Ava sat stiffly in the leather chair opposite Ethan’s desk, her palms damp against her skirt. Her brain screamed at her to say something, anything, but words had abandoned her the moment she walked into this office.
Ethan, on the other hand, looked perfectly at ease. He leaned back, fingers steepled, gray eyes fixed on her with the same unnerving calm he’d had that night. Only now, there was no dim hotel room, no game of strip poker. There was only the sharp lines of his suit, the authority in his posture, and the silent reminder that he was her boss.
“Is there a problem, Miss Avery?” His voice was smooth, almost bored, as though he wasn’t staring directly at the woman he’d had in his bed days ago.
Her cheeks burned. “N-no. No problem at all, sir.”
The word sir tasted strange on her to
