Today is the day I make the devil get stuck with me.

God, I hate him.

I hate his perfectly pressed suits. I hate how he walks like he owns every molecule of air in this building. I hate his cold stares that make grown executives stammer like kindergarteners.

He’s a monster, pure and simple.

If I had three wishes, I'd wish for financial security, better dancing skills for Maya, and... well, I’d spare him the third one. I might’ve wished his dick shrank and made every woman on Earth repulsive to him, but he’s not even the womanizing type.

He's too busy being a heartless machine to chase skirts—or too busy dealing with the fallout from his ex and the tanking stock prices she caused.

For two weeks, I’d been trapped in this damn cafeteria, swallowing every curse word that clawed at my throat whenever his face showed up on the company monitors, while serving soup with the same hands that… No. Don’t think about that night.

The health inspection team had arrived twenty minutes ago, already poking around the kitchen with their collective frowns of disapproval.

They were here because of countless anonymous emails detailing expired products and fake meat the cafeteria had been using.

Who had spammed their inbox until they had no choice but to show up?

I hid my smirk behind my hairnet.

My eyes scanned the room for the next pieces of my puzzle. There, sitting with his usual crowd of ass-kissers, was Greg, the executive with harassment as a hobby.

His today's victim sat awkwardly beside his chair as he ate, her expression a mixture of discomfort and forced politeness.

The third piece walked up to my station — the man whose face didn’t match his work ID. Reporter Blake. He adjusted his glasses and flashed me a friendly, nosy smile as he held out his lunch tray.

“Soup, please.”

"Sure, Blake," I smiled back, spooning the liquid into his bowl.

Now where was my final piece?

He never came to the cafeteria — too good for peasant food, I guessed — but today he had no choice. The CEO had to make an appearance.

Other than my obsessive stalking sessions online, I had only seen him once when he was leaving HQ, all red and angry, and his car had zoomed off before I could even get close to him.

The cafeteria door swung open and my heart hammered. The air changed and conversations hushed, because there he was, striding in like he was entering a battlefield.

Lucien Hayes in the flesh, all six-foot-three of him filling the room. His eyes swept the cafeteria as employees rose on their feet and bowed their heads in greeting. I didn’t bow my head.

His unreadable gaze met mine for barely a second, but it was enough to make my skin prickle.

The monster behind the night that ruined my life and the debt that owned me.

“Get it together, Camila.”

I had never seen him this close before, never breathed the same air as him… but it was time to change that.

I watched him move to join the inspection officers, his shoulders a rigid line under that thousand-dollar suit. I could practically feel the rage radiating off him. He was losing control, and that made him dangerous.

His right-hand man, Rafael, suddenly turned back, as if he had felt the heat of my glares burning into his boss’s back. I didn’t bother hiding it. Instead, I flashed him my brightest, most unsettling grin. His eyes narrowed before he turned away.

'Soon, Rafael. You'll be part of this too.'

The pieces were all in place: the crisis, the catalyst, the megaphone, and the ruthless CEO.

Showtime.

I set down my ladle with a clank, ripped off my hairnet, and tossed my apron aside. My fingers worked quickly through my auburn curls, smoothing them into something presentable. I tugged at my jeans and took a deep breath.

Across the cafeteria, Greg had toned down his usual harassment — if you could call having his hand resting under the table on what was clearly the woman’s thigh “toning it down.”

Her smile was forced, and her eyes darted around, silently pleading for help nobody ever gave.

I marched toward their table.

I grabbed the back of his balding head and slammed it straight into his bowl of soup.

“What the—” His words gurgled into the liquid.

“You know what your problem is, Greg?” I said loudly, making sure to be loud. “You think having a corner office gives you the right to treat women like they’re part of the furniture.”

His head jerked up, soup dripping down his red face and soaking his collar. “You crazy bitch—”

“Crazy? Please. I’m just the first person with enough spine to call out your disgusting behavior. Maybe you compensate with all this harassment because you’re balding faster than you can get your dick up.”

A collective gasp ripped through the cafeteria. Greg tried to stand, but I shoved him back down.

