huge glass desk, sleeves rolled up, typing something on his laptop. His jaw's tight, expression hard. There's no trace of the man who once smiled against my neck, whispered filthy things in my ear.

He looks up.

"Morning," I say, forcing a smile.

His eyes flick up and down my outfit, a fitted black pencil skirt, a cream blouse, heels I can barely walk in. His expression doesn't change.

"You're late," he says flatly.

I blink. "It's..." I glance at my watch. "It's 7:45."

He leans back in his chair. "Exactly."

I swallow. "I was told to start at eight."

He stands up, slow. The chair creaks a little under him. And suddenly, he's walking toward me. Step by step.

God. He's taller than I remember. Broad shoulders. That same calm, quiet dominance that made me melt once.

"You should've come in earlier," he says, voice low, eyes locked on mine. "You want to impress me, don't you?"

"I...yes. Of course. I'm sorry."

He stops in front of me. Too close. I can smell him, wood, spice, something warm and expensive that makes my knees go weak.

He tilts his head slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make me forget how to breathe. "Next time," he says, "you'll add sir when you talk to me."

My lips part, but no sound comes out. I can feel my heart pounding so hard it hurts.

He's so close I can feel his breath on my cheek, warm and steady. His cologne wraps around me, thick and heavy. He looks down at me like he's remembering too. Like he's fighting it the same way I am.

I try to speak. "E...Ethan..."

He raises a brow. "That's Mr. Holt to you."

I nod quickly. "Yes... sir."

The corner of his mouth twitches, almost a smirk, but it's gone before it forms. He steps back just enough for me to breathe again.

"Good," he says. "You'll report directly to me. You'll assist with scheduling, communication, and any additional tasks I assign. Understood?"

I nod again. "Yes, sir."

"Say it clearly."

"Yes, sir."

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, like he's testing me. Then he turns, walking back toward his desk. The air between us feels electric, heavy, like something's been set on fire.

He sits down, not looking up again. "You can start by reviewing the quarterly reports on my desk. Make notes of any inconsistencies. Don't make mistakes."

"Yes, sir," I manage, even though my voice sounds like it's barely holding itself together.

I move toward the corner of the office where a smaller desk has been set up for me. My hands are shaking, so I clutch my bag to keep them steady. I can still feel his eyes on me, even though he's not looking.

This is fine, I tell myself. You're here for work. You can do this. It's just a job.

Except it doesn't feel like just a job. Not when every breath I take smells like him. Not when I can still feel the heat from where he stood. Not when my skin still remembers the feel of his hands from that night.

I sit down, open the folder on my desk, and try to focus. Numbers, charts, lines of data. It's useless. My brain is fried.

I sneak a glance at him.

He's focused on his screen, fingers moving fast on the keyboard, sleeves rolled just high enough to show strong forearms. His tie's loosened a little, and I remember what that used to mean. That night, when his tie ended up on the floor...

Stop.

God, I need to stop.

I force my eyes back on the papers, but my body doesn't listen. I can feel every nerve awake, every inch of me too aware of him.

I hear his voice suddenly, calm but sharp. "You're distracted."

I jerk my head up. "No, sir."

He studies me for a second, that unreadable expression still on his face. "You'll need to be better than that."

"Yes, sir."

He goes back to typing, but my cheeks are on fire.

It's ridiculous. I should not feel like this. Not after all this time. Not when I promised myself that night was a mistake.

But standing this close to him again, hearing that voice, smelling that cologne, it's like my body's betraying me.

Every second that passes feels too long. I can hear the faint hum of the AC, the clicking of his keyboard, the thud of my own heartbeat.

At one point, he stands again. He walks past me, just close enough that his sleeve brushes my shoulder. My breath catches.

He stops by the window, adjusts his cufflinks, then turns slightly toward me.

"You'll find I have high standards," he says, his tone softer now but still firm. "Don't make me regret hiring you."

I look up. "You won't, sir."

He holds my gaze again, and something flickers there. Something dangerous. Something that says he remembers too.

And maybe I imagine it...but for a second, it feels like he wants to say something else. Something he shouldn't.

Instead, he nods. "Good."

The silence after that feels endless. I keep pretending to read the files, but all I can think about is how his voice sounds when he says sir. How close he was. How easy it would be to reach out, to close that space, to kiss him like I did once.

But then I blink, and the fantasy fades. He's my boss. My untouchable, intimidating, insanely hot boss.

And I'm sitting here with my stupid heart racing like I'm seventeen again.

I press my pen to the paper, forcing myself to breathe. Be normal, Lina. Act normal.

But it's useless. Every time he moves, every time he speaks, my mind goes right back to him. His hands. His mouth. That night.

I almost laugh at myself. God, I'm so screwed.

He glances up again, probably noticing the smile I'm trying to hide.

"Something funny, Ms. Hayes?"

"No, sir," I say quickly, biting my lip.

He leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing just slightly, like he's trying to figure me out. Then he nods toward the papers. "Get to work."

"Yes, sir."

I drop my eyes back down.

He starts typing again, and the room fills with that soft rhythm...keyboard clicks, low breaths, silence.

And all I can think is how unreal this feels. How I'm supposed to act like a normal assistant when the man sitting a few feet away once made me lose my mind.

