Chapter 1: I Should Have Known Better

Sunlight spilled across the sheets.

Claire Bennett forced her eyes open, every muscle in her body aching especially somewhere she didn't want to think about.

She shifted, and the man beside her murmured in satisfaction, tightening his arm and drawing her closer against his chest.

Claire turned her face away, trembling from head to toe.

The man had a face carved for magazine covers, and right now it was slack with sleep. His eyes normally sharp enough to cut glass were closed, softening the usual weight he carried in a room.

Nathaniel Cross.

Her boss.

The memory came back in broken pieces, like a puzzle reassembling itself against her will.

Last night had been a dinner between Cross Enterprises and their new partner, Polaris Holdings. Nathaniel had gotten too drunk to stand, and it had taken everything she had to haul him back to his hotel room.

She'd barely caught her breath when the doorbell rang.

She'd meant to send the woman away until she saw the tears, and something in her recognized the same helplessness she felt every time her boss made an unreasonable demand of her. Against her better judgment, she drank the tea meant for him instead.

Two steps after closing the door, she knew something was wrong.

Heat crawled under her skin, her thoughts scattered, her vision swam. She'd stumbled back into the room, seen Nathaniel lying there, and clung to him like she wasn't herself anymore...

Now, lying here, Claire bit down on her lip, drowning in regret.

I am an idiot.

Why did I drink that tea for a stranger?

My boss he

No. I did that. I started it.

She wanted to cry. There was no time for that.

Gritting her teeth, she carefully peeled herself out of his arms. Just as she was about to slip free, he stirred behind her.

"Awake?"

Her heart nearly stopped.

His hand found her waist again, his breath warm against the back of her neck, thick with lazy contentment.

"Stay a little longer..."

Claire's fingers curled into the blanket. "Last night I"

Her voice cracked halfway through the sentence, and she froze, startled by the sound of it.

Nathaniel went still too.

The silence that followed stretched long enough to hurt.

She didn't need to see his face to know he'd just put it together that he was the reason her voice sounded like that. She heard him clear his throat, awkward for the first time she could remember.

His hand withdrew from her waist.

"I'm... sorry," he said, quieter than she'd ever heard him, thick with something like shame.

Claire's pulse roared in her ears. Before she could think it through, she'd wrapped the blanket around herself, rolled off the bed, snatched her clothes and bag off the floor, and bolted for the bathroom taking the only blanket with her.

Nathaniel blinked, then yanked his knees up to cover himself, staring at the closed bathroom door with the tips of his ears burning red.

"Claire"

She locked the door and slumped against it, letting the blanket fall.

She looked down at herself.

She'd braced for it, and it still made her face go hot. Faint marks bloomed across pale skin her throat, her collarbone, the inside of her thighs proof of exactly how far the ice-cold, famously untouchable Nathaniel Cross had lost control last night.

She turned the shower on full blast, letting the noise fill the room.

Sinking down in front of the mirror, she studied the wreck staring back at her and forced herself to breathe.

Don't panic, Claire. You cannot panic.

You know exactly who he is.

In this city, Nathaniel Cross was infamous for two things: his complete disinterest in women, and how mercilessly he dealt with anyone who tried to change that. His last personal assistant had shown up in a low-cut dress once, "delivering coffee." Security dragged her out within the hour. She wasn't just fired one phone call from him, and no company in the industry would touch her again.

Claire's whole body went cold at the memory.

She couldn't lose this job. She needed the money too badly.

Whatever happened last night had to disappear.

She met her own eyes in the mirror fair skin, but forgettable features. A rounded nose, plain single-lid eyes. Not enough to stand out at Cross Enterprises, where beauty was the baseline. Perfect, in other words, for a secretary no one looked at twice.

Hands shaking, she pulled a small bottle of remover from her bag and, with a careful swipe of a cotton pad along her nose, peeled away a thin, flesh-toned silicone piece.

The mirror caught the change instantly the once-heavy bridge of her nose straightened, the tip narrowed into a delicate point, her nostrils turned elegant and slim.

Next, she worked the glue from her eyelids, revealing eyes that tilted up at the corners, fox-sharp and striking even without expression.

This was the real Claire Bennett.

But this face had never felt like a gift. It had always felt like a curse she carried around, waiting to go off.

She showered fast, scrubbing away every trace of the night before, then pulled on her uniform: shapeless black trousers, a plain white blouse, and a black blazer two sizes too large, built to erase every curve she had. Over it all, she wrapped the hotel robe, burying "Secretary Bennett" completely.

Steadying herself, she opened the bathroom door.

Nathaniel stood with his back to her, buttoning his shirt. Sunlight traced the muscle along his shoulders as he moved.

He heard her, straightened, and turned around something almost hopeful flickering across his face.

Then he actually saw her.

Whatever warmth had been there froze solid and shattered.

"Who are you?" His voice went hard as steel. "Where's Claire?"

Claire dug her nails into her palm and made herself hold still. Zoe always said posture and voice are everything when you're pretending to be someone else.

Her voice was already ruined all she had left was the posture. She lifted a hand, twisted a damp strand of hair around one finger, and let her eyes curve into a slow, knowing smile.

"Mr. Cross. Last night, you held onto me and wouldn't stop calling me baby."

"Enough!"

Nathaniel raked a hand through his hair, fury twisting his handsome face the fury of a man who'd just realized he'd been played.

His stomach turned. He'd actually touched this woman?

The thought alone made him sick.

He crossed the room in two strides, seized her by the throat, and slammed her back against the wall.

The impact knocked the air from her lungs. Claire's face flushed red as she clawed weakly at his arm, unable to move him an inch.

In that moment, Nathaniel looked like something out of a nightmare and Claire, pinned beneath his grip, felt as fragile as glass about to shatter.

She forced the words out, one broken piece at a time.

"Mr. Cross... I like you. That's all. I know my place I won't cause trouble for you..."

"Get out.”