TEMPTING THE TYCOON

“Celeste, this won’t work!” Eula let out one of those heavy sighs that meant she was seconds away from smacking her forehead. “My God, this would be your thirteenth company!”

I paused mid-lipstick application and turned to look at her from the driver’s seat. My best friend had that scolding look on her face, like she was my mother instead of my ride.

“It’s your fault we got caught by my dad, so now I need a job to feed myself,” I shot back, my tone sharp and full of blame.

“And who came up with the brilliant idea to ruin your father and stepmother’s engagement party?” she snapped, eyebrows practically climbing her forehead. “I warned you, Celeste. But no, you had to go through with it.”

Her words stung more than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t used to being called out like that. Growing up as my mom’s only daughter, spoiled beyond belief, I always got whatever I wanted. But after she died six years ago, everything changed. And now that my dad was engaged again, it felt like he had erased her completely and replaced her with another woman.

“You know what?” Eula pressed, leaning closer. “Why don’t you just go to your dad and apologize? That’s all it takes. You know they can’t resist you. Stop making this harder than it has to be.”

“Stop lecturing me.” I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got stuck. “I’m not going to beg them.”

“Your dad could set you up with a higher position. You’re an heiress, Celeste. You’re meant for more than this.”

“I know.” My voice was quieter, but firm. “But apologizing, admitting fault, that means accepting he’s remarrying. Accepting he’s replacing my mom. And I won’t.”

Eula sighed like she was carrying the weight of the world. “Don’t you want him to be happy again?”

“And what about me?” I shot back, crossing my arms.

“Celeste…”

“Thanks for the ride,” I cut her off, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll see you later.”

Without giving her another glance, I stepped out and crossed the street.

In front of me stood the massive glass fortress that was Bettencourt Group of Industries, towering over the city like it owned the place. Which, honestly, it probably did.

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. This was interview number ten since graduation. And none of those companies wanted me because I graduated top of my class at Harvard or because I had glowing recommendation letters. No, they wanted me because of my last name: Koch.

Edmond Koch, my dad, was one of the most powerful businessmen in the country. Every company thought that hiring me would be some kind of trophy. But I refused to ride his coattails. If I was going to build a career, it was going to be because of me.

Which is why I was here. At Bettencourt. The company every business student whispered about in nightmares. The reason was Cedric Bettencourt, the CEO. Rumor had it he was Lucifer reincarnated. He had made plenty of my classmates cry during interviews. And I had a feeling I was about to be next.

With one last sigh, I pushed through the giant glass doors and made my way to the front desk. Sliding off my sunglasses, I flashed the receptionist my most dazzling smile and leaned on the counter just enough to be charming.

“Yes, ma’am? How can I help you?” His grin stretched wide, practically boyish.

“Good morning.” I tilted my head slightly, keeping my voice light. “Can you tell me where the interviews for Cedric Bettencourt’s new assistant are being held? I’m scheduled today.”

His cheeks went pink for half a second before he composed himself. “Nineteenth floor. Elevator’s on the left.”

“Thanks.” I winked and sauntered toward the elevator, my heels clicking against the marble floor.

Inside, I hit the button for nineteen and retreated to the corner, flipping through my resume like it was going to save me.

At the third floor, the elevator stopped. Someone stepped in. My eyes dropped from my phone to a pair of very solid legs in a tailored suit, then up to broad shoulders and dark hair. He could not have been much older than thirty.

“Hi, I’m Celeste Koch.” I stuck out my hand with a bright smile. He did not even glance at me. Just stared straight ahead.

“Are you here for the interview too?” Nothing.

“Okay, well, if you are, good luck.” I forced a laugh. “I’ve heard the CEO is impossible to please. A total nightmare.”

That finally got him to turn his head. His eyes, dark and intense, landed on me.

“Really?” he asked, voice low.

“Yeah.” I nodded confidently. “He’s probably some grumpy old guy in his sixties, living alone with his dogs in some creepy mansion. But don’t worry. I’ve got this job in the bag.”

He let out a quiet sound, something between a grunt and a chuckle, and looked away.

“What? You don’t think so?” I pressed, smirking. “Come on, no one can resist this. Not even Lucifer.”

That made his jaw tighten.

“Lucifer?” he repeated.

“Cedric Bettencourt,” I whispered dramatically.

“Is that what people call him?”

“Oh yeah. Lucifer, Devil, Monster. Take your pick.”

He just nodded and stepped out when the elevator hit thirteen, leaving me alone to ride up to nineteen.

When the doors opened, chaos practically swallowed me. People darted back and forth, reorganizing papers, clearing desks, fixing things like their lives depended on it.

“What’s going on?” I asked one of the assistants.

Her eyes went wide. “Mr. Bettencourt just arrived. If you love your life, sit down.”

I blinked, but went back to the waiting area. Everyone else waiting for interviews sat stiff as statues, like lambs lined up for slaughter.

A crowd of employees swarmed someone in the hall, rattling off updates and files. I tried to catch a glimpse, but he disappeared too quickly, leaving the whole floor exhaling in shaky relief.

Is it too late to run now?

Before I could think too hard, my name was called. My chest tightened, but I stood, fixed my coat, and walked toward the conference room. Everyone stared at me with pity, which did wonders for my nerves.

He’s just a man, I told myself. Just a man.

I pushed open the glass door with a bright smile and froze.

Sitting at the head of the table was the man from the elevator.

“Shit…” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Three sets of eyes shot to me. Two belonged to older men, but I did not even register them. My gaze locked on him. The man I had called Lucifer. The Devil. A monster.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Koch.” His cold, deep voice cut through the air, making my stomach drop.