How I'm supposed to pretend I don't still feel him.

I exhale slowly, letting the words slip out under my breath, barely above a whisper.

"I have a crush on my boss."

Rhea POV

I didn't plan to stop by Ethan's office today.

But when your boyfriend has been canceling dinners for "late meetings" three nights in a row, you start to wonder what's keeping him so damn busy.

So here I am. In a fitted black dress, heels clicking across the marble lobby, trying to look calm while my stomach twists.

The receptionist greets me with that fake bright smile. "Good morning, Ms. Bennett."

"Morning," I say, smiling back. "Is Ethan in?"

"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Holt's in his office."

Of course he is.

I head straight for the elevator, checking my reflection in the glass doors. My makeup's perfect, lipstick still fresh, hair curled just right. No reason to look like the jealous girlfriend. Not yet.

The elevator dings open, and I walk out onto his floor. I know this place by heart, the glass walls, the quiet hum of printers, the smell of coffee and too much cologne.

But when I reach his office, I stop.

Because sitting at the little desk outside his door is someone I've never seen before.

She's young. Early twenties, maybe. Pretty in that clean, soft way that doesn't even try. Light makeup, glossy lips, and that nervous focus new employees have when they're trying too hard to be perfect.

I glance at the nameplate. Lina Hayes.

Cute name.

"Hi," I say, smiling. "You must be new."

She looks up, startled, and her eyes widen just a little. "Oh! Hi. Yes, I am."

Her voice is sweet. A little unsure.

I lean against the edge of her desk. "What's your position here?"

"I'm Mr. Holt's new Secretary," she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Of course she is.

I keep my smile steady. "Secretary. That's nice. How's your first week going?"

"It's... good," she says, nodding quickly. "He's very professional. Keeps things organized."

I almost laugh. Professional, huh?

Ethan can be professional when he wants to be, but I know the man behind the title, the one who gets possessive, controlling, sharp. The one who doesn't like surprises, except when he's the one making them.

And right now, the idea of him spending all day with this new assistant? Yeah, that's a surprise I don't like.

"Well, I'm glad it's going smoothly," I say. "I'm Rhea, by the way."

Her face lights up like she recognizes the name. "Oh, you're... his girlfriend?"

I smile, but it feels tight. "That's me."

"Oh," she says softly. "It's nice to meet you, Rhea."

"Nice to meet you too, Lina."

We stare at each other for a second. She seems genuine. Sweet. Probably too sweet for this kind of office. The kind of girl who thinks hard work and good manners get you far. The kind who doesn't realize men like Ethan notice everything, especially the things you don't mean to show.

"So," I say lightly, "how are you liking working for Ethan?"

She straightens in her seat. "It's... challenging. But I'm learning a lot."

"Challenging," I repeat with a small laugh. "Yeah, that's one word for it."

Her brow furrows a little, like she's not sure what I mean. "He's a good boss."

I nod, leaning a little closer. "He can be. Just don't take it personally if he gets... intense. That's his thing."

"I've noticed," she says quietly, smiling nervously.

I study her for a second. There's something about her tone. Not just nerves. Something else. A flicker in her eyes, like she knows more about him than she should.

I file it away.

"Well," I say, straightening, "you'll do fine. Just remember...Ethan likes people who follow instructions."

She nods. "I'll keep that in mind."

I give her one last smile, then knock on his door without waiting for her to announce me.

"Come in," he calls out.

I open the door and walk in, and his face actually softens when he sees me. "Rhea."

"Hi, baby," I say, walking over. "Surprise."

He stands and kisses me on the cheek, polite, a little distant. "Didn't expect you."

"Yeah, I figured," I say, glancing over my shoulder toward the door. "Didn't know you hired someone new."

"Lina?" he says, like it's nothing. "Started this week."

"She's pretty," I say, still smiling.

He looks at me for a second, expression unreadable. "She's good at her job."

"Of course," I say, brushing a bit of lint off his jacket. "I just didn't expect you to hire someone so... young."

"She was the most qualified," he says, sitting back down like that ends the conversation.

I don't push it. Not yet.

I just sit on the edge of his desk, crossing my legs slowly. "So, are you free for lunch today? Or should I assume another 'meeting'?"

He gives me a small smile. "Lunch sounds good."

"Good," I say, letting my hand slide over his tie. "You can tell me all about your new hire."

He gives me that warning look. The one that says don't start.

I pull back, still smiling sweetly. "Relax, Ethan. I'm kidding."

But I'm not.

Because when I walk out of his office a few minutes later, Lina looks up from her desk again.

And I see it. That same flicker. The one that says she's trying too hard not to look at the door I just came from.

I pause. "You'll do fine here," I tell her softly. "Just remember where you stand."

She blinks. "Sorry?"

I smile again, that same practiced warmth. "I mean, it's easy to get lost in this place. Everyone's trying to make an impression."

"Oh," she says, confused but polite. "Right."

I start walking away, heels clicking down the hall.

But inside, I'm seething.

Because I know what I saw in her eyes, that mix of fear and something else. Something dangerous.

And I know Ethan.

If he hasn't crossed that line yet, he's already thinking about it.