CHAPTER 2

Gerald Pierre leaned back in his chair, one leg over the other, as he watched the office door close behind his mother and her new assistant. 

A smile spread across his face. 

Jillian Richards. So that was her name.

He hadn't recognized her at first, not with her gaudy blazer and clean face. But the second their eyes met, it hit him like a shot of whiskey: her lips on his, her breathless laughter, and the sound of her moans in his ears as he rocked her world both literally and figuratively that night. 

What were the odds that he’d meet her here again?

He spun his pen around his fingers, his grin widening.

She had no idea who he was that night. He knew it the moment she walked into the bar with her friend, open-eyed and radiant in green. He'd watched her from across the room, and was instantly attracted to her. She had been a paradox of timid confidence—aware of the effect she had, but unaware of how to utilize it.

And here she was now, walking into his family’s building as if fate had a twisted sense of humor.

Gerald stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the city skyline. His image looked back at him in the glass—polished, powerful, and poised. The name Pierre carried weight in this city, and he wore it like a tailor-made suit. But still… Dominic's shadow always seemed to hang over him.

Dominic.

Even his brother’s name alone was enough to put a damper on his mood.

And now Jillian.

She was supposed to be a distraction for one-night. An amusement.

His jaw clenched.

No, he wouldn't let her mess with his head. Not when he had a chance to prove himself to his mother once and for all. Not with the CEO position hanging in the balance. He needed control and he was going to do it by ensuring she knew her place in the company.

And that was beneath him. He decided then, to go to his brother and turn him against Jillian.

_____________________________________________________

Jillian jumped when her office phone rang barely an hour into the workday. 

"Gerald Pierre would like to see you in his office.”

Her stomach twisted. What the hell does he want with me now? She thought as she slowly stood up, her heart in her throat, and made the mentally exhausting walk down the executive corridor.

She knocked on his door, and when she was given permission, she entered and already saw him standing at the window.

"Close the door," he said, not turning to face her.

She paused.

"Now."

She did as she was told, her palms growing sweaty. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of her forehead and she surreptitiously wiped it away.

He turned to her at last, his eyes scouring her like a blade. "So, you work here now."

"I didn't know—" she began, trying to defend herself and destroy any notion he might have that she came here on purpose.

He moved a step closer. "Didn't know what? Who I was?"

She nodded, keeping her head up.

Gerald laughed dryly. "Of course not. You don't strike me as the gold-digging sort. At least not the obvious kind."

Her cheeks burned and she was sure they matched her hair at this point. "Excuse me?"

He leaned in close, his voice low. "Whatever idea you have about us, about what happened, let me make one thing clear—it meant nothing. And it never happened. Got it?"

Her throat tightened. "I didn't plan any of this."

He towered over her now, all traces of his former charming self, gone. "Keep your mouth shut, do your job, and stay out of my way. Understand?"

Jillian's mouth opened, but she was speechless.

“And for your information,” he continued. “Maybe you should be more…  aware when sleeping with a stranger. Who knows, he might have hidden cameras ready to blackmail you.”

He stepped back, playing with his gold cufflinks. "Good talk, Jillian," he said with a dismissive tone.

And then, just as he turned to leave, he looked over his shoulder. “You might want to check your locker.”

She turned and left without a word, her eyes blurring, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her heels clicked on the marble hallway as she fled, holding her folder clutched tightly to her chest.

The locker room was empty. Jillian walked down the row slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She walked to the third locker to her right. Her locker. Inputting the code she’d been given earlier, the door opened.

Inside were her gym shoes, a backup cardigan… and a small black envelope sitting dead center. It had no name or address.

She opened it.

Inside was a printed photo. Slightly grainy. But unmistakable.

It was her.

Her. In that hotel room. Her head thrown back, his hands on her hips. The camera had managed to catch them in motion, mid-kiss, the lighting soft and damning.

Jillian’s stomach flipped.

No note. Just the image.

But the message was clear.

He had footage.

He had proof.

And he wasn’t bluffing.

Jillian didn’t let a single tear fall from her eyes, not even when she closed the bathroom stall and sat there for ten minutes, staring at the floor. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she pulled out her phone, and logged into my personal drive. There she began creating a private folder labeled “Contingency.” Then she opened her notes app and started writing down every detail she remembered about that night.

If Gerald wanted to play dirty, he wasn’t the only one who knew how.

When she was done, she returned to my desk, a fake smile in place, shoulders back. She caught Aria glancing at her as she passed and something about her look told her she already knew.

Or worse—Gerald had already started trying to ruin her life publicly.

The printer next to her cubicle whirred to life and a document slid out, stamped D.P. – Private Review.

Jillian froze.

Dominic Pierre.

She picked it up.

It was a project brief. Basic. But it meant something important.

He’d requested something from her.

And that meant she had a chance to be something more than just Gerald’s next cautionary tale.