LINA POV

The second Rhea walks out, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

My chest feels tight, like I've been pretending to breathe for the past ten minutes. I grab my pen, pretend to jot something down, but my hand won't stop shaking.

She's even prettier in real life.

Not just the "Instagram pretty" kind either. She's the type of woman that walks into a room and everyone looks. Confident, perfect hair, soft voice, that easy way she stands like she's never had to try too hard.

I knew who she was before she said her name.

When I found out my boss was Ethan Holt, I'd done what any sane woman would do...I Googled him. CEO. Billionaire. Gorgeous. And very much taken.

Her name popped up right under his: Rhea Bennett. Marketing executive. Girlfriend. Society's golden couple.

So, no, it wasn't exactly a surprise when she showed up today.

I just didn't expect her to look like that.

And seeing her in person? It's different. Real. Painfully real.

Because I know what it feels like to have Ethan's eyes on me. To feel that heat. To remember his voice when it wasn't cold or professional but low, rough, whispering my name.

And now... he's hers.

I press my lips together and focus on the computer screen, typing something useless just to look busy. But my brain is running wild.

She'd smiled at me like she meant it, but I could feel it. That tension under the surface. That quick little scan women do when they size each other up.

The way her eyes lingered on my face just a second too long.

She knows.

Or maybe she doesn't.

But she feels it. The weird, invisible thing between Ethan and me.

And honestly? I hate that she has every right to.

She's the girlfriend. The one who gets to walk into his office like she belongs there. The one he can touch, kiss, take home. The one who doesn't have to pretend that one night never happened.

I swallow hard and glance at his door. It's closed now, the frosted glass hiding everything behind it. I can still hear a faint hum of his voice from inside. Calm. Steady. Professional. Like nothing ever happened between us.

He's good at that.

Good at pretending.

I sit back in my chair and close my eyes for a second. God, what was I thinking taking this job?

It's not like I could've known, but now that I'm here, now that I see him every day...it's torture.

The way he walks. The way he smells. The way his sleeves are always rolled up just enough to show those veins that shouldn't be so distracting.

And now knowing there's her....the picture-perfect girlfriend...it feels stupid to even remember that night.

But I do.

Every damn detail.

The hotel room. The city lights bleeding through the curtains. His hands. His voice. The way he looked at me like he'd been starving and I was the only thing left in the world.

I open my eyes and exhale. "Stop it," I whisper under my breath.

This is my job now.

This is my life now.

And I'm not that girl who sleeps with her boss.

Not anymore.

A notification pings on my screen, pulling me back to reality. A calendar reminder for some meeting I don't even care about. I click it away and stare at my reflection in the black corner of my monitor.

I look fine. Normal. But inside? I feel small. Like a walking secret I can't tell anyone.

Rhea probably went back to her office, perfectly calm. She probably laughed on her drive, maybe even texted him something flirty. And me? I'm sitting here trying not to remember how his mouth felt against my neck.

It's pathetic.

But I can't help it.

Because part of me, no matter how much I hate it, still wants him to look at me the way he did that night. To lose control again. To make me forget this whole stupid world.

And another part of me wants to run far, far away before I ruin everything.

The elevator dings somewhere down the hall, and I straighten up, pretending to work again. For all I know, Rhea could come back. Ethan could walk out. HR could stroll by.

I need to look composed. Professional. The kind of woman who belongs here.

Not the kind who spent one night with her boss and still dreams about it every time she closes her eyes.

The door to his office stays closed, but I can almost feel him behind it.

I know he feels it too. That tension. That same pull.

And it scares me.

Because I can already tell...this job is going to break me.

Ethan POV

"Send her in," I say into the intercom, my voice steady even though my pulse isn't.

A few seconds later, the door opens.

Lina walks in, holding a small notebook against her chest. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Sir.

God help me, that word does something to me.

She's wearing a pale blouse and black slacks, nothing flashy, nothing inappropriate, but somehow, she still manages to make it impossible to look away. Her hair's pinned up, a few strands falling loose around her face, and for a second I just stare.

Then I remember who I am. Ethan Holt. CEO. In control. Always.

"Yes," I say finally, clearing my throat. "Sit down."

