TRAPPED WITH THE COLD CEO

CHAPTER ONE The clank of weights and rhythmic thump of treadmills filled the air, but Zara Smith barely noticed. She was drenched in sweat, her ponytail sticking to the back of her neck as she slowed to a jog on the treadmill. This was her third visit to the gym this week not because she was suddenly obsessed with fitness, but because there was nothing else to do. Ever since she graduated nine months ago, her life had been one long loop of sending CVs, attending interviews that led nowhere, and scrolling through job boards until her eyes ached. The boredom at home was suffocating. She stepped off the treadmill, grabbed her water bottle, and headed toward the locker room. At least I killed two hours today, she thought. Outside, the late afternoon sun was dipping, throwing a golden glow across the city streets. Zara tucked her phone into the pocket of her leggings and started the short walk home. That was when she saw it. A towering glass building, sleek and modern, reflecting the sky like a mirror. Above the revolving doors, bold silver letters spelled out: COLE ENTERPRISES Zara stopped in her tracks. She’d seen the name before in business articles, finance blogs, even in the gossip section when its elusive CEO was spotted at a gala. Zayden Cole. The man was practically a myth: young, ruthless, and annoyingly handsome from the few photos that existed online. She took a hesitant step closer. From the outside, she could see the lobby all marble floors, leather chairs, and a massive chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace. Her heart began to thud. She didn’t have an appointment. She wasn’t dressed for an interview she was in leggings, a gym tank top, and sneakers. But something in her itched to walk inside. What’s the worst that could happen? she reasoned. They’ll kick me out? At least it’s more exciting than going straight home. Pushing a deep breath through her lungs, she stepped through the glass doors. The cool rush of air-conditioning kissed her skin, and the faint scent of polished wood and expensive perfume filled her nose. Behind the sleek reception desk sat a woman with a tight bun and sharper cheekbones than Zara’s self-esteem at the moment. “Good afternoon,” the receptionist said, eyes sweeping over her gym outfit. “Can I… help you?” “Uh…” Zara hesitated. “I—actually wanted to ask if there are any vacancies?” The receptionist’s brows arched so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Do you have a résumé?” Zara’s hand fumbled for the folded CV she always kept in her bag just in case. The receptionist accepted it, her expression unreadable, then picked up the phone. “Someone from HR will be down in a moment,” she said curtly. Zara’s eyes widened. “Wait now?” Before she could collect her thoughts, the elevator doors slid open behind her. Footsteps echoed slow, deliberate, confident. She turned… and her breath caught. Zayden Cole himself walked toward them, tall and sharp in a charcoal suit. His eyes were a deep, unreadable grey, fixed on her like she’d just trespassed into a restricted zone. And in that split second, the paper coffee cup in her hand the one she’d grabbed from the gym café on her way out slipped. A warm splash hit the front of his pristine white shirt. Zara’s stomach dropped. “Oh my God!” Zayden looked down at the mess, then up at her, his jaw tightening. His voice was low, controlled… and icy. “Miss,” he said, “you’ve just made a very expensive mistake.”