Chapter 5

ELARA

By the time I'm dressed, I look different from how I feel.

Professional and put together. Elara Blake, Senior Marketing Manager, and not Elara Blake, the woman who spent the weekend being thoroughly debauched.

I put on a black pencil skirt with a tailored blazer and a white silk blouse that has a collar high enough to hide the mark on my neck. I French-braid my hair back into a tight, severe style. Apply makeup with a heavy foundation to hide the exhaustion, concealer for the shadows, and lipstick to draw attention away from my swollen lips.

By the time I'm done, I look exactly like I'm supposed to look.

With shaky hands, I grab my bag and head for the door.

The subway ride into Manhattan feels surreal. I'm surrounded by people living their normal lives, reading the news on their phones, sipping coffee, and complaining about their mundane problems, and I'm standing here trying to process the fact that my entire life has been turned upside down in less than a week.

My boyfriend cheated with my twin sister. I lost my virginity to a stranger. And now I'm about to lose my job.

What a fucking week.

When I emerge from the subway at Rockefeller Center, the morning sun is already beating down. It's going to be another scorching day. The kind of heat that makes the city shimmer and warp, like reality itself is melting.

Appropriate.

Cross Enterprises Tower stands sixty floors above Midtown Manhattan. Built with glass and steel, it gleamed in the sunlight like a sword stabbed into the heart of the city. I've walked into this building hundreds of times over the past three years. It's never intimidated me before.

Today, it feels like walking into the executioner's chamber.

The lobby is buzzing with unusual energy when I walk in. Clusters of employees stand in corners, whispering. The security guards are more alert than usual. Something's different.

"—finally back in the office—"

"—heard he's been gone for over a week—"

"—emergency meetings all morning—"

I tune out the gossip and head straight for the elevator bank. My hands are sweating. My heart is hammering. The email said 9 AM sharp, and it's already 8:47. I'm cutting it close.

The elevator is crowded. But I squeeze into a corner and watch the numbers tick up. Tenth floor. Fifteenth, which is where I'm supposed to be getting off. Twentieth. Thirtieth.

People get off at their floors. The elevator empties.

But I keep going up.

Fortieth floor. Fiftieth.

The higher I go, the faster my heart beats. I've never been above the fifteenth floor. The top ten floors of Cross Enterprises are executive territory, including the CEO, the board of directors, and top-level management. You need special clearance to even access them.

Fifty-eighth floor.

The doors open with a soft ding.

A woman is waiting at the reception. She looks to be in her fifties, with a severe bob, glasses on a chain, and a tablet in hand. She looks like every executive assistant I've ever seen: professional, efficient, and completely unimpressed.

"Miss Blake?"

My voice comes out smaller than I'd like. "Yes."

"This way, please."

She turns on her heel and starts walking without checking to see if I'm following. I hurry to catch up, my heels clicking too loudly against the polished marble floors.

Everything up here is different from the floors below. Where my floor has cubicles and open-plan offices and the constant hum of activity, this floor is all hushed luxury. Frosted glass walls and expensive art. The kind of furniture that costs more than my annual salary.

We pass offices with names I recognize from company emails. Sebastian Brown, COO. An empty office with "Chief Technology Officer" on the nameplate. A massive conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a view of the entire city.

And then we stop.

Double doors at the end of the corridor. Dark wood, with no nameplate. But they don't need one.

This is the CEO's office.

My mouth goes dry. My palms are sweating. I want to run.

"I..." I start, but my voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. "Is there a problem? I make sure to attend to whatever project has been given to me. I am sure I made no major mistake, but—"

"The CEO will explain everything." Her expression is completely neutral and professional. But there's something in her eyes. Curiosity? Amusement? "He's been... expecting you."

Expecting me.

What does that mean?

She knocks once on the door. A voice from inside responds, but I can't make out the words through the thick wood.

The assistant opens the door. "Miss Blake to see you, sir."

"Send her in."

That voice.

Deep. Commanding. With a rough edge that makes my skin prickle with recognition, even though I can't place it.

I step through the doors.

The office is enormous. Easily twice the size of my apartment.  And at the far end, behind a desk that looks like it was carved from a single piece of black marble, sits a man.

His back is to me. He's standing at the window, hands in his pockets, looking out at the city below. Tall...very tall. Broad shoulders in a perfectly tailored suit. Dark hair with silver at the temples.

Something about him is familiar, but I can't...

He turns around.

And my world tilts sideways.

No.

No, no, no, this isn't possible. What sort of miserable joke is the world playing right now?

Ice-blue eyes. Sharp, aristocratic features. The kind of face that belongs on magazine covers, blessed with all angles and shadows and masculine beauty. The same mouth that was between my thighs three days ago. The same hands that pinned my wrists above my head while he...

"Hello, Elara."

His voice washes over me like a physical touch, and suddenly I can't breathe.

D.C.

Damien Cross.

The stranger I spent the weekend fucking is my boss.

The CEO of Cross Enterprises is the man who took my virginity.