One Night With My CEO.

Chapter 2: First Day, First Shock.

Amira stood before her bathroom mirror, adjusting her blazer for the umpteenth time. The navy suit was conservative, professional—everything the woman who'd kissed a stranger in a nightclub three days ago wasn't.

"You can do this," she said to her reflection. "New job, new beginning."

Her phone buzzed. Mei's text flashed across the screen: *Good luck today! Try not to kiss your boss lol*

Amira rolled her eyes, but she smiled. Only if Mei knew that kiss still haunted her dreams—the taste of whiskey, the possessive grip of his hands, the way he'd looked at her, something precious and dangerous.

She shook her head. Focus. Today was about proving herself at Grande Corp, not fantasizing about some stranger named Krit.

The morning ride through Bangkok's traffic allowed her to go over everything she knew about the company. Grande Corp was among the largest conglomerates in Thailand, having interests in real estate, technology, and hospitality. Landing an internship here was almost not possible; thousands applied, only ten were chosen.

She'd worked too hard to mess this up.

The building was even more impressive in daylight: a gleaming tower of steel and glass that seemed to pierce the sky. Amira took one deep breath and pushed through the revolving doors into a lobby that screamed wealth and power.

"Interns, this way!" A bubbly HR representative waved at a small group. Amira joined nine other nervous-looking twenty-somethings, all in equally professional conservative suits.

"Welcome to Grande Corp!" The HR woman, whose badge read 'Siriporn,' smiled warmly. "Today you'll receive your assignments, tour the facilities, and attend our company-wide meeting where you'll meet the executive team. Including," her voice dropped to an excited whisper, "our new CEO."

The murmur rippled through the group. Amira had heard rumors that Grande Corp's previous CEO had retired suddenly and his replacement was young, brilliant and notoriously private.

They were packed into an elevator that ascended to the twentieth floor. The operations department buzzed with activity-designers hunched over computers, managers yelling into phones, assistants dashing by with coffee and documents.

"Amira Wattanakul?" Siriporn checked her tablet. "You're assigned to the executive floor. Forty-fifth level."

Amira's stomach dropped. "The executive floor? But I'm just an intern—"

"Your academic record is exceptional. They specifically requested you." Siriporn beamed like this was good news.

The other interns stared at her with a mixture of envy and pity; everyone knew the executive floor was where careers were made or destroyed.

Another elevator ride, this longer. When the doors opened on the forty-fifth floor, the atmosphere changed completely: quieter here, more refined. Thick carpets muffled footsteps. Glass-walled offices overlooked the city. Beautiful people in expensive suits moved with purpose.

A tall woman with sharp features and sharper eyes approached. Her designer dress probably cost more than Amira's entire wardrobe. "You're the new intern?" Her tone was a clear indication that Amira was something unpleasant she'd stepped in.

"Yes. Amira Wattanakul."

"Ploy Rattanawin, Senior Executive Assistant." She looked Amira up and down, her lips curling slightly. "Try to stay out of the way. We have the company meeting in ten minutes, and everything must be perfect."

But before Amira could answer, Ploy spun on her heel and walked away.

"Don't mind her," a softer voice said. A young man with kind eyes smiled sympathetically. "She's territorial about this floor. I'm Somchai, junior analyst. Welcome to the snake pit."

"Is it really that bad?

"Worse." Yet he was still grinning. "Come on, I'll show you where we gather for meetings."

The conference hall was on the forty-sixth floor and was very big, with floor-to-ceiling windows and seating for at least two hundred people. Employees filed in, chattering excitedly. Amira found a seat near the back, trying to go as unnoticed as possible.

"I heard he's only thirty-two," someone whispered behind her.

"And single. Can you imagine?"

"He's probably arrogant. They are always at that level."

The lights dimmed. A hush took hold of the crowd.

Amira's heart was racing for no reason she could name. Just nerves, she told herself. First day jitters.

The executive team filed onto the stage—five older men in suits, two women who radiated authority, and then-

Her world stopped.

Time fractured into before and after, and Amira existed in the space between, unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to do anything but stare.

Him.

The stranger from the club. Krit. Except he wasn't just Krit.