“Sit,” I commanded, and then picked up his bowl, tilting what remained of the soup directly onto his head. “Cool off.”

Another gasp, louder this time. I could feel all eyes on us now, including, I hoped, a certain pair of golden ones — and more importantly, Reporter Blake's.

I grabbed the woman’s trembling hand.

“Stand behind me,” I told her quietly, then turned back to Greg. “Your days at Hayes Corp are over.”

Greg rose from his chair, his face twisted with pure rage. Just then, his palm landed on my cheek in a stinging slap that whipped my head to the side.

The pain bloomed hot across my face, and for a moment, I was too stunned to speak. It wasn't part of the plan, and it hurt like hell, but it was also the perfect escalation.

I straightened up, touching my burning cheek.

“You have any idea what you just did? You just slapped the CEO’s girlfriend!”

Greg burst into laughter, droplets of soup flying from his face.

“Girlfriend? My foot. You disgusting-looking kitchen rat—” His hands shoved my chest, pushing me backward.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

The deep, furious voice cut through the cafeteria chaos.

Finally…

Today is the day I make the devil get stuck with me.

God, I hate him.

I hate his perfectly pressed suits. I hate how he walks like he owns every molecule of air in this building. I hate his cold stares that make grown executives stammer like kindergarteners.

He’s a monster, pure and simple.

If I had three wishes, I'd wish for financial security, better dancing skills for Maya, and... well, I’d spare him the third one. I might’ve wished his dick shrank and made every woman on Earth repulsive to him, but he’s not even the womanizing type.

He's too busy being a heartless machine to chase skirts—or too busy dealing with the fallout from his ex and the tanking stock prices she caused.

For two weeks, I’d been trapped in this damn cafeteria, swallowing every curse word that clawed at my throat whenever his face showed up on the company monitors, while serving soup with the same hands that… No. Don’t think about that night.

The health inspection team had arrived twenty minutes ago, already poking around the kitchen with their collective frowns of disapproval.

They were here because of countless anonymous emails detailing expired products and fake meat the cafeteria had been using.

Who had spammed their inbox until they had no choice but to show up?

I hid my smirk behind my hairnet.

My eyes scanned the room for the next pieces of my puzzle. There, sitting with his usual crowd of ass-kissers, was Greg, the executive with harassment as a hobby.

His today's victim sat awkwardly beside his chair as he ate, her expression a mixture of discomfort and forced politeness.

The third piece walked up to my station — the man whose face didn’t match his work ID. Reporter Blake. He adjusted his glasses and flashed me a friendly, nosy smile as he held out his lunch tray.

“Soup, please.”

"Sure, Blake," I smiled back, spooning the liquid into his bowl.

Now where was my final piece?

He never came to the cafeteria — too good for peasant food, I guessed — but today he had no choice. The CEO had to make an appearance.

Other than my obsessive stalking sessions online, I had only seen him once when he was leaving HQ, all red and angry, and his car had zoomed off before I could even get close to him.

The cafeteria door swung open and my heart hammered. The air changed and conversations hushed, because there he was, striding in like he was entering a battlefield.

Lucien Hayes in the flesh, all six-foot-three of him filling the room. His eyes swept the cafeteria as employees rose on their feet and bowed their heads in greeting. I didn’t bow my head.

His unreadable gaze met mine for barely a second, but it was enough to make my skin prickle.

The monster behind the night that ruined my life and the debt that owned me.

“Get it together, Camila.”

I had never seen him this close before, never breathed the same air as him… but it was time to change that.

I watched him move to join the inspection officers, his shoulders a rigid line under that thousand-dollar suit. I could practically feel the rage radiating off him. He was losing control, and that made him dangerous.

His right-hand man, Rafael, suddenly turned back, as if he had felt the heat of my glares burning into his boss’s back. I didn’t bother hiding it. Instead, I flashed him my brightest, most unsettling grin. His eyes narrowed before he turned away.

'Soon, Rafael. You'll be part of this too.'

The pieces were all in place: the crisis, the catalyst, the megaphone, and the ruthless CEO.

Showtime.

