For a long moment, Ava just stared at him.

His words hung in the air like smoke, curling around her, sinking into her pores until she could hardly breathe. Make it up to you. No one had ever spoken to her like that before—so confident, so unapologetic, so certain that he could give her something she wanted, even when she wasn’t sure herself.

Her heart thundered against her ribs. “You’re out of your mind,” she whispered, clutching the blanket like it was armor.

“Probably,” he said easily, shifting closer, his gray eyes locked on hers. “But you’re still not telling me no.”

Ava’s lips parted, a protest hovering there, but it never came out. Because he was right. She hadn’t said no.

And that scared her more than anything.

Ethan reached out slowly, deliberately, giving her all the time in the world to pull away. His fingers brushed her wrist, feather-light, and sparks shot through her body, quick and merciless. He didn’t grip, didn’t push—he simply touched, and it unraveled her.

“Do you always get what you want?” she asked, her voice trembling despite her attempt at defiance.

His lips curved. “Only when it’s worth the effort.”

Her breath caught. He was closer now, close enough that she could see the faint stubble shading his jaw, close enough that the heat of his body seemed to seep into her skin. She should shove him back, scream at him, insist this was madness. But her limbs refused to obey.

Instead, when he leaned in, she met him halfway.

The kiss was fire.

His mouth claimed hers with slow certainty, like he was savoring every second, like he had all the time in the world to break her down. She gasped against him, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers in a rhythm that made her toes curl.

Ava clutched at his shirt, anchoring herself as the world tilted. Every thought, every reason why this was wrong, dissolved under the heat of him. She didn’t care that he was a stranger. She didn’t care that tomorrow might bring regret. Tonight, she just wanted to feel.

When he pulled back, her chest heaved. His gaze swept over her face, dark and hungry.

“Still think I’m insane?” he murmured.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Completely.”

“Good.” He kissed her again, harder this time, and the blanket slipped from her fingers.

The rest of the night blurred into sensation. His hands mapping her skin. Her breathless laughter when he teased. The way he looked at her—like she was the only thing that mattered in that moment. Every barrier she tried to hold crumbled under his touch.

By the time dawn filtered through the curtains, Ava lay tangled in the sheets, her body exhausted and her heart unsteady. Ethan slept beside her, one arm flung carelessly across the pillow, as though the night hadn’t turned her entire world upside down.

She sat up slowly, careful not to wake him. Her clothes were scattered across the floor, evidence of choices she couldn’t take back. But strangely, she didn’t feel regret. She felt… alive.

On the desk, she found a notepad and pen. Her fingers trembled as she scribbled down her number. Maybe he’d call. Maybe he wouldn’t. But at least she’d tried.

She placed the note where he couldn’t miss it, then dressed quietly. One last look—at the man who had entered her life like a storm, upending everything—and she slipped out of the room.

The hallway was silent. Ava’s heels clicked against the carpet as she walked away, telling herself she could handle it if he never called.

She’d had her one night.

But deep down, some fragile, foolish part of her hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

Ava stared at her phone for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

No missed calls. No messages. Not even a text.

The slip of paper she’d left on the desk that morning flashed in her mind—the hopeful digits she’d scrawled, her silly little heart thinking maybe, just maybe, he’d use it.

He hadn’t.

She tossed her phone onto the bed with a sigh. Of course he hadn’t. Men like Ethan didn’t call girls like her. He was probably already halfway across the world, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. And she? She was just one of many.

One night. That’s all it was meant to be.

Her chest tightened anyway.

The next morning, Ava forced herself into her best blouse, smoothed her skirt, and stood in front of the mirror. New job, new start. She refused to let one unforgettable night with a stranger define her future.

Her heels clicked against the polished floors of the high-rise lobby as she checked in. The building was sleek, modern, intimidating. Perfect for a marketing firm that everyone wanted to work at—and now, finally, she did too.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she rode the elevator to the top floor. The receptionist had told her to meet her new supervisor first thing. She rehearsed her introduction under her breath, willing herself not to mess it up.

When the elevator dinged, she stepped out, smoothed her hair, and knocked on the office door.

“Come in.”

The voice froze her mid-step. Deep, smooth, unmistakable.

Her hand trembled on the handle. No. It couldn’t be. Not here. Not now.

She pushed the door open.

And there he was.

Ethan Blackwell.

Seated behind a sleek mahogany desk, perfectly tailored suit in place, gray eyes lifting to meet hers with cool detachment. The same eyes that had watched her fall apart beneath him just nights ago.

For a moment, the world tilted. Ava’s lungs forgot how to work.

He leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. “Miss Avery, I presume?”

Her throat went dry. “Y-you…”

Something flickered in his gaze—recognition, amusement, maybe even challenge—but his voice was calm, professional. “Welcome to Blackwell & Co. I’ll be your boss from now on.”

The floor could have swallowed her whole and she wouldn’t have fought it.