Trapped in Hate, Drawn to Love

Chapter 2

-ARIA-

"Hi, I'm Aria Davis. It's my first day. I'll be Mr. Mars' executive assistant," I told the guy at the security desk. With curly hair and, thick mustache, he looks like he stepped out of an ’80s cop movie. His name tag doesn’t help: Cash.

"ID, please?" Cash asked. I slide my document across the desk.

He typed slowly, then swiveled a camera toward me. "Stay still."

The printer spat out a card. Cash slid it across to me.

Mars Logistics

Aria Davis

Executive Assistant

My chest tightened with a rush. My key. All that’s left is the vault.

Cash rattled off a few company guidelines before waving me upstairs to begin my day.

On the top floor, I ran into Marie, the same red‑haired woman I’d met last week. She was in charge of showing me around: the coffee corner, the lounge, the printer room, and introducing me to my colleagues.

This time, unlike before, when Marie casually mentioned I’d be working with Logan Mars himself, my colleagues seemed more attentive. Their looks carried intrigue, maybe even confusion.

I understood. I’d had to polish my résumé more than a little to land this position.

My original plan had been to start low‑key, slip into a smaller role, and slowly earn his trust. Just enough to uncover how he was tied to my parents’ ruin. But when I saw the job opening online, I had to be bold. I went straight for the jugular.

"Here’s your office," Marie said, stopping in front of a small room enclosed by glass walls.

The room was bare. Just a height‑adjustable desk, a computer with two monitors, and a chair. Minimal, but it did the job. The only real perk was the view: downtown LA spread out beneath me, all sharp edges and steel against the sky.

"Thank you, Marie," I said, setting my bag on the rolling container beneath the desk.

"Ah, you’re already here." Logan’s deep voice cut in from behind Marie’s red hair.

"Hello, Mr. Mars," I said with a smile. "Thank you again for the opportunity—"

"Come to my office," was his only reply.

Charming. The kind of welcome that makes you want to claw his eyes out.

He disappeared in the next heartbeat, and Marie gave me a helpless shrug, the kind that said sorry.

I followed him back to his den and found him hunched over his computer, brow furrowed. "Close the door and take a seat," he said, without sparing me a glance.

I did what he told me, crossing my legs. My palms were damp, but I pressed them firmly against my blue slacks.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on me with that same regal intensity. "I hope you understand this position is not merely an assistant role, as the title suggests."

"No?" I arched a brow. "What do you expect from me, Mr. Mars?"

"First, call me Logan. Everyone here is on a first‑name basis, from the CEO to the courier." His hands rested lightly on the armrests.

His posture looked casual, but I knew better. It was a performance, a way to show how at ease he was, and how small I was meant to feel.

But I wasn’t going to cow.

"Logan." I tested the name out loud for the first time in years. The last time I spoke about him, my parents had recently died. "I’m Aria."

"Aria," his velvety voice echoed, and a strange jolt stirred in my belly. "Your role here will be to assess me in every way. You’ll do far more than everyday secretary tasks like bringing me coffee or screening my calls."

He swung slightly in his leather chair, those unnerving green eyes fixed on me. I stayed quiet, so he continued.

"You’ll revise my work, going through my presentations, checking the original data, and so on. It’s more of a right‑hand position than simply picking gift cards or sending flowers to people."

"You don’t expect me to send flowers to your girlfriend, Logan?" I teased.

"I don’t have a girlfriend," he replied gruffly. "I don’t have time for that. I’m buried in work, and you’re here to help me lift the load."

"I understand. I’m all in," I said honestly. What he didn’t know was what I was really in for.

"Our work sometimes runs into crazy hours," Logan continued. "I expect you to be available on weekends and after hours. Your salary will more than compensate for the extra time." He leaned forward, elbows resting on the onyx surface. "Can you work like this?"

I mirrored his stance, leaning on the table and locking my gaze with his. "Of course. As you said, I’m young. That means I have plenty of vitality. And I’m very grateful for this opportunity, sir."

A shadow flickered across his eyes, gone in an instant. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Don’t call me sir."

"Okay." I gave him a rounded nod, making my ponytail swing side to side.

"Anyway, you’ll need access to my computer. I expect you to go through my files and organize everything. Since it’s confidential, you’ll have to sign an NDA." He leaned down to his desk and pulled a stack of papers from a drawer. "The password is just for you. No one else in the company will have access."

He slid the NDA across the table. I signed after skimming it.

"Done," I said, pushing it back to him.

"Come here. I’ll show you how to access the data."

I rose from my chair and rounded the massive table. Standing beside him, I leaned over his shoulder to watch the screen.

His cologne hit me instantly — masculine, woodsy, clean. For a bastard who stole my family fortune and dismantled everything I knew, Logan smelled annoyingly good. Too good.

"See here? These are the folders for each division. And here’s the internal network, the link to all departments. The passkey is Skywalker@90." He turned his head toward me.

"A Star Wars fan?" I mused, studying his profile.

"You’re not to tell anyone about this," he said, turning back to the monitor. The tips of his ears flushed red, and I fought a smile. "That would be grounds for terminating our contract, Aria."

"Mhrm." I pressed my lips together, swallowing the smile that threatened to break free. "Does this unlock everything, or do I need another ID?"

"No, everything’s unlocked." He stood, pushing his chair toward me. "Sit. See this spreadsheet here? I want you to include all the info from last quarter."

My eyes scanned the files he pointed to, trying to commit their structure to memory. Then his hand landed on the side of my chair, caging me from behind. There was still space between us, yet somehow it felt like he was touching me.

Worse — the sensation wasn’t unpleasant.

"When do you need this done?" I asked, already calculating how long it would take.

He straightened, pulling back. "By lunch. I have a meeting now. When you’re finished, forward the file to Jacob’s email." His footsteps retreated toward the door. "The address is in our internal network."

Logan didn’t share anything else before disappearing. Typical. On the first day, you’re supposed to sit through training and ease into the work.

But with the big bad wolf Logan, you get a crazy deadline before lunch.

I was used to it. I finished the task quickly, then began combing through his computer. After all, this was the vault I’d been searching for.

I just needed to find the right entry point.

When I stumbled on a folder marked with the year of my parents’ death, I clicked it open. Several files were stashed inside.

Curiously, each one was locked with a different passkey.

I tried a random file. My fingers hovered. HanSolo@90. I pressed enter. The screen froze

Damn it! What now?

My pulse hammered. Before I could restart the computer, the door slammed open.

Logan stormed inside, his presence filling the room.

His eyes narrowed, voice like ice. "What are you doing on my computer?"