She takes the chair across from my desk, crossing one leg over the other. Her perfume drifts across the space, light, something sweet. And for a moment, my brain goes completely blank.

I focus on the papers in front of me like they matter. "Tomorrow I have a meeting with the Denver branch. Ten a.m. You'll need to organize the files and prepare the quarterly sheets."

She nods, jotting it down. "Got it."

Her voice is calm, soft, too soft.

"And I'll need a follow-up call with our London partners at seven. That's early, I know."

"No problem," she says quickly. "I'll make sure everything's ready."

I glance up again. Big mistake.

She's looking at me, eyes steady, lips slightly parted like she's about to say something else. And my chest tightens in that familiar, dangerous way.

I look away. "Good."

I should stop there. I should tell her she's dismissed, that I have things to do. But instead, I find myself talking just to keep her in the room.

"You're adjusting well," I say.

"I'm trying," she answers, smiling a little. "Still getting used to how fast everything moves here."

"That's Holt Enterprises," I reply, trying to sound amused, not affected. "We don't slow down."

"I've noticed."

Silence stretches for a beat too long. I can hear the clock ticking, the faint sound of traffic from twenty floors below.

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and my eyes follow the movement without permission.

Stop.

I look down again, pretending to review a document I've already read twice. "You've done well so far. Keep it up."

"Thank you, sir," she says softly.

There it is again...sir.

Something about the way she says it, careful but not cold, makes my jaw tighten. I want her to stop saying it. And I want her to say it again.

"You can go," I say, forcing my tone back to normal.

She stands, gathering her notebook. "Of course."

But she hesitates for half a second before turning to leave, and in that moment I make the mistake of looking at her again.

Her expression is unreadable...some mix of nerves and something else. Curiosity. Heat. The same thing I feel but keep buried under a thousand layers of control.

"Is there anything else you need?" she asks quietly.

God, the question. The way she says it.

I can feel the words fighting their way up my throat... yes, you, always, but I swallow them down.

"No," I say flatly. "That'll be all."

She nods, turns, and walks to the door. Her heels click against the tile, steady and sharp. Each step feels like a test.

When the door closes behind her, I drop my pen and lean back in my chair.

My pulse is still running too fast. I rake a hand through my hair and exhale hard, trying to get my head straight.

This is exactly what I didn't want.

I hired her because she was the best candidate, not because of that night. Hell, I didn't even know it was her until she walked into that interview room. But the universe has a sick sense of humor.

I can still see her in that hotel room, messy hair, soft skin, the sound of her laugh right before everything blurred. That night had no rules, no boundaries, no names that mattered. Just two strangers forgetting the world for a few hours.

And now she's sitting across from me every day, calling me sir.

I shouldn't want her.

But I do.

I've built my entire life on control, running a company, leading people, making decisions that shape futures. But one look at Lina Hayes, and that control feels like glass, thin, fragile, ready to shatter.

I stand up and walk to the window, staring out at the city lights. The skyline stretches for miles, but it doesn't calm me the way it usually does.

Somewhere below, she's probably at her desk, typing up tomorrow's schedule. Professional. Focused. Pretending this is just a job.

And maybe it is...for her.

But for me?

It's turning into a damn problem.

I run a hand over my face and mutter under my breath, "Get it together, Holt."

There's a knock on the door, light, polite.

"Come in," I say.

It's my assistant from HR, dropping off a few papers. "Need your signature, sir."

"Leave them there," I tell him, nodding to the table.

He sets them down and leaves. The door closes again, and I'm alone.

I stare at the papers for a long time but don't touch them. My mind's still in that moment, her sitting across from me, that quiet confidence in her eyes, the sound of her voice when she said yes, sir.

I can't let this happen again. I can't let her do this to me.

She's my employee now.

And I don't sleep with employees.

Not anymore.

I grab my phone, type out a quick message to HR asking for a new Secretary to shadow her next week. Just in case.

Then I delete it before sending.

Because I already know I won't go through with it.

I drop the phone on my desk and let out a long breath, closing my eyes.

Control, Holt. You've always had it. You can have it now.

I open my eyes and glance at the door again.

And for the first time in a long time, I'm not so sure I believe myself.