I set down my ladle with a clank, ripped off my hairnet, and tossed my apron aside. My fingers worked quickly through my auburn curls, smoothing them into something presentable. I tugged at my jeans and took a deep breath.

Across the cafeteria, Greg had toned down his usual harassment — if you could call having his hand resting under the table on what was clearly the woman’s thigh “toning it down.”

Her smile was forced, and her eyes darted around, silently pleading for help nobody ever gave.

I marched toward their table.

I grabbed the back of his balding head and slammed it straight into his bowl of soup.

“What the—” His words gurgled into the liquid.

“You know what your problem is, Greg?” I said loudly, making sure to be loud. “You think having a corner office gives you the right to treat women like they’re part of the furniture.”

His head jerked up, soup dripping down his red face and soaking his collar. “You crazy bitch—”

“Crazy? Please. I’m just the first person with enough spine to call out your disgusting behavior. Maybe you compensate with all this harassment because you’re balding faster than you can get your dick up.”

A collective gasp ripped through the cafeteria. Greg tried to stand, but I shoved him back down.

“Sit,” I commanded, and then picked up his bowl, tilting what remained of the soup directly onto his head. “Cool off.”

Another gasp, louder this time. I could feel all eyes on us now, including, I hoped, a certain pair of golden ones — and more importantly, Reporter Blake's.

I grabbed the woman’s trembling hand.

“Stand behind me,” I told her quietly, then turned back to Greg. “Your days at Hayes Corp are over.”

Greg rose from his chair, his face twisted with pure rage. Just then, his palm landed on my cheek in a stinging slap that whipped my head to the side.

The pain bloomed hot across my face, and for a moment, I was too stunned to speak. It wasn't part of the plan, and it hurt like hell, but it was also the perfect escalation.

I straightened up, touching my burning cheek.

“You have any idea what you just did? You just slapped the CEO’s girlfriend!”

Greg burst into laughter, droplets of soup flying from his face.

“Girlfriend? My foot. You disgusting-looking kitchen rat—” His hands shoved my chest, pushing me backward.

“What the hell is going on here?!”

The deep, furious voice cut through the cafeteria chaos.

Finally…

The crowd backed away as Lucien marched toward us. His cold eyes locked on me, and his jaw worked like he was holding himself back from snapping. The cafeteria went so quiet I could hear the hum of the lights overhead.

“Did she say girlfriend?” someone whispered.

“The kitchen girl?”

“I’ve never seen her before.”

I straightened my shoulders, ignoring the sting on my cheek. His clean cedar scent hit me as I stepped forward.

Up close, his presence was even more intimidating than I expected, taller and sharper.

“Baby, I’ve had enough of Greg and his crap,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even. I reached for his arm. “I’m sick of being undercover. You need to fire him.”

Lucien stared at my hand like it was a bug he hadn’t decided whether to crush or flick away. His brow creased slightly. For a second, he looked confused, then his face went blank again.

He brushed my hand off his sleeve.

I gasped, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Seriously? That’s how you’re going to play this?” I stepped closer, almost daring him to move. “So I’m good enough for you behind closed doors, but not in front of your employees?”

“Who the hell are you?” His voice was quiet, but it sliced through the air.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. Denying me completely now? That’s low, even for you, Lucien.” I turned to the stunned crowd. “Everyone, apparently I don’t exist! Three months together, and now I’m a stranger!”

A few phones went up. A few whispers. Lucien’s eyes flicked across the room, reading every expression, every angle. He knew this was bad.

His attention swung back to me, cold enough to make my throat tighten.

“Whoever you are, you’re fired,” he said flatly. “Now.”

I clutched my chest. “Fired? For standing up to a creep? For expecting my boyfriend to have a backbone?” My voice cracked right on cue. “Don’t bother firing me. I quit.”

I jabbed a finger at his chest. “And we are done. Find someone else to warm your bed and put up with your emotional constipation.”

The whispers rose again as I tossed my hair over my shoulder and turned on my heel.

I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away, but I didn’t look back. Elvis, the kitchen supervisor, looked at me with… pity? Disappointment?

Whatever.

I grabbed my bag from my locker and pushed through the glass doors into the sunlight. My pulse was still racing.

