MORNING LIGHT SEEPED GENTLY the parted curtains of Blake's room, brushing across Anna's face like a soft, reluctant invitation to wake. She opened her eyes slowly, her mind momentarily blank as she tried to remember where she was. The unfamiliar ceiling, the faint luxury of the sheets, the masculine scent lingering in the air-everything came back to her in blurry waves. Last night. The club. Blake. His kindness. His room.

She turned her head.

Blake was still asleep beside her, his chest rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm. His hair was tousled, his lips slightly parted, and in the warm morning light, he looked even more intimidatingly attractive than the night before. But Anna didn't have the luxury of admiring him. Not today.

Her eyes widened.

Her body shot upright.

"Oh God," she whispered sharply, the panic cutting through her chest. "I'm late."

A heavy weight sank into her stomach as she scrambled off the bed. The interview. Her one shot. The chance she had stayed up too many nights preparing for. She cursed under her breath and ran into the bathroom. The shower was rushed, frantic, barely enough to rinse away the exhaustion of the previous night. She stepped out, wrapped in a towel, her mind already racing ahead.

She needed clothes.

She needed something-anything-she could wear that wouldn't make her look like a disaster.

She tore through the room, checking chairs, drawers, corners, even the wardrobe. Nothing. Not a single female outfit. Of course Blake, in all his tailored perfection and masculine charm, wouldn't have anything she could borrow.

She stood still for a moment, pressing both hands against her temples. Time was slipping away from her like water through cracked fingers. Then her eyes caught Blake's trousers lying over a chair. A white shirt hanging loosely beside it. An idea struck-desperate, ridiculous, but an idea nonetheless.

"Fine," she muttered breathlessly. "Let's make this work."

She slipped into Blake's trousers, folding, cuffing, and adjusting until they fit around her waist. She tied the shirt at her midsection, styled the collar, and used a hair tie to cinch the back for shape. She checked herself briefly in the mirror.

Shockingly-she looked... good. A bold kind of good. Confident, intentional, sharp.

She grabbed her bag, took one last look at Blake's sleeping form-still peaceful, unaware-and rushed out of the room like her life depended on it.

The company building towered over her like a challenge. Sleek glass, iron confidence, and the cold promise of opportunity. Anna swallowed hard as she hurried up the steps, her heartbeat pounding from both nerves and the sprint she had made from the cab to the entrance.

She pushed through the front doors-only to be stopped immediately.

The receptionist, a woman with overly polished nails and a permanently sour expression, lifted a manicured hand to block her.

"You're late," she said slowly, almost gleefully. "The interview started thirty minutes ago."

"I know, I know, and I'm really sorry," Anna pleaded. "Something happened this morning, and I- I couldn't make it on time. But I've been preparing for this for months. Please. Just let me in. I can still do the interview."

The receptionist raised a brow so high it nearly touched her hairline. "Late is late. There's no 'still' in corporate structure, sweetheart. Rules are rules."

Anna's chest tightened. She stepped closer. "Please. I need this job. I really do. Just give me five minutes. Just let someone know I'm here."

"No," the receptionist snapped, crossing her arms.

Anna felt the panic deep in her bones. All her hope, everything she had fought to prepare for-slipping away because she had overslept. Because she had a strange, beautiful, reckless night. Because she had trusted the universe to give her a chance.

Her voice broke.

"Please," she whispered.

But the receptionist only shrugged, fully enjoying her distress. "You can wait if you want. But nobody is going to call you in."

So Anna sat down at the lobby corner, hugging her bag to her chest. Her eyes stung, but she refused to cry. Not here. Not now. She would wait. Even if it meant hours. Even if it meant embarrassment. She wasn't giving up-not yet.

She closed her eyes for a moment and prayed silently, hoping-desperately-that a savior would walk through those doors.

Blake woke to the soft echo of silence.

He stretched slightly, letting his senses adjust. The sunlight was gentle, the air cool, and for the first time in months, his morning felt strangely... peaceful. He turned his head toward the other side of his bed.

Empty.

His brows furrowed. He sat up.

"Anna?" he called softly, even though he already knew she was gone.

The sheets were cold. Her bag wasn't there. Her presence-a spark of unexpected warmth-had already vanished.

But instead of disappointment, something else tugged at him. A memory. Her voice from the night before.

"I have an interview tomorrow..."

