The Playboy
1552 Words
Harper waited until her hands stopped shaking before she left the supply closet.
She walked back to her desk, forcing herself to look calm, professional, unbothered. The office was buzzing with the usual afternoon energy—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, colleagues chatting near the water cooler.
No one looked at her twice.
No one knew she'd just been pinned against a wall by the CEO.
No one knew she was a spy.
She sat down at her desk and stared at her computer screen. The Hudson Yards proposal was still open. She was supposed to be finalizing the zoning analysis.
Instead, she was replaying every word Cole had said.
"I know who you are."
"You're a spy."
"When you're in my arms, none of it matters. You're mine."
She shook her head violently. Focus. You have a job to do.
She opened her email. Scrolled through messages. Answered three that required her attention. It was mechanical, automatic—her body going through the motions while her mind stayed stuck in that supply closet.
Then her phone buzzed again.
She glanced down.
The Benefactor: I need proof. Send me something that shows you're close to him.
Harper's stomach tightened.
Harper: What kind of proof?
The Benefactor: A photo. A recording. Something I can verify.
She looked around the office. Cole was nowhere in sight.
Harper: I can't do that right now. I'm at work.
The Benefactor: Figure it out. Or the deal is off. And you know what that means.
Harper's blood ran cold.
Her mother's medical bills. Her father's debt. Everything she'd been working for—gone.
She typed:
Harper: Fine. I'll get you something by tomorrow.
The Benefactor: Good girl.
She shoved her phone into her bag and took a shaky breath.
She was trapped.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Harper went through the motions—attended a team meeting, reviewed the zoning analysis, responded to emails. But her mind was elsewhere. Always on him.
By the time 5 PM rolled around, she was exhausted.
She gathered her things, ready to escape. Ready to go home and collapse.
But as she walked toward the elevator, she felt a hand on her arm.
She spun around.
Cole.
He stood there, all dark suit and storm-gray eyes, looking like he'd just stepped off the cover of a magazine. His expression was calm, but there was heat underneath it. Something hungry.
"Leaving so soon?" he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
"I'm done for the day." She tried to pull her arm back. He didn't let go.
"I was hoping we could talk."
"We've talked enough." She glanced around. People were watching. Not everyone—but enough. "You're going to get me fired."
He smiled. "I'm the CEO. I can't get you fired."
"You know what I mean."
"Harper." His voice dropped lower, intimate, almost a whisper. "Have dinner with me."
Her heart stopped. "What?"
"Dinner. Tonight." He stepped closer, his hand still on her arm. "There's a restaurant I've been wanting to try. I think you'll like it."
"Cole, I can't—"
"It's a business meeting," he said smoothly. "I want to discuss the Hudson Yards proposal. Your work has been exceptional. I'd like to hear your thoughts directly."
She stared at him.
Business meeting.
Right.
She knew exactly what this was. He was still playing his game. The spy who confronted her in the supply closet was now pretending to be just a CEO with a crush.
She should say no.
She should walk away.
But his eyes were burning into hers, and her body was already betraying her.
"Fine," she heard herself say. "One drink. That's it."
His smile widened. Devastating.
"My car is waiting."
---
The restaurant was called Aura.
It sat on the 55th floor of a building overlooking Central Park. The views were breathtaking—the skyline glittering like a sea of diamonds, the park stretching out below like a green oasis in the middle of the concrete jungle.
The tables were candlelit. The wine list was longer than most novels. The food was exquisite.
Harper had never been anywhere like it.
"This is... a business meeting?" she asked, looking around at the opulent space.
Cole smiled, motioning for her to sit. "I take all my business meetings here."
"Liar."
"I take the important ones here." He sat across from her, his eyes never leaving her face. "And you, Harper, are very important."
Her heart fluttered.
Stop it. This is part of the game. He's playing you.
But it didn't feel like a game.
The waiter arrived. Cole ordered for both of them—a bottle of expensive wine, appetizers, entrees. He didn't ask her preference. He just knew.
"How do you know I like red wine?" she asked.
"I pay attention." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I noticed you drinking gin and tonic at the bar. But you were grimacing. You don't actually like gin, do you? You were just trying to look sophisticated."
Harper blinked. "How did you—"
"I told you. I pay attention." He reached across the table and took her hand. His thumb traced circles on her palm. "I notice everything about you, Harper."
She couldn't breathe.
"Cole, I—"
"Don't." His voice was soft. "Don't overthink it. Just enjoy the evening. Let yourself be here."
She wanted to pull her hand away. She wanted to run. She wanted to remind herself that this was a mission, not a date.
But his touch was warm, grounding, impossible to resist.
"I can't figure you out," she admitted.
"Good." He smiled. "That's what makes it fun."
---
The dinner was exquisite.
The wine was smooth. The food was incredible. But Harper barely noticed any of it.
All she noticed was him.
Cole was charming, attentive, and devastatingly seductive. He asked her about her childhood, her dreams, her favorite books. He listened like every word she said mattered.
He touched her constantly—a brush of his hand on hers, a whisper in her ear, a lingering gaze that made her feel like the only woman in the room.
"Why are you doing this?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Doing what?"
"Pretending like..." She trailed off. Like you don't know I'm a spy. Like the supply closet never happened. Like you're just a man who wants me.
Cole's expression didn't change. His eyes held hers, steady and unreadable.
"Because I want you," he said simply. "And I don't want to complicate things."
That was it.
That was all he said.
But Harper could feel the weight behind the words. He was telling her something without telling her anything at all.
He was letting her make her own choice.
---
The night ended too soon.
Cole walked her to her apartment, his hand on the small of her back, his presence warm and solid beside her.
They stood outside her door, the city humming below them.
"Thank you," Harper said softly. "For tonight."
"It's not over yet." He stepped closer, caging her against the door. His body was warm, his eyes dark. "I still haven't said goodnight."
Harper's heart pounded.
He leaned in. His lips hovered an inch from hers.
"Cole—"
"Shh." He brushed his thumb across her lower lip. "Just this. Just us."
Then he kissed her.
It wasn't like the supply closet—desperate, hungry, claiming. This was different. Slow. Languid. Devastating.
He kissed her like he had all the time in the world.
Like he wasn't a billionaire CEO with a company to run.
Like she wasn't a spy sent to destroy him.
Like they were just two people who'd found something rare and precious.
When he finally pulled back, Harper was breathless.
"Tomorrow," he whispered against her lips. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She nodded, unable to speak.
He kissed her forehead, then turned and walked away.
Harper watched him disappear down the stairs.
She leaned against her door, her heart racing, her mind spinning.
What was happening to her?
She was supposed to be using him. Seduce him. Steal the drive. Walk away.
Instead, she was falling in love.
Harper unlocked her door and stepped inside.
She didn't turn on the lights. She didn't move. She just stood there in the darkness, replaying every moment of the night.
His voice. His touch. His kiss.
She pressed her palm to her chest, trying to slow her racing heart.
Her phone buzzed in her bag.
She pulled it out.
The Benefactor: I saw you tonight. You looked cozy.
Harper's blood ran cold.
She looked around the dark apartment. The shadows seemed to move. The silence felt heavy.
The Benefactor: Don't forget who's in control. You have six days.
Harper typed:
Harper: How did you know where I was?
The Benefactor: I always know where you are. Now stop asking questions. Find the drive. Or lose everything.
Harper's phone slipped from her fingers.
She was being watched.
The Benefactor had been there tonight. Maybe in the restaurant. Maybe on the street. Maybe right outside her door.
She looked toward her window.
The curtains were open.
And across the street, in the building opposite hers, a light flickered in a window.
Someone was watching her.
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