Chapter 3 : The CEO's son
1075 Words
Aria Lane — now Clarke Mickelson — stepped into the sleek glass lobby of Thorne Industries like a bomb ticking beneath designer heels. Her heart pounded, not from nerves, but from fire. Purpose. Revenge.
The towering building was all steel and shadows, the kind of empire Victor Thorne would build — cold, sharp, soulless. She adjusted the strap of her leather handbag and moved toward the receptionist, her expression calm. Collected. Calculated.
No one looking at her would guess she was pregnant.
No one would guess that the man she’d slept with — the man who had devoured her in a hotel suite two weeks ago — was the son of the man she had come to destroy.
Because she didn’t know that either.
Not yet.
“Clarke Mickelson?” the receptionist asked, eyes flicking over her with a polite smile. “Welcome to Thorne Industries. You’re on the executive track, right? Floor forty-three. HR said you’re being shadowed directly by the VP.”
“Thank you,” Aria said smoothly, even though her stomach dropped.
Vice President. That wasn’t Victor. That was… someone else. She’d researched the company enough to know Victor Thorne held the title of CEO and Chairman.
But she hadn’t anticipated being thrown straight into the lion’s den.
Or worse — straight into the arms of the devil she’d already danced with.
The elevator opened on a floor of black marble, glass walls, and minimalistic opulence. A woman in a navy suit approached her. “Clarke Mickelson? I’m Helen, Mr. Thorne’s assistant. This way, please.”
She followed silently, heels clicking like gunshots across the floor.
They reached a door — floor-to-ceiling, glass, frosted with the Thorne Industries logo. Helen knocked once and opened it.
“Your intern is here.”
Then she stepped aside.
Aria’s breath caught the moment her eyes landed on him.
Dominic.
The masked man from the gala.
The man whose hands had been all over her skin. Whose mouth had made her forget her mission. The man who had her legs shaking and her thoughts spinning that night.
And now… he was standing behind a massive desk, unmasked, suited, and devastatingly smug.
He looked up — and his eyes darkened with recognition.
“Well, well,” he said, voice low and deliciously dangerous. “If it isn’t my masked mystery.”
Aria didn’t flinch. “I go by Clarke Mickelson here.”
He raised a brow and leaned back in his leather chair. “Do you now? Funny. You didn’t give me a name the last time.”
“It was one night,” she said, tone clipped. “And that’s all it was.”
He stood slowly. Powerful. Confident. Every movement screamed privilege and control — like the world bent to him without resistance.
“It was a very memorable night,” he said, walking toward her. “And now you’re here, interning under me. What are the odds?”
Too damn high.
She couldn’t let this derail her. Couldn’t let him suspect anything. She had a plan — get inside, gain Victor’s trust, access the files, leak what she found. Burn the empire from the inside out. One night with Dominic Thorne wasn’t going to stop her.
Dominic walked a slow circle around her like a predator appraising prey.
“You didn’t even tell me a name,” he murmured. “But I’d recognize that mouth anywhere.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you always this inappropriate with interns?”
He smirked. “Only the ones I’ve already seen naked.”
Heat flared beneath her skin — rage, not embarrassment.
She stepped closer, closing the space between them, her voice low and venomous. “Listen, Thorne. I’m not here for whatever game you’re playing. You’re my superior, and I intend to do my job. So keep your memories to yourself and your hands in your damn pockets.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Amusement. Intrigue. Lust.
“Oh, you’ve got bite,” he said, licking his bottom lip. “I like that.”
She clenched her jaw. “You’re not going to distract me.”
“Funny,” he murmured. “Because you’re the only distraction I’ve had in weeks.”
He turned and walked back to his desk, pausing to glance at her over his shoulder. “But don’t worry, Clarke Mickelson. I’m a professional. I’ll be a good boy.”
Aria didn’t respond. She couldn’t — not without blowing her cover. Not without letting the fury in her chest explode.
He didn’t know. He didn’t recognize the truth in her eyes.
Victor Thorne had framed her father for embezzlement — a false scandal that destroyed their family name. Her father had gone to prison. Her mother had withered into depression. Aria had dropped out of law school to fight every damn day for justice that never came.
And now she was standing in Victor’s tower, pregnant with the heir’s child.
Dominic moved to the side bar and poured himself a drink — in the middle of the damn day. “Want one?”
“It’s 10 a.m.,” she said.
He shrugged. “So?”
“Hard pass.”
He sipped and studied her. “So, Clarke. You’re here to learn how to conquer empires?”
She tilted her chin. “I’m here to learn how to burn them.”
A pause. His brows lifted. He looked almost impressed.
“Well,” he said slowly, “stick with me and you’ll learn both.”
⸻
By the end of the day, Aria’s mind was spinning — not just from the information she had to absorb, but from the constant tension simmering between her and Dominic. He was arrogant. Brilliant. Infuriating. Every time he leaned too close to explain something on her screen, she caught the scent of his cologne and had to stop herself from remembering what his skin had tasted like.
He wasn’t making it easy.
“Need me to walk you out?” he asked when the clock struck six.
She stood, eyes cold. “I’d rather walk through fire.”
He chuckled. “Spicy. I’m enjoying this internship already.”
She turned on her heel, not bothering to look back.
Dominic Thorne was a problem. A charming, maddening, dangerous problem.
And the worst part?
She’d already let him in.
But not again.
The next time she got close, it wouldn’t be for pleasure.
It would be for revenge. 
- Writer
