HIS PLAY THING

THE BEGINNING OF US

Ivy’s POV

The morning after the coffee spill, I expected to be fired.

Instead, I got summoned.

A sleek email from Dominic Hayes’ executive assistant landed in my inbox just before noon:

Mr. Hayes would like to speak with you privately at 12:30 p.m. today. His office, 41st floor. Come alone.

I stared at it for a long time, my stomach in knots.

Was this it? My exit interview disguised as a quiet scolding? Would he tell me I wasn’t Hayes Global material? Or worse—that I’d embarrassed the company?

Either way, I couldn’t not go.

I arrived five minutes early.

His assistant, a woman with perfectly pinned blonde hair and eyes like polished steel, gave me a single nod before gesturing me inside.

Dominic’s office was everything I imagined—floor-to-ceiling glass windows, charcoal accents, a towering bookshelf, and a massive walnut desk that looked more like a throne than furniture. It smelled faintly of leather and something darker—wood smoke and wealth.

He stood behind the desk, his back turned, looking out at the skyline.

When he finally turned around, his eyes fell on me without hesitation. He didn’t speak at first. Just watched.

Like he was still deciding something.

“You’re the intern,” he said finally. His voice was deep, smooth, and commanding.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, nerves cracking my voice.

“Ivy Rivers.”

He remembered my name.

“Yes.”

“You spilled coffee on Terrence Finn.”

I swallowed. “I did. And I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I’ll make sure it never happens again.”

“I’m not here to talk about coffee.”

That surprised me. “You’re not?”

He took a slow step forward. “I’m here because you caught my attention.”

My breath hitched. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

He came around the desk, stopping just inches from me. He was taller than I remembered. Larger. His presence swallowed the room.

“You’ve been here three days,” he said. “Already causing messes.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“That wasn’t a criticism.”

I blinked.

“I notice everything in this company, Ivy. Most interns come and go like wallpaper. You didn’t.”

I couldn’t tell if this was a compliment or a warning. My mind raced, trying to figure out where this was going—if this was some professional boundary talk, or something else entirely.

Then he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face.

“I don’t mix business with pleasure,” he said quietly. “But right now, I’m tempted to make an exception.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Was I hearing this right?

His hand dropped. He stepped back, letting the silence stretch like a wire between us.

“You can leave if you want,” he said. “Or you can lock the door.”

I should have left.

I should have reminded myself this was my dream internship, not a romance novel. I should have walked out with my head held high and my morals intact.

But I didn’t.

I locked the door.

I don’t remember how we got from words to skin.

One moment, we were across the room, and the next, he had me pinned against the desk, his mouth on my neck, my blouse halfway unbuttoned.

He kissed like a man who didn’t ask for permission. His mouth was hot, urgent, deliberate. When he touched me, it wasn’t gentle—it was knowing. Like he already understood what would make me gasp, what would make my knees go weak.

I clutched his shoulders as he lifted me onto the desk, knocking papers and pens to the floor. His hands slid up my thighs, parting them with practiced ease.

When he finally thrust into me, I couldn’t hold back the sound that tore from my throat.

He was relentless. Focused. Like he was trying to stake a claim.

The desk creaked beneath us. His breath was hot against my skin. Every sharp, hard thrust sent sparks behind my eyes.

I’d never been taken like this before.

Never been wanted like this before.

Then—

A sharp knock on the door.

Dominic froze.

“Ignore it,” I whispered, breathless.

But the knock came again—more urgent this time.

“Sir, your call with Zurich is on the line,” came the voice of his assistant from outside.

He pulled away, letting out a low curse under his breath. He quickly adjusted his shirt and handed me my blazer.

“I’ll text you an address,” he murmured. “Be there tonight. 9 p.m.”

I nodded, still dazed, heart pounding in my ears.

—

When I got home, Cassie was lounging on the couch in her bathrobe, eating ice cream straight from the tub and watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy.

She barely looked up. “You look like you just walked off the set of a scandal.”

I dropped my bag, kicked off my heels, and collapsed beside her.

“I slept with Dominic Hayes.”

Her spoon paused mid-air.

“You what?!”

I nodded slowly. “In his office. This afternoon.”

Cassie turned to face me fully. “Wait—Dominic Hayes, as in your billionaire boss? Mr. Eyes-That-Can-Melt-You? That Dominic?”

I nodded again.

“Oh my God, Ivy.”

“I know,” I groaned, covering my face. “It was… insane. We barely said five real sentences. And now he wants me to come to his apartment tonight.”

She stared at me. “Are you going?”

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “I mean, part of me thinks this is a terrible idea. But another part…” I trailed off.

Cassie raised a brow. “Another part wants more.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.

—

By 8:45 p.m., I found myself standing outside a high-rise building in the heart of the city. The doorman already had my name on the list.

His penthouse was exactly what you’d expect: sleek, modern, breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling windows, moody lighting, walls decorated with abstract art that probably cost more than my college tuition.

Dominic met me at the door in a black shirt and slacks, barefoot, holding two glasses of whiskey.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said, handing me one.

“Neither was I.”

We sat in his living room, sipping in silence. The air between us was thick with everything unsaid.

Then he reached for me again—and this time, there was no desk, no interruptions, no holding back.

Clothes fell away. Bodies collided.

He took me like a man who had waited all day for this moment.

Every touch was deliberate. Every kiss, consuming. When he pushed me back onto his bed and entered me again, it felt even more intense than the first time.

He murmured things in my ear that made my toes curl. I lost count of how many times I came.

Afterwards, I lay on the bed, my limbs tangled in silk sheets, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers.

I felt… changed.

Wowed. Wrecked. Wondering how I’d gone from the clumsy intern to this woman melting beneath her boss.

And yet… I didn’t regret a single second.

I’d never felt this way before.

Not with anyone.

But just as I started to drift into a hazy, satisfied silence, Dominic’s phone buzzed sharply on the nightstand. He glanced at it and his jaw tensed.

He didn’t answer.

But something shifted in his eyes—just for a second.

“Everything okay?” I asked quietly.

He hesitated.

Then turned to me with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Depends,” he said. “How good are you at keeping secrets?”