I’d done it.

I’d called out Greg. I’d confronted Lucien Hayes. I’d made a scene big enough to trend on the company intranet by lunchtime.

Except—

Wait.

My stomach dropped.

I wasn’t supposed to get fired. That wasn’t part of the plan!

The whole point was to make him notice me, not throw me out.

I froze on the sidewalk, clutching my bag. People rushed past, but my brain was stuck on replay.

Ronan’s going to kill me. Or worse, expose me.

My phone vibrated against my hip. It was my best friend calling. She worked in the marketing department and surely, the news of what happened must have reached her already.

“Please tell me it was a different redhead that created a scene in the cafeteria." I could feel the sheer panic in her voice.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Maya…”

She screamed so loud I had to yank the phone away from my ear. When I cautiously brought it back, she was still going.

“What were you thinking? Greg? The CEO? His girlfriend? Camila, what the actual hell?”

“I know, I know. It wasn’t exactly how I planned it.”

“You planned this without me?” she yelled. “Do you know what people are saying right now? That you’re sleeping with Lucien freaking Hayes!”

I cringed, stepping aside as a bus roared past. “Look, I’ll explain later, okay?”

“Later?!”

“The bus is here,” I lied quickly. “Talk when you’re home.”

“Camila Sterling, don’t you dare—”

“Love you, bye!” I hung up before she could continue.

I sat on the bench across from the building, the sting on my cheek reminding me of Greg’s slap. The adrenaline faded, and the reality of what I’d done hit me.

I wanted Lucien to notice me. He was supposed to pull me into his office for the next part of the plan.

Instead, I’d just gotten myself fired.

I had to fix this before Ronan found out.

---

“Spill. Everything. Now.” Maya plopped onto her boyfriend Edmund’s lap at our kitchen table, her eyes locked on me like lasers.

Tight curls framed her high bun and her bright top matched the fire in her eyes, all protective and impossible to dodge, which was exactly why I couldn’t tell her the full truth.

I stirred the pasta sauce, pretending to be completely absorbed in the task. “It’s really not that big a deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Maya threw her arms wide. “You called Lucien Hayes your boyfriend in front of everyone, got slapped by Greg, and got fired. That’s insane!”

“Wait, was that the prank you needed my help for?” Edmund said.

My hand froze mid-stir. “Edmund—don’t.”

“What prank, babe?”

“Camila made me send some untraceable emails to a particular office, can’t really remember who or what. I didn’t know she was planning corporate warfare.”

“Ugh!” I groaned. I should have known Edmund would rather tell his girlfriend the truth than lie for his girlfriend’s best friend. Edmund was a tech expert and also worked remotely. I had gone to him for help with sending those emails to the health office.

“It wasn’t corporate warfare,” I protested while turning down the heat. “I was just trying to... you know what, can we forget about it? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“No way,” Maya slid off Edmund’s lap and blocked my path to the cupboard. “You don’t get to make pasta and pretend this didn’t happen. What was your endgame here?”

I bit my lip, embarrassed once again by how half-baked my plan was.

“I just needed to get his attention, okay? I thought if I made a scene about Greg, who everybody knows is a creep, Lucien would have to deal with it. I didn’t expect to get fired.”

“And the girlfriend thing?” Maya pressed.

“That was... improvisation.”

Maya shook her head. “You know I can tell you are lying, right?”

“Dinner,” I reached around her for the plates. “Let’s just eat and gossip about this later.” But even as I served dinner, my mind raced.

He must have found out about today’s incident from one of his many spies, and he will soon call.

The thought pounded in my head like a warning drum. Suddenly, my phone vibrated in the pocket of my joggers, and I screamed, nearly dropping a stack of plates.

“Jeez, Cam,” Edmund laughed. “It’s just your phone.”

But it was not just my phone. I knew exactly who texted, and the growing dread in my stomach told me the night wasn’t gonna end well.

Ronan: Well done, Camila. You managed to screw things up. What did I tell you about controlling your impulsiveness? 9 p.m. Not a second later.

My stomach tightened.

Lucien Hayes might have fired me.

But Ronan was the one I actually feared the most.