My Ex-husband Is Now My Boss

Chapter One The Man Behind the Desk Three years ago, I walked out of my marriage with one suitcase, a broken heart, and a promise to myself. I would never look back. I had kept that promise. At least, I thought I had. Until the elevator doors opened on the thirty-second floor of Sterling International, and I saw the man I had spent three years trying to forget. My breath stopped. Everything around me seemed to disappear—the clicking heels of employees rushing through the marble lobby, the ringing phones, the distant sound of printers, even the receptionist speaking beside me. There was only him. Damien Sterling. My ex-husband. My new boss. I stared at him through the glass walls of the executive office. He stood with his back toward me, tall and impossibly composed in a perfectly tailored black suit. One hand rested against the desk while the other held a phone against his ear. Three years. Three years since I had last seen him. Three years since I had signed the divorce papers with shaking hands. Three years since I had convinced myself that whatever love I had once felt for him had died the moment our marriage ended. And yet, one look at him had brought it all back. Not the love. I refused to call it love. It was memory. That was all. A painful, unwanted memory. "Ms. Bennett?" The receptionist's voice pulled me back. I blinked. "Yes?" "You can wait here. Mr. Sterling will see you shortly." Mr. Sterling. The words felt like a slap. I swallowed. "Mr. Sterling?" She smiled politely. "Yes. The CEO." Of course. I almost laughed. When I applied for this position, I had researched Sterling International thoroughly. I knew the company was one of the fastest-growing financial firms in the country. I knew the CEO was young, ruthless, brilliant, and notoriously private. But I had deliberately avoided looking at his photograph. I had convinced myself that there was no possible way. Sterling was a common enough name. There were hundreds of men named Damien. There couldn't possibly be only one. I was wrong. So very wrong. The office door opened. A man stepped out carrying a folder. "Mr. Sterling wants you inside." My stomach tightened. I wanted to run. Instead, I stood. My heels sounded painfully loud against the polished floor as I walked toward the office. One step. Two. Three. Then I reached the door. I placed my hand on the handle. For a moment, I considered turning around. I could leave. I could tell them there had been a misunderstanding. I could find another job. I could go back to the tiny apartment I had been struggling to afford and continue sending applications until another company hired me. But I needed this job. Desperately. My savings were almost gone. My mother depended on me. And after three years of rebuilding my life from nothing, I wasn't going to let one man destroy everything again. Even if that man was Damien. I pushed the door open. "Come in." His voice. God. His voice hadn't changed. Deep. Controlled. Commanding. The same voice that had once whispered my name in the darkness. The same voice that had once told me I was the only woman he would ever love. I stepped inside. Damien looked up. For the first time in three years, our eyes met. His expression changed. Barely. But I saw it. The controlled CEO disappeared for half a second. His jaw tightened. His eyes widened. And something raw flashed across his face. Shock. Pain. Then anger. No. Not anger. Something else. Something I didn't want to identify. He slowly placed his phone on the desk. "Amara." Hearing my name from his lips nearly broke me. I forced myself to remain calm. "Mr. Sterling." His eyes narrowed. "You knew?" "I didn't." "You're telling me you had no idea who owned this company?" "I knew the company was owned by Sterling International." "That's not what I asked." I lifted my chin. "I didn't know you were the CEO." Silence. Damien stared at me. I stared back. Three years ago, I would have been the first to look away. Not anymore. I had learned how to survive without him. I'd learned how to sleep alone. How to eat dinner alone. How to celebrate birthdays without expecting a gift from him. I'd learned how to stop checking my phone for his messages. I'd learned how to stop wondering whether he regretted letting me go. I had rebuilt myself. And I would not allow him to see how badly my hands were shaking. Damien stood. He looked even more intimidating than I remembered. "You applied for the executive assistant position." "Yes." "To me." I frowned. "I applied to Sterling International." His jaw tightened. "Your resume was forwarded to my office." "I didn't know." He walked around the desk. Every instinct in my body told me to step backward. I didn't. He stopped several feet away. Close enough for me to remember his scent. I hated that I remembered. "Why didn't you contact me?" The question caught me off guard. I frowned. "Why would I contact you?" His expression hardened. "Because you needed a job." "I didn't need your help." "You could have asked." "I didn't want anything from you." His eyes darkened. "You wanted a divorce." I flinched. There it was. The word that had haunted me for three years. Divorce. I forced a breath through my nose. "Yes." "Do you still?" My heart stumbled. I looked at him. "What?" "Do you still want the divorce?" I almost laughed. "Damien, the divorce was finalized