CEO’s Temptation

ONE

NATALIE

All bad decisions come at a price. And, I would rather swallow glass than work for him.

Standing in front of the door that stands between Aaron Curry’s office and me, I hesitate knocking, finding it hard to accept with myself that walking into Aaron’s office means agreeing to work with my worst enemy. This is an humiliation ritual.

Unfortunately, glass doesn’t come with a salary, legal protection, or access to the project I’ve spent several months working on before he dismantled it in under five minutes.

At the final stage of the interview at scurry and Sons., a real estate company, all the finalists were asked to prepare a proposal for a building contract. The best proposal would get hired. That was the contract.

My proposal was the best. I heard it even secured a multimillion dollar contract for the company. But unfortunately, I wasn’t hired. Why? Because the CEO’s son at the time, who is now the CEO after his father retired rejected not my proposal, but me! How? I didn’t get a response.

I did ball my eyes out for a few weeks before picking up my McDonald’s t-shirt and swallowing my pride to beg the manager to hire me back.

A month later, I got a mail that the CEO wanted me to sign a job contract in-person.

I like to believe there was an error somewhere even though there was not, and he’s giving me a second chance to work on this project because I’m the only one that can actually carry it out effectively. The brain. A second chance at doing my job right.

Gathering all the strength I can, I knock on his door.

“Come in,” his thick voice comes from inside.

Carefully, I open the door and walk in with my head held high.

Coming face to face for the first time with the man I’ve only ever known by his name is a shock to me because his face is crazily familiar, and I remember exactly where I’ve seen him before.

He observes me with keen eyes. He doesn’t look apologetic now. He doesn’t look anything at all, just composed, immaculate, seated behind his desk like the outcome of this meeting was already decided. Which, infuriatingly, probably is.

There is a crazy smug on his face.

“You’re, late,” he says, checking his watch.

“I was hoping you’d changed your mind,” I reply, dropping into the chair opposite him without invitation.

Wherever this confidence and attitude is coming from, I love it. And he deserves it.

His mouth curves, slow and sharp. “Disappointment should be a normal thing to you by now. Why would I change my mind?”

My fingers curl around the armrest. “You obstructed my appointment even though my proposal was the best.”

“You didn’t know what to do with all that,” he corrects, “It wasn’t personal.”

Sitting up, I look straight at him, “Between you and I, we both know who can’t handle all that.” The words smoothly rolls off my tongue and I catch the little smirk on the corner of his mouth.

“Why am I here, Mr, Curry?” I ask.

He slides a folder across the desk. The contract. Thick. Heavy. Final.

“You’re here because you want back in,” he says calmly. “And because you’re very good at what you do I’m considering giving you a second chance.”

“Is this a second chance or you just couldn’t find anyone better than me to do my job,” I mimic his calmness. “This was my project, Mr. Curry. I’m the only one that can handle it.” I pause, my eyes moving from his to the contract and back to his.

Something flickers in his eyes. Maybe a little bit of anger, but majorly interest.

“You’ll be working directly under me,” he says, unbothered. “Long hours. Full discretion. You follow my lead.”

“I smirk. “I don’t follow anyone.”

“Everyone follows something.”

I scan the pages of the contract, pulse ticking faster with every clause. Authority. Availability. Control dressed up as professionalism. It is airtight. Suffocating. And worst of all, I’m going to be working as his personal assistant.

“Is this a joke?” I ask, unable to hide the anger in my voice.

“What part of it seems comical to you?”

Slapping my hands on the table, I spring to my feet. Hot blood rushing through my veins. “Well, every damn clause in this f*****g contract. I applied for a lead role which I’m very much qualified for. I made it through all the stages of the interview only to get offered to be an assistant. Who would do something like that?”

“The boss.”

I scoff.

Rising to his feet, his movement unhurried and deliberate. He comes around the desk, stopping too close—invading my space like he’d planned it. The smell of him fills my nostrils.. Clean. Dark. Unfairly distracting.

I stand toe to toe with him, staring into his eyes, unwavering even though my guts are tightening into a knot.

“What did I do to you?” I ask calmly.

His dark hair is nearly cut short. His profile is angular and masculine with a long nose that points forward. His clean shaven jaw tightens and softens almost immediately. Dragging in a lungful of air, along with my scent, I presume, he says,

“Nothing.”

“Then what? Do you enjoy this? Watching people corner themselves at your mercy? Playing with people’s lives like you didn’t get any toys while growing up.”

His smile is cynical and short, and does not touch his eyes.

“I enjoy competence,” he says. “And resistance. In moderation.”

What the f**k does that even mean?

The top of his fingers gently brush the back of my hand, catching me off guard. I jolt in response, my breath catching in my lungs. I hate that he noticed. I hate that after so many months, his touch still has the same effect on me.

One night of partying hard, the apex of my many bad decisions. I had s*x with a stranger who is later turning out to be my boss and offering me the role of his assistant after stopping me from getting a proper lead role.

Now that I recognize him and I know fully well he recognizes me back, I hate him even more. But the bolt of lightning his presence sends through my body is still there. Because I remember that night too vividly. The way he ran his tongue all over my body. The way he sucked me, caressed me, fondled me. The amount of control he gave to me because I was too wild for him. The way I rode him like a f*****g bull. His hand on my throat, on my waist, in my mouth. I remember every detail of it.

And, if I have any bit of dignity, I should find my way out of this company and look for a job elsewhere. But dignity will not help me get my lick back. I have to get revenge one way or the other.

“I’ll need to go over the contract at home.”

“24 hours. That’s all you have.”

Snatching the contract off the table, I walk out of his office