Chapter 1: Prelude to Disaster

I walked in through the front doors without breaking stride.

Muted conversation buzzed in the background, fingers tapping at keys, phones vibrating on desks. Normal stuff.

But as soon as I crossed the lobby, everything changed.

Not loudly. Just... a pause. A ripple. The kind that said everyone knew exactly who I was.

Conversations dipped. A few heads turned. Eyes flicked my way, then quickly looked elsewhere.

People noticed. They always did. At six-foot-three, I never blended in. The tailored suit only sharpened the edges of what lay beneath: power, control, the strength that kept people in line.

I wasn’t here to impress. Taking control was the only thing that mattered.

I scanned the room, my eyes sharp, tracking every subtle movement. Every shift in energy hit me like a pulse under the surface.

The elevator chimed. I stepped inside and hit the button for the top floor.

The elevator doors were almost shut when she slipped in, quick and quiet.

She held a tray full of coffee, balancing it like her life depended on it, and pressed herself into the back corner without a word.

Hair thrown up in a messy bun. No eye contact. Baggy clothes that didn’t belong in this building. 

She didn’t glance up, didn’t acknowledge me. Just stared at the floor like the whole elevator might swallow her whole.

Definitely not one of the usual polished types I’m used to.

Everything about her said one thing: don’t notice me. Which, of course, made her impossible to ignore.

My attention lingered. The way she tried to disappear into herself felt too intentional. Unlike my other employees, she didn’t try to engage.

There’s a mystery in her retreat.

The elevator climbed, and I felt her eyes track upward. From my shoes to my legs, lingering at my chest, then my shoulders. Finally, they met mine.

I lifted a brow, irritated. My lips pressed into a thin line. 

Really? She’s checking me out like I’m some damn statue on display?

The second our eyes met, she gasped.

Wide, amber eyes. Beautiful. Sharp. And full of panic.

Color hit her cheeks, and she looked away fast.

The doors opened, and she was out, moving like she’d been holding her breath the entire ride.

Damn. Those eyes.

There was something in them. Not just panic. Something that caught and held.

A twist pulled low in my gut.

By the time I reached my office, I’d almost shaken the elevator moment. Almost.

A knock at the door snapped my attention back.

“Come in,” I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.

The door opened.

Her.

She stepped inside, holding a single cup of coffee. Then she stopped. Froze, really.

Her eyes met mine. They widened for just a second before she looked down, fast. Too fast.

She didn’t know. Not until now.

Recognition. Shock. She hadn’t realized who I was.

She set the lone cup on my desk without a word. Petite, maybe five foot three, she moved like she wanted to disappear.

I looked up and saw her standing there. My focus locked on her.

"Is sneaking in and out without a word how you conduct yourself here?" My voice cut through the silence like a blade. 

“When you come into my office, you speak. Name and purpose.”

She flinched, eyes going wide for a beat before she caught herself and masked it.

“Good morning,” she said softly, barely above a whisper. "I brought your coffee."

She stiffened as I stepped closer. The space between us charged, tightening like a thread.

I didn’t move, just stood there, letting the silence stretch. She could feel it. The weight of me in the room.

Her breath caught, sharp and sudden.

Not fear. No, this was something else... a pull.

She feels it too.

She met my stare head-on, refusing to cower. Bold. Defiant. Measured. She wasn’t afraid of me. At least, not in the way she should be. Like she’d faced men like me before.

Interesting.

Then, as if realizing what she was doing, her gaze dropped to her feet, but not easily. Tension tightened in her frame, a silent war between instinct and submission.

She stood still, head down, but something in her body resisted. As if she had to force herself to shrink.

Why?

"Look at me when I talk to you," I commanded, my voice rough.

She did. And for a split second, my mask slipped.

Something in her eyes held me there.

I shut it down before she could see it, forcing my expression back to steel. The moment had happened, and I had a feeling she noticed.

A musical note pendant glinted at her throat. An orange diamond. Too expensive for someone in her position.

She was a contradiction.

What am I missing?

She adjusted her collar, as if sensing my scrutiny.

"What's your name?" I demanded.

"Tori." Barely above a whisper.

"Your full name." Impatience flared. I wanted to hear her say it.

She swallowed hard, her voice catching. "Victoria Valencia."

I let the name settle, watching for any reaction.

A shadow of something crossed her face, too quick to catch. A crack in her composure.

Noted.

"Good girl." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Her reaction was instant. Fire flashed through her amber eyes, deepening to molten gold. The unspoken challenge burned between us.

A smirk tugged at my lips.

That struck a nerve.

She has a temper. I filed it away for later.

Testing limits was second nature to me. It exposed weaknesses, revealed who people were beneath the surface. It worked in business and in life. And it was working now.

I leaned in, one hand pressed to the wall beside her. The space between us disappeared.

"You have something to say to me?" My voice stayed low, steady. Every word designed to test her. 

Push back, little fighter.

Her breath quickened, but she held my gaze. No flinching. No retreat.

The air thickened, heavy with something unspoken.

"Well?" I pressed, watching the war play out behind her eyes.

She let out a slow breath, then forced a smile that didn’t come close to her eyes.

“No,” she said, dragging the word out just enough to make a point.

Then, after a beat, she added, all sugar and bite, “Sir.”

A slow breath left me, amusement flickering to life.

She's got claws.

She turned to leave. Then I heard it. Two words, muttered under her breath.

"Pinche pendejo," she muttered.

"What did you say?" My voice came low, edged with warning.

She turned back, eyes wide, the picture of innocence. "I said, have a good day."

Liar!

She’d called me a fucking asshole.

I spoke Spanish. She didn’t know that.

I held her gaze, letting the silence pull tighter, inch by inch. Waiting to see if she’d break first.

She didn’t.

She's playing a game.

The realization settled in slowly, curling through me like a challenge.

Fine. Let’s play.

I let the silence breathe a little longer before speaking.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

She paused, then turned. Eyes cautious. Curious, but not letting her guard drop.

“From now on, you bring me my coffee first.”

Her lips parted, like a reply was coming, but it never did. She shut her mouth, pressed it into a tight line, and held whatever she was thinking behind her teeth.

No protest. No snark. Just a sharp nod before she turned and walked out.

The door shut behind her with more force than it needed.

Yeah. I’d be watching her.

A slow smirk pulled at the edge of my mouth as I leaned back, arms folding behind my head. Finally settled.

She has no idea what she just started.