Chapter Seven

# Mia

What the actual fuck.

A thousand thoughts crashed through my mind. How does one take over a company overnight?

I flushed in shame as yesterday's events replayed in my head. Matthew Foster definitely looked like the kind of man who could pull off something like this. That shame curdled quickly into anger when I thought about what his takeover meant for Renson's Corporation.

I turned to Gladys.

"Is he here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

"Oh, you mean your boyfriend?" she said with a smirk.

I let a flicker of my irritation slip through, enough for her to know exactly how I felt about this situation. *Though you touched yourself thinking about him yesterday,* a treacherous voice in my head whispered. I ignored it.

"He's upstairs, in Benjamin's former office," she finally said. "Hopefully he's better than he was." She gave me a knowing look and walked away.

I exhaled slowly. It was no secret our previous employer was an asshole, to put it mildly. He'd spent more time chasing skirts than doing his actual job, and the company would've sunk years ago if not for the work Clara and I put in.

Oh, shit. Clara.

I fished out my phone and switched it on. The screen lit up with dozens of messages and missed calls — half of them from Clara. I decided I'd deal with her later.

---

The elevator ride to the top floor felt longer than usual. Each ding of the floors passing only tightened the knot in my stomach. By the time the doors slid open, I'd already rehearsed and discarded half a dozen versions of what I'd say.

Benjamin's old office loomed at the end of the hall, its frosted glass now bearing a simple brass plate: Matthew Foster – CEO.

I hated how official it looked already.

I knocked on the door and entered the moment I heard, "Come in."

Matthew sat behind the desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, his attention fixed on the laptop in front of him. Sunlight streamed through the wide windows, catching in his hair, making him look irritatingly composed — like he belonged here.

Benjamin's office had always carried a suffocating air, as though every piece of furniture was chosen to intimidate. Somehow, Matthew's presence seemed to strip away that oppressive weight, replacing it with something calmer… though no less commanding.

I decided right then on my strategy: ignorance.

"You're late," he said, his voice sliding over me like warm velvet — stern, professional, yet carrying a knowing edge. His grey eyes met mine, filled with a quiet amusement that only deepened my resolve. "Sit."

I took a slow breath and sat down, choosing to ignore his comment. Instead, I said in my most civil tone, "Congratulations on your new feat, sir. But I would like to discuss what this takeover means for the company."

"Relax, Miss Patel," he drawled. "I already had an angry-looking woman talk to me about it. I am well aware of the incoming shipments and they will be dealt with."

"Dealt with by whom?" I asked. It seemed Clara had already been here to raise the same concerns, which threw me slightly off my game, but I still had to ensure he didn't push the issue back on us.

"You and I, of course," he said with a straight face. "I heard you are the most capable employee here, and I trust you'll prove that to me while we tackle this problem."

"I have a partner, sir…"

"Ah yes! The angry-looking woman. I would have included her, but she's a tad too controlling for my liking. You, however, are free to consult her anytime you please."

I nodded, though I didn't like the idea of working alone with him one bit. "What are your plans for this company, Mr. Foster?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. It would be a disaster if he intended to turn everything upside down.

"That is none of your business, Miss Patel," he said flatly. "Anything else?"

Fine. Since he wanted to play dumb. "The other thing, sir."

He arched a brow and smirked. Suddenly, professional Matthew Foster seemed to vanish.

I swallowed. "The part about you courting me, sir. I don't think that would work."

He stood and moved to sit on the table directly in front of me, his frame casting a shadow that felt far too close. "Why not, Mia? There's clearly an attraction between us. Would you not like to explore it?"

I ignored the way his tone seemed to stir something I'd rather not acknowledge. Straightening in my seat, I said, "We were both drunk yesterday, and you've mistaken whatever happened as attraction. Besides, this is a work environment — such things won't work."

Matthew chuckled lightly, the sound unsettlingly confident. "Whatever happened yesterday? Do you mean the part where we kissed each other senseless, or the groping, or the part where we almost did more?"

I clenched my jaw, fighting to keep my expression neutral though I felt anything but neutral — not with the desire coursing through me. "Like I said, sir… we were drunk."

"I was not drunk, Mia," he replied evenly. "So I quite remember what happened."

I stared at him in disbelief. He wasn't drunk?

"Are you admitting to taking advantage of me?" I asked.

He stood and stepped closer. He suddenly pulled me up, my body pressed against his, and I gasped reflexively, putting my arms around him. He put his leg between mine, his knee touching my thigh. I almost groaned at the sensations going through me. He looked deep into my eyes.

"Let's just say," he murmured, "the lewd moans that came out of your mouth were not a clear indication that I was forcing you, Mia."

Before I could mask what his words did to me, his lips came crashing on mine and I moaned into his mouth, returning the kiss. Realizing what I was doing, I discarded politeness and dashed out of the office like I was on fire.