three years ago." "I know." "Then why are you asking?" He didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze moved over my face. Slowly. As though he was memorizing every detail. His eyes lingered on my hair. My lips. My eyes. Then he looked away. "I shouldn't have asked." "No," I agreed. Silence filled the room. I turned toward the door. "I'll leave." "Why?" "Because this is clearly a mistake." "Sit down." I stopped. The command was automatic. Familiar. The same tone he had used when we were married. I turned around. "I'm not your wife anymore." His expression shifted. For a moment, something painful crossed his face. "I know." "Then don't order me around." He stared at me. Then, unexpectedly, his mouth curved into the faintest smile. "You've changed." "People change." "Not you." I frowned. "You don't know me anymore." His smile disappeared. "I know you better than anyone." "No." I shook my head. "You knew me three years ago." He took a slow breath. "I've spent three years trying to forget you." My heart squeezed. I hated that my body reacted before my mind could stop it. "Then we're even." His eyes locked onto mine. "Are we?" I couldn't answer. Because the truth was, we weren't. Not even close. I had spent three years trying to forget him. But apparently, he had spent three years remembering me. I turned away. "I should go." "You're hired." I froze. "What?" "You're hired." I slowly turned back. "You haven't even interviewed me." "I don't need to." "Damien—" "Mr. Sterling," he corrected. I stared at him. He walked back behind his desk and sat down. "Your qualifications are excellent. Your references are exceptional. You have the experience we need." "Then why did you need to see me?" His gaze met mine. "Because I needed to know if you were real." My breath caught. He looked away first. "Your position starts today." I couldn't believe this. "You can't be serious." "I am." "You know this is inappropriate." "Probably." "We're divorced." "I remember." "You'll be my boss." "I am aware." "This could create problems." His eyes lifted to mine. "It already has." The quietness of his voice made my chest tighten. I looked toward the door. "I'll take the job." "I know." I paused. "Excuse me?" He leaned back in his chair. "You need the job." I stiffened. "Don't assume you know what I need." "I know you." "No. You knew me." His eyes followed me as I walked toward the door. My hand reached the handle. "Amara." I stopped. I didn't turn around. His voice was softer now. "Why did you really leave?" My fingers tightened around the handle. For three years, I had imagined this question. I had imagined telling him everything. I had imagined screaming. Crying. Demanding answers. Instead, I simply said: "Because you stopped choosing me." Then I opened the door. I walked out before he could see the tears gathering in my eyes. I didn't see Damien stand behind his desk. I didn't see him close his eyes. And I didn't hear the quiet words he whispered into the empty office. "I never stopped choosing you." --- By lunchtime, everyone on the thirty-second floor knew who I was. Not because I was the new executive assistant. Because I was the CEO's ex-wife. Apparently, secrets didn't survive long in Sterling International. I was sitting at my desk when a young woman appeared beside me. She leaned closer. "Is it true?" I looked up. "Is what true?" She lowered her voice. "You're Mrs. Sterling." I stared at her. "Ex-Mrs. Sterling." Her eyes widened. "Oh my God." I sighed. "Please don't." "I'm sorry." She glanced toward Damien's office. "Does he hate you?" "I don't know." "Do you hate him?" I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. She smiled knowingly. "That's not a no." Before I could respond, the door to Damien's office opened. He stepped out. His gaze immediately found me. The woman beside me straightened. "Good afternoon, sir." Damien didn't respond. He walked directly toward my desk. My heart began pounding. "Come with me." I looked up. "Where?" "My office." Everyone nearby suddenly became very interested in their computers. I stood. "Why?" "We have a meeting." "I wasn't informed." "I'm informing you now." I followed him. The door closed behind us. He walked to his desk and picked up a folder. "Tomorrow, you're accompanying me to a three-day business conference." I stared at him. "Three days?" "Yes." "Out of town?" "Yes." "With you?" His eyes met mine. "You're my executive assistant." "Of course." I forced a smile. "Why would I be surprised?" He stepped closer. "Because you're afraid." My smile disappeared. "I'm not afraid of you." "You're afraid of what being near me will make you feel." I stared at him. He was right. And I hated him for it. "I don't feel anything." His expression softened. "That's a lie." I looked away. "Is that all?" "No." He came closer. Too close. I could feel the warmth of his body. His voice dropped. "You may have divorced me, Amara." I looked up. His eyes held mine. "But you're not the only one who gets to decide when this story ends." My heart stopped. He stepped back. "Be ready at seven tomorrow morning." Then he walked away. I remained frozen. Because for the first time since our divorce, I realized something terrifying. I had spent three years believing I had escaped Damien Sterling. But now... I worked for him. And he clearly had no intention of letting me escape again.