So she had left for that. Dedication. Ambition. A kind of quiet fire he had noticed the moment he met her.

Blake ran a hand through his hair and exhaled.

He had known her for less than a day. He didn't even know her favorite color, her age, her past, or her story. Yet he found himself intrigued in a way he rarely ever was. Anna was different. There was something raw and unfiltered about her-something delicate but strong. A woman who carried storms inside her but walked like sunlight.

He hoped-truly hoped-that he would run into her again.

Even though life rarely granted such luxuries.

He showered, dressed in his usual tailored elegance, and grabbed his keys. His schedule was packed, and his company never slept. As he stepped out of his car at the main entrance, his personal secretary-Pamela-was already waiting, heels clicking, tablet in hand.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted briskly. "We have three rescheduled meetings, two marketer evaluations, and the board wants your approval on the pending project budgets before lunch."

Blake nodded as they both walked toward the elevator.

"Send the documents to my office," he said.

"Yes, sir. Also, the interview process for the new marketing interns began thirty minutes ago-"

Pamela suddenly stopped talking.

So did Blake.

Because out of the corner of his eye-sitting alone at the far edge of the lobby-was Anna.

Looking small.

Defeated.

But wearing his clothes.

Blake stared, his breath catching for a fraction of a second. She had styled his shirt and trousers so effortlessly, it looked like she belonged in them. Like she belonged... here.

His expression shifted-an amused, fascinated softness touching his features. "Why is she here?" he asked quietly.

Pamela followed his gaze. "Oh-her? She came for the interview. She arrived late, so she was denied entry."

Blake's jaw tightened. "Denied?"

"Yes, sir. The receptionist insisted-"

"Take her to the interview room," Blake said immediately. "I'll supervise the process myself."

Pamela's eyes widened as though she had seen a ghost. "You-sir, you never attend recruitment evaluations."

"Today I will."

"But-"

"Pamela."

She straightened instantly. "Yes, sir. I'll take her right away."

She hurried off, heels tapping with renewed urgency, still deeply shocked by Blake's unexpected command.

Anna had been seconds away from standing up and leaving-accepting defeat, accepting the cruel twist of fate-when someone approached the receptionist.

They whispered. The receptionist's face immediately changed. Her eyes darted sharply toward Anna, annoyance replaced with a forced professional mask.

"You," she called grudgingly. "Come with me."

Anna blinked. "Me?"

"Yes. Follow me."

The receptionist didn't hide her irritation as she led Anna down the hall.

Anna's heart raced. What was happening? Why the sudden change? Why now?

But she followed silently, confusion mixing with hope until they reached a door. The moment it opened, Anna's breath caught.

Inside sat several neatly dressed candidates waiting for their turn.

The interview room.

She wasn't late anymore. She wasn't locked out. She wasn't losing her chance.

The receptionist stepped aside. "Go in."

Anna entered slowly, still stunned.

Something-someone-had saved her.

And she had no idea who.

But relief washed over her like warm sunlight. Her chest loosened. Her eyes fluttered shut for a second.

She had a chance again.

And she wasn't letting it slip away.

ANNA SAT IN THE sleek, modern waiting area, her fingers lightly tapping against the edge of the chair, her legs crossed neatly. The room smelled faintly of polished wood and coffee, a subtle reminder of corporate efficiency. She kept her posture straight, reminding herself to stay composed, even as her mind raced. The interview was important-this could change everything-and she forced herself to focus. Each tick of the clock on the wall seemed to stretch time, but she remained calm, almost serene, letting the anxiety simmer beneath the surface rather than letting it show.

She observed the other candidates, all busy adjusting ties, clearing their throats, checking phones. Anna didn't need to perform any of that. She had prepared, she had memorized strategies, marketing approaches, and even the company's recent campaigns. All that was left was patience.

Minutes passed, and then the door to the boardroom opened, and a few executives stepped in. Anna's attention was immediately captured, and her breath caught-because there, at the center of the board, sat Blake. Blake, with that same magnetic presence that had consumed her the previous night.He looked... normal. Professional. Like he was simply another board member conducting business. No trace of the wild, electric night they had shared lingered on his expression. He didn't smirk, he didn't glance her way with a hint of recognition. He was entirely unreadable.

