Eva’s POV

I didn’t expect to feel his eyes on me so hard the moment I walked into Argent Holdings. But the tension that sparked between us in the boardroom had morphed into something heavier. Hungrier. He stared at me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve—and he didn’t like not having the answers.

Good.

It meant he was already off balance.

I could feel them crawling over my spine, trailing down my ass, lingering like he was already imagining bending me over the desk. Good. That meant I had his attention.

The moment I stepped into the elevator alone, I released the breath I’d been holding. I wasn’t nervous. Just… buzzing. The thrill of pulling off the first move made my blood feel electric. I’d baited him with sex, walked into his empire the next morning, and left him reeling. He didn’t even know my name last night.

Now he couldn’t forget it.

Eva Monroe.

The girl he destroyed by ruining her father. The girl he fucked like a stranger. The girl who just got hired to work under him.

Phase One: Infiltration. Check!

Phase Two: Seduction.

Phase Three: Extraction.

I stepped into my new office—a sleek, glass-walled space tucked beneath the executive floor. Minimalistic. High-end. The kind of view that said, you’re trusted, but not equal. I could work with that.

Before I could even settle in, a system tech arrived to hand me login credentials and company access files. Everything from PR operations to internal crisis communications was now within reach. A few days here, and I’d know every skeleton in this company’s closet.

And then, of course, there was him.

Xavier Cole.

CEO. Billionaire. Destroyer of families. And the only man who’d ever made me come just by gripping my hair and whispering filth against my throat.

My laptop screen flickered to life. I pulled up his schedule, already syncing with my system, and smiled. He had a meeting in thirty minutes—with me.

I touched up my lipstick slowly, deliberately. Bright red. The same color I left smeared across his jaw last night.

Let him remember it every time he looks at me.

The knock on my door came five minutes early. Typical. He didn’t like waiting.

He stepped inside like he owned the world. Sharp charcoal suit. Loose tie. Cuffed sleeves. His gaze dropped to my chest before drifting back up to my eyes.

“You’re settling in well, I see,” he said.

“I adapt quickly.”

He took a slow step forward. Then another. I leaned casually against my desk but kept my spine straight, my face unreadable.

“I hope you understand the discretion this role requires,” he murmured.

“Of course,” I said, pretending not to hear the undercurrent of something darker in his voice.

He stepped into my space—close enough for me to smell the expensive scent of his cologne. “But you don’t strike me as the type who does anything quietly.”

I let a smirk ghost across my lips. “Only when it’s worth the noise.”

His jaw twitched. I could see his knuckles tighten as his gaze dropped again—this time to my thighs, my mouth, my pulse.

He wanted to fuck me on this desk. Right now. I could feel it in every charged second that passed.

But I didn’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, I moved past him, brushing my shoulder against his as I reached for a file on the cabinet behind him. My hips grazed his thigh, just enough for friction. When I turned, he hadn’t moved.

I handed him the folder. “Today’s meeting notes. I took the liberty of drafting the PR response for the SpencerTech leak.”

He glanced at it, but his eyes were back on me in a heartbeat. “You’ve only been here three hours.”

“Efficiency is a kink of mine.”

He didn’t smile. He stared. Hard. Like he wanted to pin me to the wall and find out how deep my lies went.

“Have we met before?” he asked suddenly.

I blinked once, slowly. “Not formally.”

“So informally, then,” he pressed.

I tilted my head. “You meet a lot of women, Mr. Cole. I’m sure I’m just another in a long line.”

He studied me for a beat longer than necessary. Then turned and walked toward the door.

But just before stepping out, he glanced over his shoulder.

“I remember your tattoo.”

Then he was gone.

My heart thundered.

So… he did remember something.

I grinned and returned to my chair, crossing my legs. One hand drifted to the edge of my skirt as I replayed his voice, the way it dipped when he spoke of noise and memory.

I needed him addicted.

Not just to my body, but to the way I made him feel—off-balance, obsessed, confused. I wanted him hungry and paranoid. I wanted him undone.

Because the deeper he fell, the easier it would be to ruin him.

I pulled up his private calendar again, scrolling to the evening entry.

9:00 PM – Dinner. Penthouse. Eva.

He’d already penciled me in.

God, he was predictable.

I stood, walked to the mirror near my office window, and checked my lipstick again.

Tonight would be about more than sex.

I’d fuck him again. Of course I would. I’d let him take me rough, let him think he was in control. I’d claw my nails down his back and leave another mark close enough to his neck that he’d think about me during board meetings.

But afterward?

While he slept?

I’d start digging.

Passwords. Devices. Entry logs.

This was war. And I was already behind enemy lines.

Still, a part of me buzzed with something darker—something that thrilled me.

He made me feel alive in ways I hadn’t expected. I hated that. I hated him. But my body still ached for his touch. My skin still tingled at the memory of how he claimed me.

Was I using him? Absolutely.

But there was no denying…

Part of me couldn’t wait for round two.

And tonight, the game would get even dirtier.