Your only offer.

KATIE

I had barely blinked away the sting of rejection when a sleek black car, a Bentley, if I wasn’t mistaken, pulled up in front of me. The kind that didn’t just purr when it moved, it whispered power. For a second, I thought maybe Evan had found me, and my stomach twisted at the thought.

But the man who stepped out wasn’t Evan.

He was talk and broad shouldered, in a perfectly tailored suit that screamed luxury instead. He walked toward me like he owned every breath of air around him. His sunglasses caught the glint of the setting sun as he paused in front of where I sat, legs crossed, confidence dripping like expensive cologne.

“What’s a beauty like you doing sulking on a city bench?” he asked. His voice was rich and annoyingly charming.

I raised a brow, not bothering to hide the irritation in me. “Excuse me?”

He chuckled softly, then tilted his head. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me?”

I studied his face a moment longer—strong jawline, devil-may-care smirk, dark eyes that probably got away with too much. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. My mind was too filed up with the recent happenings in my life I couldn't dare venture into my past memories.

“I don’t,” I answered plainly.

He smiled as if he expected that and smoothly slipped a business card into my hand. “Volkov Stuart,” he said. “Heir to the Suttas Conglomerate.”

The name hit like a jolt.

Suttas. One of the Malorys’ biggest business rivals. We’d partnered with them before, cautiously and only when absolutely necessary when our business was flourishing and in the highlight. And he… he was that Stuart. The one with the reputation. The one every tabloid linked with a new woman each week. Such a playboy he was.

I stared at the card.

“Aren’t you on the wrong side of the battlefield?” I muttered.

He laughed, a low sound that turned more heads than I liked. “Rivals or not, you were once the golden girl of the Malory empire. I think we can both agree your current... position doesn’t suit you.”

No doubt, he knew too.

He gestured to the car. “How about we talk somewhere better than a park bench? I promise I don’t bite.”

I hesitated, heart thudding. This was the last kind of man I wanted near me; flashy, smooth, unpredictable. But then again… hadn’t I already been burned by the ones I thought I could trust?

“Alright,” I said, standing slowly. “But if you’re wasting my time, I walk.”

His smirk widened. “Fair enough, Miss Not-a-Malory-anymore.”

I should have expected it, but it still caught me off guard.

Volkov drove us through the heart of the city, winding up at a place that gleamed with glass, gold, and whispers of power—Le Marquis. I’d been here before, more times than I could count, but always in stiff corporate attire, seated next to my father or Mark, pretending to smile while brokering business deals I had no say in.

As we stepped out of the car, the doorman gave a small, surprised smile, bowing slightly. I could feel eyes follow me. Being known used to feel like honor. Now it just felt… haunting.

We were barely seated when a young waiter with dark curls, and a warm smile approached I remembered his face, though not his name.

“Miss Malory!” he greeted, eyes lighting up. “It’s so good to see you again. I hope you’re doing… good?”

That last word hung in the air a bit too long, his gaze searching mine. He didn’t need to say more...I understood. Are you really okay? Did everything they said about you in the press happen? That's what he meant to ask.

With a soft nod, I gave him the only answer I could: “I am.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, but Volkov casually leaned back in his chair and cut in smoothly, “We’ll be having Miss Malory’s favorite. I believe you know what that is?”

The waiter blinked at him, surprised, then glanced back at me. I hadn’t told Volkov anything. He just assumed. Or maybe he was sharper than I thought he was. From the way the waier talked to me, he must have guessed I was a familiar at the restaurant.

“Yes, sir,” the waiter said, composing himself. “Right away.”

He walked off, and I turned to Volkov, arching a brow. “So you’ve been doing your homework?”

He chuckled, swirling the glass of water in front of him. “I don’t invite just anyone to lunch. Especially not someone who could turn the entire Suttas-Malory rivalry into delicious history.”

I looked away, out the window, wondering what I was getting myself into.

Volkov leaned back in his chair, arms crossed with casual elegance as he studied me. “I don’t mean to pry, but what are you doing sitting outside banks looking like you just lost the world? You’re Katie Malory after all. A few calls, some name drops… you could rebuild your life in a heartbeat. Or has that crown slipped too far?”

I gave him a tight smile, picking at the napkin on my lap. “That crown’s been crushed to pieces, Volkov. I’m not the Katie Malory you’re thinking of anymore. My father disowned me...publicly. Mark left me like I was some rag he was done wiping his mess with. I mean, you know about it all. It's all on the news. I’ve tried getting loans. They all turned me down. Apparently, even the banks are quite up to date.”

He tilted his head, the playful gleam in his eyes leaving. “That’s… bad.” His voice held no sarcasm this time. Just honest surprise.

Before he could say more, the waiter returned, carefully placing a plate of lemon-seared salmon with truffle risotto in front of me, just the way I liked it. A glass of chilled white wine followed. The waiter gave me a polite smile before gliding away again.

I took a bite. The flavor hit me with a rush of nostalgia...and irony. Everything on that plate screamed old Katie. The one who had everything but owned nothing of herself.

“So,” Volkov drawled between bites, his tone sliding back into that confident silk, “you’re saying you’re free now. No family strings, no clingy ex-husband. Just you. That’s… incredibly dangerous.”

I glanced up, arching my brows. “Dangerous?”

He smirked, leaning forward. “Because now you’re too tempting. You always had that ‘off-limits’ glow. But now?” He let his eyes trail slowly, appreciatively. “Now I can flirt without guilt.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. Not again.

“You’re unbelievable.” I muttered.

“And yet,” he lifted his glass to toast, “irresistible.”

I hesitated for a moment, watching the way Volkov’s fingers played lazily with the stem of his wine glass, eyes fixed on me like he already knew the question forming in my mind. Instead of sitting here, listening to his flirty words, I rather make use of this opportunity.

I set down my fork, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“Volkov,” I began slowly, “you know what I can do. You’ve seen it firsthand. I’m not asking for charity. Just… a little push to get back on my feet. A loan. I’ll pay back every cent, I promise. You know I’m capable.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just studied me for a moment.

Then he shook his head. “I can’t help you like that, Katie.”

I blinked. “Why not?”

His jaw tightened slightly, and his voice dropped a notch, quieter. “Because of our companies’ history. Your father and mine—well, let’s just say it’s not a partnership that ended with wine and cigars. If I helped you financially, it’d be interpreted as a move. A statement. And I'm not ready to look my father in the eyes...over... this.”

My chest deflated a little. But before I could respond, he leaned forward, tapping his fingers on the table.

“However… I can offer you a job. My PA. For now. It’ll put money in your account, and honestly? You’d be doing me a favor. I’ve fired three in the past month.”

I stared at him. “Your PA?”

He nodded. “Unless you prefer sitting outside banks getting turned down.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s in it for me besides the paycheck?”

He grinned. “Connections. Access. A stable income. A foot back in the door. Think of it as your launching pad.”

I considered it. It wasn’t a bad offer, not at all. But something about the gleam in his eyes made me cautious. “Alright… I’ll think about it.”

He tilted his head, then added, almost too casually, “There’s just one condition.”

My brows creased. “Which is?”

He smiled wickedly, lowering his voice. “You can't say no to any of my requests and orders.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

Obviously, I knew where this was going. Someone of Volkov’s personality wouldn't give such condition without something big behind it.

He shrugged. “Within reason, of course. But if I say jump, you don’t get to ask why; you jump.”

I leaned back, a bit not surprised. “Sounds more like a leash than a job.”

“Call it what you want, darling,” he said, lifting his glass again. “But it’s the only offer on your table right now.”