HIS ICE HER FIRE
603 Words
Jaxon didn’t believe in distractions.
Feelings. Attachments. Wild eyes with smart mouths.
Especially not ones that walked in with a chip on their shoulder and legs that made every man in the boardroom forget their MBA.
He should’ve had her reassigned.
He almost did—until he read her file again that night in his penthouse, scotch in hand and thunder rolling outside like a damn movie.
Elara Monroe. Graduated top of her class. Strategic analytics intern. Fast-tracked for corporate leadership.
So why the hell was she his secretary?
A move he didn’t make.
Someone buried her.
And for the first time in a long time, curiosity overruled protocol.
---
At 9:30, she entered the boardroom like she owned it.
He didn’t look up. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
But he saw her reflection in the glass of the projector screen. The calm poise, the perfect blouse tucked into a skirt that didn’t beg for attention but stole it anyway.
Her hands didn’t shake. Her eyes didn’t flinch. Even when he ignored her completely.
Good.
Maybe she could survive this place.
Because Wolfe & Crane didn’t chew people up. It devoured them.
Still... as the meeting dragged on and she stood by the wall taking notes like a soldier, he kept glancing at her without turning his head.
She didn’t fidget.
Didn’t zone out.
And when the Tokyo projections failed to load, she was the one who stepped forward with a backup drive.
“Plan B,” she said softly, placing it on the table beside him.
He didn’t say thank you.
But inside, something shifted.
A flicker. A whisper.
She’s not what you thought.
Damn it.
He hated being wrong.
Elara stood by the wall, every part of her screaming to sit, to stretch, to breathe, but she didn’t move. Not when twelve suits barely spared her a glance. Not when Jaxon Wolfe acted like she was invisible — except she wasn’t. She saw the way his jaw flexed every time her heels clicked. Saw the way his fingers paused slightly when she handed him the drive.
He noticed her. He just didn’t want to.
That made two of them.
Because no matter how hard she tried to ignore the ridiculously tailored suit, the sheer control in his voice, or the fact that his cologne was criminally distracting — Jaxon Wolfe got under her skin.
But she wasn’t here to be liked. Or to like.
She was here to find out who buried her résumé, clipped her wings, and dropped her into the role of secretary like she was just another pretty face with a LinkedIn profile.
Not today, Satan. Not even in a navy Tom Ford suit.
When the meeting ended, the suits shuffled out. Elara didn’t move until Jaxon finally acknowledged her — just a glance, sharp and unreadable.
“Not bad,” he said. Like he was surprised.
She raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Mr. Wolfe. That almost sounded like praise.”
He didn’t smile. Of course he didn’t. But his gaze lingered.
“Don’t expect compliments. Expect expectations.”
Elara smirked and turned to leave. “Good. I prefer to exceed those.”
She didn’t wait for a response.
---
In the hallway, her pulse was high, and her pride even higher. She was still learning the layout, still unsure of who she could trust here — but one thing was already clear:
Jaxon Wolfe didn’t want a secretary.
And he sure as hell didn’t know what to do with her.
Which makes this even more fun.
Let him try to freeze her out.
She’d set the damn place on fire.
- Writer
