TERMS AND CONDITIONS?
1230 Words
Talia’s POV
I don’t remember leaving Aiden’s office.
I don’t remember riding the elevator down, or stepping outside, or breathing actual air again.
All I remember is the folder clutched in my hands—the contract. My contract.
The job I prayed for.
The chance I begged the universe to give me.
And the man whose presence makes my lungs forget how to work.
I slide into a corner table in the resort café, the only place quiet enough for me to think. A wall of windows opens to a breathtaking view of the mountains, their peaks dusted with morning light. It’s calm—too calm for the chaos in my head.
I set the contract on the table and stare at it like it might explode.
“Just read it,” I whisper to myself. “People sign contracts every day. This is normal. Totally normal.”
Except nothing about Aiden Wolfe feels normal.
I flip open the first page.
WOLFE ENTERPRISES
EXECUTIVE INTERNSHIP AGREEMENT
My name looks so small on the line beneath his signature.
His signature is bold. Sharp. Confident.
Like him.
I begin reading through the terms, biting my lower lip as I go.
• Full-time, on-site position. Expected.
• Long work hours. Understandable; he warned me.
• Confidentiality agreement. Standard.
Then I reach a paragraph that makes me blink twice.
The intern will be under the direct supervision of the CEO, Mr. Aiden Wolfe, and is expected to attend all scheduled trips, events, and private meetings deemed necessary by the CEO.
Private meetings.
Trips.
Events.
My stomach lurches.
This isn’t an internship.
It’s shadowing him. Following him. Moving through his world.
I flip to the next page.
The position requires extreme professionalism and emotional discretion at all times, due to the sensitive nature of the CEO’s activities.
Emotional discretion?
What does that even mean?
I rub my temples.
The next page is even worse.
Boundaries between professional and personal matters must remain respected at all times.
My cheeks heat instantly.
Does that mean he thinks I’m going to cross a boundary?
Or that he might?
My mind flashes to the way he looked at me in his office.
The way his eyes lingered.
The way my heartbeat jumped like it recognized something I shouldn’t.
Maybe the contract is a warning. A barrier.
But if he doesn’t want anything personal, why did he look at me like that?
A throat clears beside me.
I nearly jump out of my skin as a woman in a fitted navy suit steps up to my table.
“Miss Talia?” she asks with the same no-nonsense tone as a boarding school headmistress.
I sit up quickly. “Yes?”
She hands me a sleek black card key. “Mr. Wolfe requested that you be moved to staff housing on the executive floor. He said to give you direct access.”
My eyes go wide. “Direct access to what?”
“To him.”
My pulse trips.
“He didn’t phrase it that way,” she adds quickly. “That’s just the access level on the key.”
Sure.
Direct access always means hallways and elevators, not… him.
My face burns anyway.
“I’ll show you the room,” she says.
I gather my things, still clutching the contract, and follow her out of the café.
⸻
We ride a silent elevator up several floors until the doors open to a quiet hallway lined with sophisticated lighting and pale stone walls.
“This is the executive staff wing,” she explains. “Mostly assistants, coordinators, travel managers. You’ll be right here.” She unlocks a door.
The room beyond is beautiful.
Too beautiful.
A fully furnished suite with a small living area, soft cream tones, a plush bed, wide windows, and an attached bathroom that looks like something out of a luxury magazine.
“This is… for me?” I whisper.
“Yes. Mr. Wolfe doesn’t place interns here, so consider yourself fortunate.”
My heart pounds. “He doesn’t? Ever?”
“Never.” She gives me an assessing look. “He must have seen something in you.”
My breath catches.
I don’t know what scares me more—
that he sees something in me…
Or that I want him to.
⸻
After she leaves, I sit on the bed and unfold the contract again.
I should call someone.
My mom. My best friend.
But they would ask questions I can’t answer.
Why did he hire you so quickly?
Why are you living on the executive floor?
Why you?
I blow out a breath and return to the final section of the contract.
This time, one clause in particular freezes me.
Clause 14: The CEO retains the right to dismiss the intern immediately if professionalism is compromised.
Professionalism.
So he is worried.
Or trying to make sure I’m worried.
I close the folder, my fingers trembling.
I’ve barely known this man for twenty-four hours, and already he’s rearranging my reality. My job. My living situation. My breathing patterns.
What will working with him actually be like?
A knock sounds on my door.
I stand too fast. “Hello?”
“It’s Aiden.”
His voice. Low. Magnetic. Dangerous.
I unlock the door, and the moment it opens, my heart drops to my feet.
He’s standing there in a black suit, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His hair is slightly messy, as if he ran his hands through it again. And his eyes—
His eyes lock onto mine like he owns the air between us.
“Talia,” he says, gaze flickering briefly to the contract in my hand. “Have you read it?”
“Yes.”
“And?” His voice is quiet, taut.
I swallow. “It’s… a lot.”
“Good.” His jaw flexes. “I need someone who can handle a lot.”
There’s a charged pause.
“You moved me to the executive floor,” I say softly. “You’ve never done that for an intern.”
His eyes darken. “You’re not like my previous interns.”
“Why not?”
He steps closer.
Too close.
Close enough that I catch the clean scent of him—cedar, cold air, something warm underneath.
“Because,” he says, lowering his voice, “you don’t pretend with me. You don’t perform. You don’t hide what you’re feeling.”
I inhale sharply.
“And that’s a problem?” I whisper.
“It could be.”
I grip the contract. “Then why hire me?”
His answer is immediate.
“Because I trust the way you look at me more than I trust the way people lie to me.”
My breath trembles out of me.
“And you’ll need to trust me too,” he adds, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Starting now.”
I open my mouth to reply, but he speaks first.
“Finish reading the contract,” he says. “And meet me in my office at eight tomorrow morning.”
He steps back, but his eyes stay on me another second, as if he’s reluctant.
“Goodnight, Talia.”
Then he’s gone.
I close the door slowly, my pulse hammering.
Trust him?
I don’t even trust myself around him.
But one thing is painfully clear:
Whatever I’ve walked into…
This is only the beginning.
- Writer
