Emma’s POV

I stare at my phone, my fingers gripping it so tightly they turn numb. The words repeat in my head like a broken record.

"You should leave Hayes Global while you still can."

The line is dead, and there’s no caller ID. A prank? A warning? A threat?

I swallow, forcing myself to breathe. I just started this job today. How could I already have someone telling me to run?

A knock at my door makes me jolt.

"Emma?"

I recognize Alexander’s voice instantly. My fingers move to the power button, switching off my phone before I even think about it.

"Come in," I say, trying to steady my voice.

He steps inside, his sharp gaze scanning my face. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I force a laugh, even though my throat is dry. "Just first-day exhaustion."

He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he folds his arms and leans against the doorframe.

"I need you to join me for a dinner meeting tonight," he says.

I blink. "Tonight?"

"It wasn’t planned, but the investors want to go over the upcoming launch." His voice is smooth, firm, like he’s giving me a choice—but we both know he’s not.

I hesitate, my thoughts still tangled with the phone call. But backing out now will only make me look weak.

"Alright," I say, standing. "Where’s the dinner?"

"Valentino’s. Be there by eight. And wear something… appropriate."

I frown. "What exactly does ‘appropriate’ mean?"

His lips twitch slightly. "You’ll figure it out."

With that, he turns and leaves.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair. Dinner with investors? With Alexander?

And someone out there doesn’t want me here?

It’s turning out to be a long night.

*

By the time I arrive at Valentino’s, the restaurant is packed with wealth. Soft golden lighting, crystal glasses, and waiters in pristine uniforms.

I step inside, wearing the only elegant dress I own—a simple black number that reaches just past my knees. It’s not extravagant, but it does the job.

A hostess greets me with a polished smile. "Good evening. Are you with Mr. Hayes?"

"Yes."

"Right this way."

She leads me to a private dining room, where Alexander is already seated with two other men in expensive suits.

As I approach, Alexander looks up. His gaze sweeps over me—brief but too observant.

"You’re late," he says.

I glance at the time. 8:02. "Barely."

One of the men chuckles. "She’s bold. I like that."

Alexander gestures to the seat beside him. "Emma, meet Gerald Marks and Hugh Bennett—two of our major investors."

I shake their hands, keeping my expression neutral. "Nice to meet you both."

Gerald, a heavyset man with graying hair, leans back in his chair. "I’ve heard a lot about you, Miss Carter. Quite the stunt you pulled with that contract."

I smile slightly. "I prefer to call it strategy."

Hugh, the thinner of the two, lifts a brow. "And now you’re working for the man you beat?"

I glance at Alexander. He’s watching me carefully, his expression unreadable.

"I go where the best opportunities are," I say smoothly.

Gerald laughs, clearly entertained. "You’re either very brave or very foolish. We’ll find out soon enough."

The conversation shifts as the waiter pours wine and takes orders. I keep my focus sharp, answering their questions about marketing strategies, discussing the tech launch, making sure I prove my worth.

But through it all, I feel it—Alexander watching me. Not in a way that’s inappropriate, but like he’s analyzing every move I make.

And I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad one.

*

After dinner, I step outside, relieved to finally breathe. The evening air is cool against my skin, the city buzzing with life.

Alexander exits a few steps behind me, speaking briefly to Gerald and Hugh before they drive off in a sleek black car.

I turn to leave when—

"Emma."

I pause. Alexander stands beside me, hands in his pockets.

"You handled yourself well tonight," he says.

I smirk. "Was that a compliment?"

"An observation."

Typical.

We start walking toward the street when a voice cuts through the noise.

"Well, well. Look who’s moving up in the world."

I freeze.

I know that voice.

Slowly, I turn—and there he is. Aaron Wells.

My ex-boss. The man who fired me.

The man who said I’d never work in this industry again.

He stands a few feet away, leaning against a car, a smug look on his face.

"You look good, Emma," he says. "Didn’t expect to see you dining with the elite so soon."

My hands clench at my sides, but I keep my face blank. "Aaron."

Alexander, beside me, remains silent. But I can feel his presence, sharp and alert.

Aaron smirks. "Heard you were desperate for a job. I was surprised when Hayes took you in. Then again"—his eyes flick to Alexander—"he’s always had a thing for strays, hasn’t he?"

Before I can respond, Alexander speaks—his voice calm, but icy cold.

"Strays?" He steps forward, tilting his head slightly. "That’s interesting, coming from a man whose company is currently under investigation for fraud."

Aaron’s smirk falters.

Alexander smiles—a slow, dangerous smile. "Oh, you didn’t think I knew?" He leans in slightly. "Word of advice—before you throw stones, make sure your house isn’t made of glass."

Aaron’s jaw tightens. He straightens, clearly deciding it’s not worth the fight. "Enjoy your moment, Emma. It won’t last."

With that, he turns and disappears into his car, the tires screeching as he speeds away.

The silence that follows is thick.

I finally exhale, rubbing my temples. "Well, that was fun."

Alexander watches me. "You have a lot of enemies."

I huff a laugh. "Tell me something I don’t know."

He studies me for a long moment. Then, without another word, he turns and walks away.

Leaving me standing there, wondering what the hell I’ve just stepped into.

And why, despite the warning in my gut, I don’t want to walk away.

*

I rush down the hall, heels clicking against the floor. By the time I reach the boardroom, my pulse is racing.

Taking a deep breath, I push open the door.

The room is filled with executives—men and women in crisp suits, all turning to look at me. At the head of the table sits Alexander, cool and unreadable as ever.

I hesitate only for a second before walking in.

"You’re almost late," Alexander says.

I force a calm smile. "But I’m not."

A few executives chuckle. One, a tall, sharp-featured woman, doesn’t look amused.

"Let’s begin," she says.

I sit, flipping open the file. The pages inside are filled with financial reports, contracts, and projections.

I glance at Alexander, who simply nods. Sink or swim.

I take a breath and start speaking.

I analyze the reports, pointing out flaws in the marketing strategy. I question the numbers on the contract, highlighting areas that need renegotiation.

At first, there’s silence. Then the sharp-featured woman—Margaret Shaw, Head of Finance—leans forward.

"You caught that on your first day?" she asks, raising a brow.

I nod. "Yes."

She exchanges a glance with Alexander, then looks back at me. "Not bad."

I barely have time to process the approval before the next issue is raised.

An older man, Richard Lane, Chief Operations Officer, clears his throat. "We’ve received a complaint from the legal department regarding the Kingston Deal."

My eyes flick to Alexander, but his expression remains unreadable.

"What complaint?" I ask.

Richard sighs. "Apparently, Kingston’s team claims we pushed the contract through without giving them proper time to review it."

"That’s a lie," Margaret interjects. "They had the contract for a full two weeks."

Richard shrugs. "Then why are they complaining?"

I flip through my file, scanning the Kingston contract. Then I spot it.

"Their issue isn’t the contract itself," I say slowly. "It’s Clause 17B—the one about liability in case of product failure. It was adjusted last minute."

Margaret frowns. "And?"

"And Kingston might be looking for an excuse to back out of the deal."

The room falls silent.

Then Alexander speaks. "Fix it."

I meet his gaze. "How?"

"You tell me." His voice is calm, but there’s a challenge in his eyes.

I hesitate. Then I square my shoulders. "I’ll set up a meeting with Kingston’s team today."

Alexander nods, satisfied. "Good."

The meeting continues, but my mind is already spinning. My first major task. And I can’t afford to fail.