Anna's heart skipped a beat, and a slow realization dawned on her. He was the one behind this. He'd arranged for her to be interviewed again. All the connections, the push she hadn't understood before-it made sense now. And yet, the calm, collected look he maintained made it impossible to guess what he was thinking. It was as if the previous night-the intoxication, the closeness, the heat-they had shared never happened at all.

She sat even straighter, smoothing her skirt and adjusting her notebook on her lap. She would not falter. She would not give him-or anyone-an indication of the storm that surged within her. She was just another candidate waiting her turn, patient, composed, and determined.

Her pulse, though, betrayed her. Every so often, her eyes flicked toward him discreetly, catching his profile, his posture, the way he tapped a pen against the table absentmindedly. The contrast between the man in front of her and the man from last night was jarring, and yet, oddly thrilling. She reminded herself to breathe, to wait, to be patient. Soon, it would be her turn to step into that boardroom-and she would walk in not as a woman marked by desire or surprise, but as a professional ready to claim her place.

Soon her name was called into the room. Be calm Anna you've prepared for this

" Miss Jenkins, why should we hire you over the ten other applicants who have more experience in wine marketing than you?"

Anna took a deep breath, preparing herself once again for the battle ahead. " Because experience means little without innovation. I understand the traditional market, but I also understand how to capture modern consumers through digital story telling and data- driven campaigns". There was a nod among the boards before another member spoke.

"Interesting. How would you reposition a poorly performing red wine brand that hasn't sold in the past six months?"

" Firstly, I'd study the target market; their taste preference, age range and where they spend their time. Then I'd redesign the label for better shelf appeal, use influence marketing platforms and launch limited time offers with user generated content campaigns "

"What's the most important element in advertising a luxury wine product?" The only woman in the board asked. Till now, Blake had barely spoken a word , he just sat, watching her.

" Emotions. You're not selling grapes. You're selling celebration, exclusivity, and taste. The imagery, language and even background music must reflect that."

" And if a budget cut slashes 40 percentage of your marketing spend?" Mr Kingsley asked leaning towards her.

" I'd double down on high RO platforms. Cut traditional ads, push SEO, email campaigns, retargeting, and brand partnerships. Quality over quantity."

"She's not here to play " the woman whispered to Kingsley. They were both taking in low tunes until Blake cleared his throat.

" What's our biggest weakness?" Blake asked, his gaze boring deep in Anna. This wasn't about an interview alone. He was scaling how smart she is.

"Your digital presence. Your website is outdated, SEO is weak, and you're barely engaging social platforms. In this era, a premium wine should have premium visibility. " You seem confident. What makes you think you can survive the pressure here?" Blake asked.

" I've survived worse than pressure. I thrive on challenge, and I don't fold. Give me a chance and I'll prove that no one will sell Valencia better than I will."

" Interesting" Mr Kingsley said as e eyed her, intrigued. Blake wasn't done yet. " You talk a good game, but this is a male dominated boardroom. What makes you think we'll listen to you ?"

"You don't have to listen to me. Just watch the numbers after I'm hired" Anna replied calmly but firmly.

" And what if we don't hire you? " Blake asked rising to his feet. Everyone from the boardroom rose along with him.

" Then you'll hire someone safer and in six months, you'll still be having this same meeting, wondering why your numbers haven't moved. There was silence as Blake stepped away, moving to the door. " I want you here tomorrow by 5." He said and walked out of the room.

Yes Anna couldn't hide her joy more better. She did it! Finally she's going to get the best medical attention for her brother. Anna stepped out of the boardroom with her heart still pounding-not from the questions, not from Blake's unreadable stare-but from the weight that had been sitting on her chest since morning.

She didn't even wait to reach the lobby.

Her hands trembled as she dug out her phone, scrolling immediately to the name she had called too many times in her life.

She pressed call.

It rang once. Twice.

And then his soft, familiar inhale came through the speaker.

"Anna?"

Her breath broke a little. "Hey, sweetheart... how are you feeling?"

There was a long silence-too long. She knew that silence; it meant he was overwhelmed, trying to gather words that didn't want to line up for him.

"I didn't like when you left ," he finally whispered. "Everything felt... wrong."

Anna closed her eyes, her throat tightening.

"I'm so sorry, Jay. I didn't want to leave you. I just... I had to go for the interview."

"You didn't say bye."

A tremor in his voice-so small, but it stabbed straight into her.

