CHAPTER ONE
1005 Words
Emma Cole had never been the kind of woman to draw attention. She wore plain blouses in neutral colors, sensible heels that didn’t echo too loudly on the marble floors, and kept her hair in a simple twist that felt safer than letting it fall loose.
That morning, she’d told herself it would be like any other Monday. She’d check her emails, deliver the quarterly reports, and avoid making eye contact with Alexander Blackwood.
Then her phone rang.
“Miss Cole,” came the crisp voice of the CEO’s assistant. “Mr. Blackwood would like to see you in his office. Now.”
She felt her pulse stutter. Stay calm.
Gathering her tablet to look occupied, she smoothed her skirt and crossed the expanse of the executive floor. Every step closer to his door made her stomach tighten. She hadn’t seen him—really seen him—since that night three weeks ago. Since the kiss that had haunted her every moment since.
Her knuckles hovered over the polished wood. She almost turned away.
“Come in,” he called, before she could knock.
The door swung open, and she stepped into the lion’s den.
Alexander Blackwood was leaning back in his chair, his sleeves rolled to his forearms, revealing tanned skin and a scattering of ink she’d never noticed before. He didn’t look up right away. Instead, he finished typing something on his laptop.
When he finally lifted his eyes to hers, she felt the impact all the way to her toes.
“Miss Cole,” he said evenly, as if he hadn’t kissed her breathless in this very room. “I understand you’re due for a performance review.”
Her throat went dry. “I…yes, sir.”
He studied her, the silence stretching. Something flickered in his gaze—heat, memory, something that made her knees threaten to give out.
“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’ve been thinking about your…potential.”
The way he said it made her shiver.
“Sir—”
“Emma.” His voice softened, darkened. “We’re past formalities, aren’t we?”
Her heart pounded. She should remind him of the company policy, the rules that protected employees like her from men like him. But when he stood and crossed the room, she didn’t move.
He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Close enough to remember the taste of his mouth.
His hand lifted, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. The touch was featherlight, but her body responded as though he’d set her on fire.
“I’ve been trying to forget,” he said quietly. “But it doesn’t work.”
She swallowed hard. “Mr. Blackwood—”
“Alexander,” he corrected. His gaze searched hers, something unguarded there for just a heartbeat. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
She should lie. She should say she hadn’t.
But the truth trembled on her lips.
“Every day,” she whispered.
His hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face up.
“Then we have a problem,” he murmured.
Because in that moment, Emma knew exactly what she was about to do—and she knew it could ruin her.
And she didn’t care.
His thumb brushed her cheekbone, and Emma’s breath caught. She felt as though she were standing on the edge of a cliff, dizzy from the height, too enthralled to step back.
“You understand what this would mean,” he said. His voice was softer now, almost careful. “For both of us.”
Her mind flickered with all the reasons to end this now. She needed this job. She needed her reputation. She needed to be the woman she’d promised herself she would be after everything fell apart last year.
But none of those reasons mattered when he looked at her like that—like she was the one thing he couldn’t control.
“I understand,” she whispered.
His gaze darkened. “Then tell me to stop.”
Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She tried to speak, but no words came.
“Emma.” His hand slipped to the back of her neck, warm and sure. “Tell me.”
She closed her eyes. She knew she should push him away. Walk out the door. Pretend none of this ever happened.
But when she opened her eyes and met his, she knew she was already lost.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed.
For a moment, the world went silent.
Then his mouth was on hers, and every thought disappeared.
The kiss was nothing like she remembered—it was rougher, hungrier, as though he’d been starving for the taste of her. His hands framed her face, holding her steady as he deepened the kiss, and she felt herself melt against him, her fingers curling in the front of his shirt.
When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged.
“This changes everything,” he said hoarsely.
She nodded, too dazed to pretend otherwise.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His thumb traced her lower lip, lingering. “Go back to your desk.”
Her stomach clenched. She forced herself to meet his eyes. “What?”
“If you stay,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “I’m going to take you against that door. And you deserve better than your first time with me being a half-mad mistake.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. Her first time. He knew—somehow, he knew—and it made something tender and electric spark inside her.
Slowly, she stepped back, though every part of her body screamed to stay.
She turned and walked out, heart hammering.
The door closed behind her with a quiet click that felt louder than any shout.
And for the first time in her life, Emma Cole realized she had no idea who she was anymore—or who she was about to become.
- Writer
