Chapter Two

Monday morning.

My head throbbed like someone was beating drums inside it.

And earlier this morning, my dick was hard.

She’d shown up again…in my dreams.

The girl from Noir.

She still hadn’t left a name.

The woman from last week. I’d gone back to the club, hoping to find her.

I didn’t.

The dress. The mouth.

The way she took me like she needed to forget the world and let me destroy hers…for a few hours.

I hadn’t even gotten her name.

Which pissed me off. I wasn’t the one who got left behind.

Let alone fucked senseless and ghosted before dawn.

Her lipstick was still on my neck when I woke up.

She’d vanished.

Part of me should’ve been angry.

But instead, I was hard.

Just the memory of her..her moans, her nails in my skin, the way she came on my cock like she’d waited her whole life for it.

Fuck.

I hadn’t stopped thinking about her. Not during the drive.

Not during the meetings.

Not even when I was staring at a million-dollar deal across the boardroom table.

No strings. No drama. Just heat and sweat and something that felt dangerously close to obsession.

I liked dangerous.

But I didn’t do feelings.

Love was a weakness. A learned one.

My mother taught me when she tried to buy my father's affection back with her body and got left with nothing but bruises and an empty house.

 I had watch mother put on her best dress, spritz her perfume, and wait by the door for the bastard of a father… like a woman about to meet her first love. She would fix his plate, rub his shoulders, offer herself to him in every possible way with her body, her care, her dignity.

But he never loved her. He didn’t even pretend to.

I remembered walking in on father not once, but many times with other women. On the couch. In their bedroom. Sometimes while mother was home. Sometimes while she stood there crying, begging him to stop.

I even remembered how I had walked in on father ontop my mom and how she had begged him to stop. but I didn't understand it all then.

Love was a Fvcking weakness. And I didn't want to be as weak as mom.

Worst? She taught me again when I was 12, she finally disappeared with no goodbyes, no trace,  leaving me alone with that monster.

I built myself without them.

And I’d sworn I’d never need anyone to build me again.

So why the hell did I want to find her?

I didn’t even know her name.

Just her scent.

The sound of her voice when she came.

The way her eyes dared me to ruin her while her body begged me not to stop.

She was fire.

And I wasn’t done burning.

My phone buzzed…a text from Lucas, my younger brother. I ignored it.

“I will be back home soon bro.” was the text he sent.

Lucas was soft…naive, he didn’t belong in this world.

I thought of her again—the girl with the mouth that knew exactly what it was doing, and the eyes that gave away nothing.

I’d meant for it to be one night.

A distraction. Something primal to get me through another week of liars and overpriced scotch.

But she walked out like she was the one calling the shots.

I was used to being in control.

And now, I wanted to see what she looked like when she wasn’t.

I groaned, shoving the file in front of me aside.

My new PA was supposed to show up this morning.

But clearly, she didn’t value the job.

10:30 a.m.

No call. No show.

I was just about to grab the phone and cancel her contract before it even began.

When a knock hit the door.

“Come in,” I said, voice sharp.

The door opened.

And she walked in.

“I’m so sorry, Sir..”

I snapped to look at the person at the door and my body stiffened.

It was Her.

The girl from Noir.

The girl who left my bed empty and my cock half-hard in the morning.

Same deep Brown hair . And those almond-shaped eyes.

Same lips…softer pink today, but still full and sinful.

A navy blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers that hugged her hips like sin.

But her eyes.

The eyes never lie.

And hers? They said she knew.

She froze the moment she saw me.

I could almost hear her heartbeat.

One. Two.

Then her chin lifted…like she’d walked into a boardroom, not a memory.

I could play it cool.

Pretend I didn’t remember how she gasped my name like a prayer.

Or how she clawed my back so hard I bled.

But I wasn’t going to.

I smiled.

Fearing my truth, I looked into my computer, pretending to be buried in work.

“Go on,” I said coolly, without looking up.

“You were about to give an excuse.”

She hesitated, just for a second. But I felt it.

She stared, searching for a lie that might pass for truth.

Then came the stammer.

“I… I..the traffic was bad.”

She lied.

I didn’t need to look at her to know it.

Her voice trembled slightly, too controlled. Her posture was just a little too perfect. And silence dragged between us like tension on a wire.

A slow smile curled at the corner of my lips.

She knew exactly who I was.

And every shift in her stance, every flicker in her gaze, every inch of the way she clutched her tablet like a lifeline, It told me the same thing..

She remembered.

I moved my chair back, slow and deliberate, letting the silence stretch thin.

She flinched…barely, but I caught it.

I stood, adjusting the cuff of my shirt, buying myself a second to drink her in from this new angle.

Up close, she was even more distracting.

Professionally dressed, sure, but her body wore restraint like it was begging to be undone.

“I don’t tolerate lateness,” I said, my tone low, measured, the kind of calm that hides fire.

“And I hate being lied to.”

She swallowed hard, and for a second her eyes dropped, betraying just the tiniest crack in her composure.

Good.

Let her feel it. I was in control now.

“Let's start with a cup of coffee.” I added and she gave me the..”are you being serious.” look. But ofc she turned to go get it.

She returned minutes later with the coffee, careful fingers gripping the cup. Her steps were steady, her face composed, but I saw the way her throat bobbed when our eyes met again.

She reached my desk and leaned slightly to place the cup down.

And the cup slipped.

The dark liquid splashed across the glass surface with a soft hiss, dangerously close to the files, but not a single drop touched the documents. Still, the sound it made? That was enough.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I barked, standing so fast my chair rolled back.

She froze.

“I…”

“No. Don’t even start.” I pointed a finger at the mess like it was some irreversible catastrophe. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if that touched the contracts on this table? One mistake—one—can cost millions, do you hear me?”

She blinked fast, clearly trying to hold her reaction in.

“I said I’m sorry,” she said, voice soft.

“No. You don’t get to be sorry. You don’t get to be this careless!”

“I didn’t mean to spill it…”

“You shouldn’t have spilled it at all!”

Her mouth parted, then clamped shut. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

And then she snapped.

“Oh for God’s sake!” she yelled, loud enough to make my heart jolt. “It’s just fucking coffee! Nothing got ruined! Your precious papers are fine—your table didn’t catch fire..I’ll clean the damn mess!”

She grabbed a tissue from the edge of my desk and bent to wipe the spill. Her hair fell forward, and her hands moved fast and sharp, almost like she wanted to attack the table.

I should’ve let it go.

But her voice was still in my head. That scream. That raw anger. The fire in her eyes.

She stood straight again, breathing hard, lips parted..

“You’re reckless,” I said lowly.

“And you are..”

“I’m what?” I stepped in, closing the space until her back hit the edge of my desk. No escape now. Her breath was shallow, her eyes locked on mine.

“This is my company,” I said, voice low and tight. “You work for me. So you learn to control your tongue.”

Her jaw clenched, but her voice stayed cool. “Or what? You’ll write me up for not worshiping you?”

I let out a sharp breath, half a laugh, half frustration.

“No,” I said. “But I could make you beg me with it.”

She blinked once. The air between us tightened.

And then she tilted her head, lips curving slightly, voice a breathy dare:

“And how do you intend to do that?”

Fuck.

My control snapped for a second.

“I don’t even know why I’m this mad at you,” I said, voice rough. “I don’t know if it’s because you were late… or because you spilled the coffee… or if it’s because you walked out that night like I was the forgettable one.”

Her expression shifted. The sharpness in her eyes flickered, just for a heartbeat.

“Oh- do I perceive a crushed ego?” She teased.

“I should fire you,” I growled.

“Then do it,” She snapped.

But I didn’t.