Red flags and golden eyes

The man sitting across from me was either going to hire me or murder me, and honestly, the way this week was going, I wasn't sure which I'd prefer.

"Ms. Chen," Damien Sterling said, his voice doing that thing where it was somehow smooth and commanding at the same time, "tell me why you're really here."

I gripped my Target portfolio tighter and tried not to stare at his eyes. Because seriously, what kind of person had eyes that color? They were amber—like actual liquid gold—and they were currently boring into me like he could see every lie I'd ever told.

Including the one I was about to tell him.

"I'm interested in the Senior Marketing Manager position," I said, proud that my voice only shook a little. "Sterling Industries has an impressive reputation for innovation, and I believe my experience at Morrison & Associates would—"

"Your ex-boyfriend just got engaged."

I choked on air. Actual air.

"I—what?"

Damien leaned back in his chair, and I couldn't help but notice how the movement made his shoulders look even broader in that expensive suit. Not that I was noticing. Because that would be inappropriate during a job interview where he'd just casually mentioned the worst week of my life.

"Daniel Yates," he continued, like he was discussing the weather instead of my personal trauma. "Junior account executive. Dated you for two years, dumped you six months ago, and last Tuesday he proposed to Amanda Kim in the middle of the Morrison & Associates break room. There was a cake. Very awkward for everyone involved, I'm told."

My face was so hot I was pretty sure I could fry an egg on it.

"How do you—that's not—I mean..." I took a breath and tried to remember the confident woman I'd practiced being in the mirror this morning. "With all due respect, Mr. Sterling, my personal life has nothing to do with my qualifications for this position."

"Doesn't it?" He stood up, and that's when I realized exactly how tall he was. At least six-foot-three, maybe more, and he moved like... I don't know how to describe it. Like every motion was controlled and purposeful. It should have looked calculated, but instead it just looked natural. Predatory.

I stood too, because sitting while he loomed over me felt wrong on every level.

"I do my research on all potential employees," Damien said, walking around his desk toward me. He stopped about three feet away—close enough that I could smell his cologne. Something woodsy and expensive that probably cost more than my rent. "I need to know that the people working for me can handle pressure. That personal drama won't bleed into professional performance."

"I can handle pressure just fine," I said, lifting my chin. My heart was hammering, but I wasn't going to let this arrogant, gorgeous man see me sweat. "I've been handling Daniel's engagement with professionalism for the past week. I even congratulated them. So unless you have questions about my actual qualifications, I think we're done here."

I grabbed my purse and portfolio, ready to march out with whatever dignity I had left.

"Sit down, Ms. Chen."

It wasn't loud. It wasn't even rude. But something in his voice made me want to obey, which was weird because I'd never been good at following orders. I blamed it on the stress.

I sat.

Damien returned to his chair, and for a moment, he just looked at me. Really looked, like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

"You stood up for yourself," he finally said. "That's good. I don't need employees who'll roll over the second things get difficult."

"So... I'm not being kicked out?"

One corner of his mouth lifted in something that might have been a smile if it reached his eyes.

"Why would I kick you out? Your portfolio is excellent. Your campaign for the Jensen account increased their revenue by thirty-seven percent in six months. Your social media strategies are innovative without being gimmicky. On paper, you're exactly what this company needs."

I blinked. "On paper?"

"I needed to see if you'd crack under pressure. Marketing at this level isn't about pretty presentations and catchy slogans. It's about making decisions when everyone's second-guessing you. It's about standing your ground when someone challenges you." He paused. "You did that. Most people don't."

My brain was struggling to keep up. "So... this was a test?"

"Everything's a test, Ms. Chen. Life, work, relationships—especially relationships." Something flickered in his eyes when he said that word, but it was gone before I could identify it. "The question is whether you pass or fail."

"And did I pass?"

"You're still here, aren't you?" He pulled out a folder from his desk drawer and slid it across to me. "This is the contract. The salary is listed on page three. The benefits package starts on page five. Read it over. If you're interested, you can start Monday."

I opened the folder, flipped to page three, and nearly fell out of my chair.

"This... this has to be a typo."

"It's not."

"But this is—" I did the mental math. "This is almost double what I was making at Morrison."

"You're worth it." He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was obvious. Like I was supposed to believe that I—Maya Chen, who still bought her work clothes at discount stores and couldn't afford to fix the weird rattling sound her car made—was worth this kind of money.

"Mr. Sterling, I appreciate the offer, but I have to ask—why? You don't know me. We just met. And yeah, my portfolio is decent, but—"

"Decent?" He raised an eyebrow. "Ms. Chen, you're one of the most talented marketing professionals under thirty in this city. The only reason you're not working somewhere more prestigious than Morrison & Associates is because you're loyal to a fault. You stayed there because Daniel worked there, didn't you?"

The accuracy of that statement stung.

"I stayed because I liked my job," I said, but we both knew it was a lie.

"Loyalty is admirable," Damien said. "But misplaced loyalty will ruin your career. Take the weekend. Think about it. But I'll tell you right now—this offer won't be on the table forever. I need someone who can start Monday, hit the ground running, and help me close the Meridian deal by the end of the quarter."

The Meridian deal. I'd read about it in the business section. Sterling Industries was trying to acquire Meridian Tech, a merger that would make them the largest tech conglomerate in the Pacific Northwest.

"That's in six weeks," I said.

"I'm aware."

"That's impossible."

"Only if you think small." He stood again, extending his hand. "So what do you say, Ms. Chen? Are you going to play it safe, or are you ready for something bigger?"

I looked at his hand. Large, strong, with long fingers. No wedding ring, I noticed, though I wasn't sure why that mattered.

Everything in my brain was screaming that this was too good to be true. That there had to be a catch. That men who looked like Damien Sterling and offered salaries like this didn't just fall into your lap without consequences.

But I was so tired of playing it safe. Safe had gotten me a cheating ex and a broken heart. Safe had kept me in a job I'd outgrown years ago.

Maybe it was time to be reckless.

I took his hand.

The moment our skin touched, something weird happened. Like a jolt of electricity, but warmer. More intense. I could have sworn I saw his eyes flash—actually flash, like there was gold light behind them—but that had to be the stress playing tricks on me.

"I'll see you Monday, Mr. Sterling," I said, trying to ignore the tingling sensation in my palm.

"Damien," he corrected, still holding my hand. His grip was firm but gentle. "Call me Damien. And Ms. Chen?"

"Yes?"

His smile was slow and dangerous, and made my stomach do a weird flip.

"Welcome to the pack."