Trapped in Hate, Drawn to Love

Chapter 1

-ARIA-

I checked my reflection in the restroom mirror, smoothing a rogue blond strand back into my low bun. The cream organza blouse tied at my neck with a neat bow, the pencil skirt hugged my hips in a way that was sexy but still sharp, and the nude stilettos stretched my legs for miles. Barely‑there makeup, pearl studs, and a bag that whispered taste without screaming money.

Perfect.

Three years. Three f*****g years.

I’ve been planning my revenge that long, waiting, biding my time.

My parents ran a transport company until someone tipped the feds that drugs were hidden in one of their shipments. When the containers were searched, cocaine was found. Before the trial, drowning in shame, they "killed themselves." All our assets were seized. Everything was gone.

In a single day, I lost my family, my home, my future. I couldn’t even afford to finish art school.

Berlin became my exile. A distant cousin took me in, and the university there was cheaper than back in the States. I switched majors, earned a degree in Business. And now, I intend to use it.

I left the restroom, forcing my breath steady despite the pounding in my chest. A middle-aged woman with short, curly red hair waited outside.

"Miss Davis?" she asked. I almost turned to see who she meant. Davis was a fake name, a mask to hide my past. "Mr. Mars is ready to see you now. Follow me."

She led me through a maze of corridors, past people hunched over glowing screens, their frowns dug in deep. The quiet was broken only by the clack of keys and the click of mice. Nobody even looked up when we passed by.

At last, we reached a corner office. She knocked once.

"Come in," a masculine voice called from inside the wolf’s den.

"Logan? This is Miss Davis, the candidate we discussed. She passed all HR interviews. The final step is your input."

Behind a long onyx desk sat Logan Mars, a king on his throne. Black hair combed to precision, features cut sharp, eyes so dark they pulled you in. More handsome in person than any photo suggested.

Magnetic. Commanding. Dangerous.

His charcoal suit was tailored to perfection, the grey tie and crisp white shirt stretched across broad shoulders.

"Thank you, Marie. You can leave us," he said. She obeyed, closing the door behind her.

He rose, circled the desk, and stopped in front of me. Up close, his eyes revealed themselves as dark green. Like an ancient forest, cold and controlling. Beacons of shadowed light that pinned me in place.

Fear climbed my spine, threatening to lock my limbs.

Not now, Aria. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Mars." My voice was firm, chin lifted. Even in four‑inch heels, I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze.

He didn’t offer his hand. His stare was hard, curious, suspicious.

Did he recognize me? Ten years older than my twenty‑five, we’d crossed paths before. His company had been my parents’ fiercest rival. I’d glimpsed him across crowded rooms, but never this close.

Back then, I looked different. Black‑dyed hair to smother the bland blond I despised, heavy eyeliner, a nose ring. My goth phase. All of it was abandoned in Berlin, trying to look less threatening before I came back to the U.S.

"You’re applying for the executive assistant position." A statement, not a question. Logan Mars was the kind of man used to obedience, not dialogue.

"Yes," I answered, steady.

"I read your résumé. Local community college in the Midwest. Worked at your father’s bakery, handling the finances."

Lies. Every word of it. A goddamn Disney fairytale.

"That’s correct. I know you have capable people working for you, but I believe I’ll be an asset to your team, Mr. Mars."

"You don’t have an accent," he quipped, one eyebrow raised.

"I don’t?" I gave him a shy smile, trying to hide my nerves.

Logan stood with his hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on me. That unnerving stare pressed against my skin. I fought the urge to drop my eyes, to glance at the chairs.

Is he going to interview me standing? Of course, he is. Another intimidation tactic.

"I don’t think you’re fit for this role," he said at last. "You’re too young. Too frail to withstand the pressure here. We deal with demanding clients, impossible deadlines, and high‑risk contracts. My employees excel under pressure. That’s why we dominate the market, why we’re the number one logistics company in the country."

Sure. After you murdered my parents, things got easier for you, didn’t they?

But I’ll prove your hands are dirty. And you’ll lose your empire the way my family lost theirs.

"I’m stronger than I look, Mr. Mars. Give me a chance, and I’ll be the best executive assistant you’ve ever had."

"Thank you for your time, but you’re not the candidate I’m looking for." He scratched his chin, dismissing me with a flick of his hand. "You may go now."

He wasn’t even looking at me anymore, just glancing at the phone in his hand. He had erased me from his mind.

No! Panic clawed at my throat. I came this far, and now he was letting me go?

I opened my mouth to protest, but a knock at the door made me stop. A bald, sweating man stepped inside.

"Logan. Sorry to interrupt." His eyes flicked to me, then back to Logan.

"The port, Samuel. Tell me you fixed the paperwork mess."

Samuel’s face blanched, sweat beading at his temples. "It’ll take time. We won’t meet the deadline. I’m negotiating the fine with the client."

"f**k, Samuel." Logan’s growl made him flinch. "How long?"

"A month?"

Logan’s glare could have killed him on the spot. I opened my mouth before the silence strangled the room.

"Why don’t you use your planes to move more cargo? You’ll meet the client’s deadline."

Samuel’s dead eyes snapped toward me. "That’s ridiculous. The merchandise is already in the country. Air freight is insanely expensive."

"You know what’s more expensive, Samuel?" Logan’s voice cut like a dagger. "No merchandise."

"Your reputation will stay intact. The market will know Mars Logistics does the impossible but gets the job done, no matter what," I said, my hands pressed firmly against my skirt.

I was trembling. It was a gamble, offering such a bold move. Logan could see me as a visionary or a fool. And if it failed, I’d have to start from scratch.

"And what do we do with the blocked product?" Samuel asked.

Geez. Do I have to do everything for this guy? And Logan claims he has the best employees?

"I don’t know. Return it. Or offer it to the client at a lower cost. Cut the losses," I suggested.

Logan’s green eyes sparked like emeralds. His head tilted, nodding slowly. "I like it. Bold. Risky. Exactly the kind of innovative thinking we need around here."

Something warm bloomed in my stomach, and I smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Mars."

"Make it happen, Samuel. Now!" he barked, and the bald man scurried out.

Logan’s gaze locked on me again, sharp as X‑ray vision, probing for cracks in my mask.

"I told you I could help your company. Does this mean I’m hired?"

Logan studied me with the ghost of a smile.

"Yes. You’ll start on Monday." He moved back to his desk. My time was up.

"Thank you, Mr. Mars," I said. And before crossing the threshold, I added, "I’ll change your company, sir."

He barely paid attention.

But he will. I’ll never rest until I find the evidence of his actions.

And he’ll suffer the fate he gave my parents.