Beneath the Flames

Four

Three years later

If you’d told me on graduation night that I’d end up back in Adrian Cole’s orbit, I would have laughed in your face. Hard. Then probably poured my champagne on your shoes.

But life had a twisted sense of humor.

The elevator chimed, and I smoothed down the front of my navy pencil skirt, clutching my worn leather portfolio to my chest. The doors slid open, revealing the twenty-fourth floor of Cole Industries. Glass walls, steel beams, minimalist furniture—it all screamed money and power. The kind of environment that demanded respect and made you painfully aware of your place in the hierarchy.

I stepped onto the polished floor, my heels clicking too loudly. Each echo against the marble felt like an announcement of my intrusion. The receptionist, a sleek woman with perfect eyeliner, gave me a professional smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Aria Bennett?” she asked, glancing down at her tablet.

“Yes,” I said, voice steadier than I felt, though my stomach churned.

“Mr. Cole will see you now,” she replied, her tone neutral but crisp, like she dealt with panic-stricken applicants daily.

I frowned. “Mr. Cole?”

She gestured toward the corner office. The words hit me like a punch. This was my first day as a junior strategist at one of the most competitive firms in the city, a position I had clawed my way into with late nights, countless rejections, unpaid internships, and an unyielding obsession with proving myself. And now, of all people, my first face-to-face encounter was going to be Adrian Cole.

My stomach twisted as I approached the frosted glass door. My hand tightened on the handle, fingers pressing into the smooth metal, before I finally pushed it open.

And there he was.

Adrian Cole.

Seated behind a mahogany desk that probably cost more than my entire apartment lease, dark suit cut sharp against his broad shoulders, tie knotted perfectly this time, hair slicked back, jaw clean-shaven. The man looked untouchable. Unreachable. And yet, somehow, he radiated the exact same magnetic arrogance that had haunted me for years.

For a moment, my brain short-circuited.

He looked up from a stack of papers, and when our eyes met, his lips curved into the slow, devastating smirk I had come to both hate and dread.

“Well,” he said smoothly, voice deep, confident, and irritatingly calm. “If it isn’t Bennett.”

My throat went dry. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I could say the same.”

“You’re the CEO?” I sputtered, pointing at him like accusing a ghost.

“Sharp as ever,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Cole Industries. The name wasn’t a clue?”

“You—” I gestured helplessly, words failing me. “You tormented me for four years, and now you’re my boss?”

“Technically, I’m everyone’s boss here. But I’ll admit…” His gaze flicked over me slowly, deliberately. “…this is far more entertaining than I expected.”

I wanted to sink into the floor. Or throw my portfolio at his smug face. Or both.

“I worked my ass off for this position,” I hissed. “I earned it.”

“Relax, Bennett.” His tone softened, just enough to throw me off balance. “You got in on merit. I don’t mix business with personal history.”

“Since when?” I snapped, incredulous.

His smirk widened, predatory in its subtlety. “Since I became the one signing your paychecks.”

The air between us felt like static, sharp and unyielding. I forced myself to stand straighter, even though my pulse was racing and my brain kept short-circuiting. Every instinct screamed at me to stay professional, to focus, to remind myself why I had fought so hard to get here. But Adrian… Adrian was a variable I hadn’t planned for, and I wasn’t sure I could account for him.

“This doesn’t change anything,” I said firmly, doing my best to sound authoritative.

“Oh, it changes everything,” he countered, his voice calm but undeniably loaded. “But don’t worry. I’ll try not to make you cry at the office.”

My jaw clenched. “You’re insufferable.”

“Correct. But I’m also your boss, so you’ll have to deal with it.”

He slid a sleek folder across the desk. “Your first assignment. The Carson account. Big client, bigger stakes. Don’t screw it up.”

I snatched the folder, glaring at him. “I won’t.”

“I know,” he said, voice low, almost genuine. “You never do.”

Something twisted in my chest at that, a dangerous flutter I refused to acknowledge.

Back at my tiny cubicle, I sank into my chair and buried my face in my hands. Out of all the CEOs in this city, it had to be him. My mind raced. Graduation night… the vow… the promise to myself that I’d never see him again. And yet, here he was—everywhere. His name on the walls, his shadow in every meeting, his gaze lingering too long whenever it landed on me.

I had survived Adrian Cole once. I could do it again.

Couldn’t I?

The Carson account dominated my afternoon. I dove headfirst into the folders, analyzing the data, drafting strategy notes, and preparing my slides. My fingers flew over the keyboard, a furious blur of activity. Each number I crunched, each market trend I dissected, was a small reassurance that I was capable. That I belonged here.

But no matter how deep I buried myself in work, I couldn’t shake the memory of Adrian. His expression when he had sent me off from his office earlier, that imperceptible flicker of something between amusement and calculation.

Later that afternoon, I was leaving the conference room, stack of files in hand, when a familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Bennett.”

I turned, bracing myself. Adrian stood in the doorway, one hand casually in his pocket, the other resting against the frame. His presence was an anchor and a storm all at once. His eyes locked onto mine.

“Yes, Mr. Cole?” I bit out, my voice steadier than I felt.

Something flickered in his expression, almost imperceptible. Annoyance? Amusement? Maybe both.

“Welcome to the company,” he said finally, his gaze unwavering.

And then he walked away, leaving me rattled, breathless, and painfully aware of how much space he filled in my mind—and in my day.

That night, lying awake in my too-small apartment, I replayed the day in my head. His smirk. His words. The way his presence filled every room like he owned the air itself.

He was still Adrian. Still arrogant. Still impossible.

But he was also different. Sharper. More controlled. More dangerous.

And I wasn’t sure whether I hated that… .