"I know," she breathed. "I know. I rushed. I should have said it. I should have looked at you before I left. I'm so sorry that I didn't."

On the other end, she heard the faint clicking noise-his fingers tapping his wristband, the one he used when he was anxious.

"Did they shout at you?" he asked suddenly.

"People always shout during interviews."

She swallowed a shaky laugh. "They asked very hard questions, but I answered them. I think... I think I did okay."

"You did good," he said immediately, with absolute certainty. "You're always good when you try."

That undid her. Her eyes blurred.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Are you coming now?"

Hope. Fear. Need.

"I am," she said softly. "I'm leaving here soon. I just wanted to hear your voice first."

Another pause.

"Anna... I was scared today."

Her breath hitched. "Why?"

"Because the nurse closed the curtain and the lights felt different. I don't like when things change."

A small, shaking inhale. "And I couldn't ask for you because I knew you were busy."

Her free hand pressed against her heart.

"Oh, Jay... you can always ask for me. Busy or not. I'll come."

She heard the quiet rustle of him nodding.

Then, in his small, honest voice:

"I want you to come now. Please."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "I'm already on my way."

"Okay..." His voice softened, fragile but calmer now. "I'll wait. I'll count the ceiling dots so time goes faster."

She smiled through the ache. "You do that, sweetheart. I'll be there soon."

"Okay... bye, Anna."

"Bye, my love."

The call ended, and Anna stood there for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle-her brother's fear, her exhaustion, the interview, Blake's cold eyes pretending nothing had happened.

Then she wiped her face, straightened her shoulders, and walked toward the exit-because Jay was waiting, and he always came first.

ANNA HAD JUST REACHED the glass doors, ready to breathe fresh air and finally calm her racing heart, when the receptionist called out sharply behind her.

"You. "

The woman didn't even bother to look up fully from her screen. "The CEO wants to see you. Now."

Her tone was clipped, irritated, like Anna had personally ruined her entire morning. Anna blinked, confused.

"Sorry... the C–CEO?" she asked.

The receptionist rolled her eyes dramatically, leaning back in her seat with exaggerated impatience. "Yes. The CEO. Or do you need me to spell it for you? Take the elevator to the top floor. They said you should come immediately."

Anna swallowed the irritation burning in her chest. This woman again. But she kept her mouth shut, nodded politely, and made her way to the elevator. Her palms were sweating by the time the doors opened into a quiet, expensive-looking hallway.

Then she saw his name on the frosted glass door.

Blake Harrington – CEO

Her breath caught.

She knocked once.

"Come in," his voice answered, smooth and calm.

She stepped inside. He was standing by the window, tall, composed, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. When he turned to face her, his expression softened-barely-but she caught it.

"Anna," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. "Please, sit."

But she stayed standing.

Blake raised a brow. "You did incredibly well today. Better than I even predicted. I was... amused. Impressed, actually."

Anna's jaw tightened. "Thank you, sir."

He noticed the edge in her voice. "You're angry."

"I'm not angry," she lied.

He stepped closer, studying her carefully. "Do you know why I kept attacking you with questions in there? Why I pushed you harder than every other candidate?"

Anna's eyes flicked away. "Because... we were strangers, right? That's what you were acting like."

Blake stared at her, confused. "Strangers?" He paused. "You're going to pretend we didn't share a night?"

Her breath hitched before she forced her calm back into place.

Blake's eyes dropped briefly to what she was wearing-his shirt, his trousers, tucked and styled neatly on her frame. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "You look good. Better than I expected in my clothes."

Anna exhaled, embarrassed. "I'm sorry for taking them. Truly. And... thank you. For giving me another chance after I-after everything." She swallowed. "But I'd appreciate it if you treat me like an ordinary worker. Not like... your one-night mistress."

Blake froze.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable-hurt? Surprise? Regret?-then he looked away.

A long, heavy silence fell between them.

Finally he nodded once. "You're right. I got too familiar. I apologize."

Anna stayed still, her heartbeat finally slowing as the power in the room shifted back in her favour.

She cleared her throat gently. "If that's all, sir... I'd like to go."

Blake's jaw flexed, but he quietly said, "That's all."

Anna turned, walked out of his office, and closed the door behind her-leaving Blake standing in the middle of the room, suddenly too aware of the space she had just left behind.