6

I spent the entire morning avoiding mirrors.

Because every time I caught my reflection, all I saw was the girl who almost let her Zane Wilde take her apart in his office yesterday — the girl who let Zane Wilde kiss her, and claimed her like she belonged to him in her dream last night.

I wasn’t expecting anything that morning.

Not a call.

Not a message.

And definitely not him.

After the almost-mistake in Zane Wilde’s office — that kiss that still made my knees weak when I remembered the way his breath brushed my cheek — I had decided distance was the safest choice.

Avoid him.

Avoid his company.

Avoid the gravitational pull of his existence.

I had almost succeeded too… until my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I nearly ignored it, but something inside me insisted.

The moment I picked up, a bright, crisp voice filled my ear.

“Hello, is this Vivian Upton?”

“Yes?” I said cautiously.

“Wonderful. This is Elise Hart, Mr. Wilde’s executive assistant.”

My stomach dropped.

Zane’s assistant.

Calling me.

The next morning.

Nothing good could come from that combination.

“I’m calling to congratulate you,” Elise continued. “Mr. Wilde has selected you as the new PR consultant for his international media expansion.”

I blinked.

I didn’t speak.

I wasn’t sure I was breathing.

“I—sorry,” I stammered. “I think you have the wrong person, I applied as a copywriter.”

“No, Miss Upton,” she said with a polite laugh. “Mr. Wilde was very specific.”

Specific.

Zane Wilde didn’t do specific.

He did calculated. Controlled. Intentional.

“Specific… how?” I asked, dread and heat tangling inside me.

Elise didn’t hesitate. “He requested you by name.”

My pulse tripped.

This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, Miss Upton.”

“But I didn’t apply for that position.”

“Mr. Wilde said you’d understand.”

Understand?

Understand what?

All I understood was that the man who almost kissed me senseless in his office was now pulling me directly into his world — professionally, publicly, permanently.

“He also asked me to send you your travel schedule,” Elise continued. “You’ll be accompanying the team on select international trips starting next week.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

Travel.

With him?

“Elise, I appreciate the opportunity but—”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said lightly, “Mr. Wilde said he’ll speak to you personally if you have concerns.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Zane Wilde wanted to speak to me.

About a job that put me at his side.

A job that made avoiding him impossible.

“Orientation will begin tomorrow morning at nine,” Elise added. “Congratulations again. We’re excited to have you.”

Then she hung up.

I stood there, phone still pressed to my ear, feeling like the floor had tilted beneath me.

My chest felt too tight.

My skin too warm.

My thoughts too loud.

Zane Wilde requested me.

Requested.

As if I were… chosen.

Why?

Because of the kiss?

Because he wanted control?

Because he wanted to watch me unravel slowly?

Or worse…

Because he wasn’t done with me.

I sat on my couch, fingers trembling as I set the phone down.

This didn’t feel like a job offer.

It felt like a summons.

And the terrifying part?

A small, reckless part of me already knew I was going to accept.

Even though I shouldn’t.

Even though it complicated everything.

Even though it tied me directly to the one man I had no defenses against.

But I needed the job.

My phone buzzed again.

One message.

From: Unknown

I trust my assistant reached you.

We’ll talk tomorrow.

—Z.W.

My stomach dropped.

He knew.

He knew exactly how shaken I was.

How easily one message could unravel me.

And as I stared at the screen, one truth settled into my bones:

This wasn’t an opportunity.

This was Zane Wilde pulling me closer…

…and it was so tempting.

----

By the next morning, I had convinced myself I was overreacting.

It was just a job.

A high-profile job, sure.

A job that could save me from my drowning in debts.

A job hand-picked by a man who had pressed me against his office door while whispering things no CEO should ever whisper to a potential employee…

Okay. Maybe I wasn’t overreacting.

But quitting before I even started wasn’t an option.

So I put on my most professional outfit — not sexy, not overly polished, just… safe — and made my way to Wilde Industries’ headquarters.

The elevator ride to the Executive Floor felt like ascending into another world.

Polished steel.

Soft gold lighting.

And silence so deep it vibrated.

The doors slid open.

People moved with purpose here — sleek suits, hushed voices, eyes sharp with ambition. It was the kind of place where mistakes weren’t forgiven, only replaced.

“Miss Upton?”

A voice snapped me out of my nerves. Elise — Zane’s assistant — smiled with perfect corporate grace.

“Good morning. Mr. Wilde asked that I bring you directly to him.”

My heart stuttered.

“Directly to him?” I echoed. “As in… right now?”

“Yes. He requested to brief you personally.”

Then she leaned in, voice softening.

“He doesn’t usually do that.”

Of course he didn’t.

Zane Wilde didn’t “brief.” He commanded.

Elise guided me down a long corridor, each step making my pulse flutter harder. Her heels clicked, crisp and confident. Mine felt shaky in comparison.

We stopped at the tall glass double doors — frosted, imposing, and guarded by two security officers who looked like they could lift cars with their bare hands.

Elise knocked once.

“Come in,” came a deep voice from inside.

His voice.

The sound alone sank into my skin.

She gestured for me to enter.

I inhaled.

Then stepped inside.

Zane Wilde stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to me, a dark silhouette against the skyline. Even from behind, his presence filled the room — sharp, heavy, intoxicating.

He didn’t turn around.

Not immediately.

Instead, he spoke in a calm, controlled tone that slid over me like silk.

“You’re late.”

My breath caught.

“I—I’m actually five minutes early,” I said.

He finally moved, glancing over his shoulder.

“Not to me.”

I swallowed hard as he crossed the room. His suit today was black, crisp, tailored to his body like sin. Those icy blue eyes swept over me — not inappropriate, but not safe either.

“Vivian,” he said, my name dropping from his lips too easily, “this job requires precision. Punctuality. Discipline.”

His gaze lingered a little too long.

On my mouth.

My neck.

My hands.

“And above all,” he murmured, “attention.”

“I’m… very attentive,” I managed to say.

“I know,” he replied, and something dark sparked in his eyes. “I remember.”

Heat flooded my cheeks as the memory of his body pressed against mine ripped through me — his breath at my ear, his hand on my throat, the desk behind my hips.

He took another step closer.

Too close.

“I trust Elise informed you of your responsibilities,” he said.

“She did,” I said, though my voice wasn’t steady.

“And you accepted the position.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

His eyes flickered.

“Because I would’ve been… disappointed if you hadn’t.”

My breath hitched.

This wasn’t professional.

This wasn’t normal.

This was something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

He reached out suddenly — not touching me, but close enough that the air shifted.

“Your team is waiting down the hall,” he said smoothly. “You’ll travel with me to Zurich next week.”

“W-With you?”

“Is that a problem?” he asked, tilting his head.

“It’s unexpected,” I whispered.

“Most things worth experiencing are.”

My heart pounded against my ribs.

He stepped past me, his shoulder grazing mine — intentional, unmistakable — and headed toward his desk.

“Vivian,” he said without looking back.

“Yes?”

“When you’re done with orientation…”

He paused.

“I want you back in my office.”

“For what?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Only then did he turn, eyes locking onto mine with quiet, devastating certainty.

“For clarity,” he said.

“And because I don’t like unfinished business.”

The air thickened between us.

He added, voice lower:

“And you and I, Miss Upton… have a great deal unfinished.”

My knees nearly buckled.

I stepped out of his office on unsteady legs.

The door clicked shut behind me.

I exhaled shakily.

This wasn’t a job.

This was a trap.

And the terrifying part?

I willingly fell into it.