CHAPTER 2
1093 Words
Paris should have felt like a dream.
Instead, it felt like walking into enemy territory.
Lottie adjusted her posture as she stepped off the private jet, trying to ignore the way her stomach knotted.
She wasn’t used to this level of luxury — At least not yet
The jet had been sleek, impossibly quiet, with plush leather seats and champagne poured before takeoff. The Sterling Enterprises insignia was stitched into everything—from the napkins to the silk-lined pillows in the cabin.
And yet, despite the extravagance, Nathaniel Sterling had been as cold as ever.
Not a single unnecessary word.
Not a single glance in her direction.
As if last evening's conversation hadn’t even happened.
She tightened her grip on her handbag as they approached the waiting car. A black Bentley, gleaming under the Parisian sun, with a uniformed driver already holding the door open.
Nate slid in first, effortlessly composed. Lottie followed, shifting slightly in the plush leather seat as the car pulled away from the runway.
The silence stretched between them.
She cleared her throat. “So… straight to the hotel?”
Nathaniel didn’t look up from his phone. “Straight to the office.”
Lottie frowned. “I thought we’d at least check in first.”
He tapped out a response on his screen, utterly detached. “We are here for business, Miss Hayes. Not leisure nor vacation.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed.
That's Fine.
If he wanted to be that way, she could play along.
She folded her hands in her lap, staring out the window as the Paris skyline blurred past.
By the time they arrived at the Sterling Enterprises Parisian headquarters, Lottie felt suffocated by Nate’s silence.
But inside, the mood shifted.
The French employees adored him.
As soon as they stepped in, the staff snapped to attention, offering smiles and eager greetings.
“Monsieur Sterling, bienvenue!”
Nathaniel gave them a polite nod, but his usual icy detachment remained.
Lottie, however, was met with curious glances.
A woman in a crisp white blazer stepped forward, her sharp gaze sweeping over Lottie. “You must be Miss Hayes.”
Lottie extended her hand. “Yes. Charlotte Hayes. Mr. Sterling’s executive secretary.”
The woman’s handshake was firm. “Marianne Fontaine. Head of international accounts.” She glanced at Nathaniel, a subtle smirk curving her lips. “And here I thought you’d never bring company, Sterling.”
Nate’s voice was flat. “She’s here for work.”
Marianne hummed in amusement, then turned back to Lottie. “Regardless, it’s a pleasure.”
Lottie smiled politely, but something about Marianne’s knowing look made her uneasy.
An hour later, Lottie found herself seated in the middle of a high-stakes negotiation.
The deal was crucial—a multi-million-dollar contract with a rival tech conglomerate.
Across the table sat Jacques Laurent, the CEO.
Tall, silver-haired, and undeniably charming, he had the easy confidence of a man who was used to getting his way.
And, apparently, that included flirting.
His sharp green eyes drifted toward Lottie every chance he got.
“Mademoiselle Hayes, I must say, it is a pleasure to have such beauty at this table.”
Lottie stiffened.
Nathaniel did not react.
He merely turned the page of the contract, his expression unreadable.
Jacques leaned back, studying her. “Tell me, Miss Hayes, is it difficult working for a man like Sterling? He does not seem the… forgiving type.”
Lottie smiled, keeping her voice even. “I manage just fine, Mr. Laurent.”
Jacques grinned. “Ah, a strong woman. I like that.”
Nathaniel finally looked up.
His stare was ice-cold.
“We’re here to discuss business, Laurent. Not personal preferences.”
Jacques chuckled, utterly unfazed. “But business is always personal, no?”
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened.
Lottie could feel the shift in the air.
Nate wasn’t just annoyed—he was on edge.
And that was interesting.
For the rest of the meeting, Jacques barely concealed his amusement, and Nate barely concealed his irritation.
By the time they wrapped up, the contract still wasn’t signed, and Nate’s mood was very lethal.
Lottie followed him out of the boardroom, feeling the tension rolling off him in waves.
As soon as the doors shut behind them, she exhaled. “He was just being polite.”
Nathaniel’s steps didn’t falter. “He was being an ass.”
Lottie bit back a smile. “You sound jealous.”
That made him stop.
He turned to her, expression unreadable. “I don’t ever get jealous.”
Her breath caught.
For a split second, there was something dangerous in his gaze.
And then, just as quickly, it was gone.
“We have dinner reservations.”
Lottie blinked. “We?”
Nathaniel adjusted the cuffs of his suit. “It’s a business dinner. Don’t be late.”
And with that, he walked away.
The Tension Boils Over
The restaurant was intimate, the lighting dim, the air thick with the scent of wine and slow-burning tension.
Lottie sat across from Nathaniel, acutely aware of how different he looked here.
No office. No boardroom.
Just a man in an exquisitely tailored suit, sipping his whiskey, watching her with that quiet intensity that made her stomach twist.
She cleared her throat. “So… what’s the strategy for tomorrow?”
Nathaniel swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Strategy?”
She frowned. “You know. To close the deal?”
He smirked. “I’m working on it.”
She studied him. “You don’t like being challenged, do you?”
His eyes darkened. “No.”
Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down her spine.
Lottie shifted in her seat. “You know, for a man who prides himself on control, you seemed pretty rattled today.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Be Careful, Miss Hayes.”
Her heart pounded.
But she refused to look away. “Or what?”
The air between them changed.
Nathaniel leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Or you might not like the answer.”
Lottie swallowed.
Something was happening here. Something dangerous. Something inevitable.
And she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.
Back at the hotel, Lottie changed into her silk nightgown, mind racing.
Nathaniel had been off tonight.
More intense. More unreadable.
She exhaled, turning off the lamp.
Then—a knock at her door.
Her heart stilled.
She hesitated, then walked over, pulling it open.
Nathaniel stood there.
Tie loosened, gaze unreadable.
“We need to talk.”
- Writer