He stood center stage in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, commanding every eye in the room without saying a word. His hair was styled now, professional, but she remembered how it felt between her fingers. His expression was cold, controlled, powerful—so different from the heat she'd seen when he kissed her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the board member said with a bow, "please welcome the new CEO of Grande Corp, Kritsada Veerasak."

Applause echoed in the room.

Amira couldn't move. She couldn't breathe, couldn't register the impossible reality crashing down on her.

The man whose taste still lingered in her memory, who'd touched her like she was his to claim, who'd made her forget every rational thought—he was her boss. Her CEO.

And then, as if sensing her presence, his eyes swept the crowd and found hers.

For one electric second, recognition flared in those dark depths. Something hot and dangerous that made her skin burn. She saw him tense, saw his jaw clench almost imperceptibly.

And then nothing. His face went blank, professional. He looked away, as if she were just another face in the crowd.

As if that night had never occurred.

Kritsada spoke in a calm, authoritative voice that filled the hall. He laid out his goals and vision for the company, the expansion he planned, what he expected from everyone.

Amira didn't hear any of it. The blood was pounding in her ears. Her hands shook in her lap.

This could not be happening. Of all the firms in Bangkok, of all the men in that club—

"You look pale," Somchai whispered. "Are you okay?"

She nodded mechanically, unable even to form words.

The meeting droned on. Kritsada dominated the surrounding space—so confident, strong, out of reach. His every word carried weight; his every gesture commanded attention. This was a man who ran empires, gave billion-baht decisions before breakfast.

She'd kissed him. She'd pressed against him and whispered reckless things and felt him hard against her body.

Oh God.

Finally, mercifully, the meeting ended. Employees stood, chattering excitedly about the charisma and vision of their new CEO.

Amira sat there frozen while Kritsada shook hands with board members, his smile polished and distant. None of his glances came in her direction again.

"All executive floor staff, please remain," Ploy's voice rang out. "The CEO wants to meet his immediate team."

No. No, no, no.

But there was no escaping it now. Amira followed the couple dozen employees filtering toward the stage on numb legs, her brain racing through options: quit now, claim sickness, fake one's own death—

"Line up," Ploy said, glancing at Amira as if to say she should be last in line.

In turn, employees stood up and introduced themselves to Kritsada. He followed with a professional greeting—one by one—firm in his handshake, attentive in his regard.

Amira was last.

She came forward on trembling legs, and she kept her eyes cast down. Maybe if she didn't look at him, if she just got through this quickly—

"Name and position?" His voice was ice; no warmth, no recognition.

She made herself meet his eyes. Up close, the effect was devastating. Those eyes that had burned with desire now held nothing but cold professional interest.

"Amira Wattanakul. Executive intern." Her voice was steady, even though her nerves were not.

"Miss Wattanakul." He extended his hand.

She had no choice but to take it.

Skin touched skin, and electricity shot up her arm. His grip was firm, impersonal—but his thumb brushed once across her knuckles. Deliberate. Possessive. A reminder.

"Welcome to Grande Corp," he said, his expression betraying nothing. "I expect excellence from my team. Don't disappoint me."

He let go of her hand and turned away, dismissing her utterly.

Amira stepped back, her heart hammering. She'd just been professionally warned and privately claimed in the space of ten seconds, and no one else had noticed a thing.

"That's everyone, sir," Ploy said, appearing at his elbow with predatory closeness. "Shall I show you to your office?"

"Yes. And Ploy?" Kritsada's voice stopped everyone mid-exit. "Have Miss Wattanakul report to my office in one hour. There are assignments we need to discuss."

The emphasis on 'assignments' made Amira's stomach drop.

Ploy's eyes flashed dangerously. "Of course, sir."

As the crowd dispersed, Amira stood frozen, watching Kritsada disappear through a private entrance, Ploy trailing behind him like a beautiful, venomous shadow.

Somchai appeared at her elbow. "Wow. Called to the CEO's office on your first day. That's either wonderful or really awful."

She thought of the way Kritsada had considered her: cold in public, burning in private. She recalled his thumb brushing her knuckles like a brand. She thought about how, in an hour's time, she'd be alone with him behind the closed door. "Really bad," she whispered. "Definitely really bad."

CLIFFHANGER:** In sixty minutes, Amira would face Kritsada alone in his office. Would he acknowledge what happened between them? Would he fire her? Or would the tension that nearly consumed them both three nights ago finally ignite into something neither could control?