Strictly Unprofessional

The club was too loud. Too crowded. Too full of people pretending they weren’t dead inside. Which was exactly why Olivia Lane was there. After a brutal breakup, three tequila shots, and one desperate pep talk in the bathroom mirror, she was ready to make a Very Bad Decision. And there he was. Tall. Dark. Sin incarnate in a tailored black button-down. Leaning on the bar like he owned it—and possibly did. His jawline was unfair. His voice, when he asked, “What’re you drinking?” practically melted her panties off. "Whatever makes me forget my ex’s name." He laughed. It was deep and warm and made her feel seen for the first time in weeks. One drink turned into two. His hand brushed hers. Her leg slid against his under the bar. A smirk played on his mouth like he knew exactly what he was doing to her—and exactly what he’d do later. When she asked his name, he just smiled. “No names. No strings.” She liked that. Too much. --- They didn’t make it to the bed. His hotel suite had a desk. A wall. A floor. They used all three. He was commanding. Devastating. The kind of lover who learned every sound she made and tried to break records. He teased, praised, ruined. She moaned his name—but never learned it. In the morning, sunlight streaming through the penthouse windows, he was already gone. A single sticky note on the nightstand read: "Thanks for the unforgettable night. P.S. You snore adorably." She blushed. Laughed. And left with her heels in one hand and dignity… somewhere back on that desk. --- Monday morning. Olivia stepped into the sleek glass building of Blackwell Corp., nervous but excited. Her new job as executive assistant was a huge deal. High pay. High profile. Huge risk. She adjusted her pencil skirt, smoothed her hair, and nodded to the receptionist. “Orientation’s on the 21st floor,” the woman said. “And you’ll meet your boss first thing. CEO wants a face-to-face.” Olivia took a deep breath in the elevator. New job. New life. New me. The doors dinged open. She stepped into the executive suite, knocked once, and pushed the door open. And froze. Behind the massive glass desk stood him. Mr. One Night Stand. In a sharp gray suit and a slow, shocked smile. “Well,” he said, voice full of amusement. “This is going to be…interesting.” ---