Chapter One: The Fire Exit

Sophia Hart

My phone buzzed in my hand, the cold blue light of the screen hitting me like a slap in the freezing December air. I was leaning against the rough concrete wall of the fire exit landing, trying to breathe, trying not to fall apart. I read the message again, my stomach knotting tighter with every word.

Final Notice: Outstanding balance of $870,450. Payment must be received by the end of this week or a warrant will be issued for your father’s arrest. Further legal action will follow.

Tears stung my eyes. Mom’s hospital bills were already drowning us, and now Dad’s gambling debts were about to drag us all under.

Where would I start from when I don't have that money, neither do I have a rich relative who could help me or someone I could call for help?

Inside the ballroom, the Christmas gala was in full swing—laughter, music, clinking champagne glasses—but out here, it felt like another universe. I’d already been gone for twelve minutes. Too long. I knew I needed to pull myself together and go back inside before anyone noticed.

The heavy metal door creaked open behind me.

“Miss Hart,” Ethan Blackwell’s deep, commanding voice cut through the night. I jumped, nearly dropping my phone as I spun around. There he stood—my boss, tall and imposing in his perfectly tailored black tuxedo, his sharp gray eyes fixed on me like I was just another item on his agenda.

“Mr. Blackwell,” I said quickly, shoving the phone into my clutch. “I was just—”

“Twelve minutes,” he interrupted, stepping fully onto the landing. The door clanged shut behind him, sealing us in the cold quiet. “The gala is for networking, not hiding on the fire exit. Why did you leave the show?”

I swallowed hard, smoothing down the front of my simple black cocktail dress. “I… needed fresh air. It was getting stuffy inside.”

He stared at me for a long moment, that unreadable expression on his face. Ethan Blackwell was always like this—nonchalant, detached, the ruthless billionaire CEO who never let anything rattle him. But tonight, something felt different. He moved closer, his expensive cologne wrapping around me.

“Fresh air,” he repeated, his voice low. His gaze dropped to my lips, then slowly lowered. Before I could say anything else, he closed the distance in one stride.

His hand slid around my waist and yanked me forward until our bodies pressed together. My breath caught.

“Mr. Blackwell—Ethan—”

“So?” he murmured against my ear. “You don’t even like me.”

I needed the fresh air because it's a family emergency and I needed to be there.

Since you work under me, your problem is my problem.

I was shocked by what he said—at least I now know I am not alone.

'Then he kissed me—hard, demanding, like he owned me. His mouth claimed mine with raw hunger. I knew I should push him away, but my body betrayed me. Heat flooded through me as I clutched his jacket, melting into the kiss.

He broke away only to trail his lips down my neck. One of his large hands boldly cupped my breast through my dress, his thumb brushing over my nipple until it hardened under his touch. I whimpered, shame and desire twisting together as I felt myself getting wet, embarrassingly soaked for him.

I was kind of ashamed — someone whom I didn't like — how is it I am falling for him and I am already getting wet so easily?

“Fuck,” he growled. “I want you. I need you. I want to ruin you.”

He spun me around and pressed me against the cold concrete wall. My dress was hiked up roughly over my hips before I could even think. I heard the tear of a condom wrapper, his zipper, and then— He thrust into me in one brutal stroke. I cried out at the stretch. He was so big, so thick, and the condom tore almost instantly as my tight pussy clenched around him. He didn’t stop. Instead, he gripped my hips harder and fucked me rough and deep against the wall, each powerful thrust slamming into me. The wet, obscene sounds of our bodies echoed in the night air. His hand reached around to rub my swollen clit, and I came hard, biting my lip to keep from screaming as my walls pulsed around his bare cock.

Did you want me to stop or continue?

I didn't say anything; it was as if my voice was seized. I just looked at him, enjoying the pleasure he gave me. What a momentum, I said to myself.

Ethan followed right after with a low groan, burying himself deep as he spilled inside me.

'For a few seconds, there was only our ragged breathing.

He felt weak as he rested his body pressed against mine with his dick still inside my pussy. He looked into my eyes without saying anything.

He pulled out, fixed his clothes as if nothing had happened, and turned toward the door. I stood there trembling, his cum already starting to trickle down my thigh.

“Enjoy your Christmas weekend, Miss Hart,” he said coolly, not even looking back. “Resume early next week. We have a lot of work to do.”

“Ethan, wait—I need to—”

But he was already gone, the door swinging shut behind him. He left me there on the fire exit, dress disheveled, legs shaking, heart racing, with the weight of everything crashing down on me.

I sat on the concrete with my dress, thinking about what I had done—this is my worst night ever with my billionaire boss. Is he going to sack me? What eyes will he look at me with? Plenty of thoughts were coming through my head.

One week later, I bought pregnancy test strips.

'Four more to confirm, if it was true or not.

Shit! What the fuck have I done?