Xander’s POVThe phone on my desk clicks off, and I picture her—Miss Aria Vale—sitting at her desk, hands tightening on the receiver, pulse racing. She knows I want to see her. She doesn’t know why.The sound of her heels on the marble floor is faint, but deliberate, as she approaches. I glance up when she enters, all soft edges and nervous glances, trying so hard to hold herself together.I can practically smell her anxiety. Fear, too, but laced with something she’s trying to hide.“Were you in my office yesterday morning?” I ask, stepping out from behind my desk, watching her flinch.Her denial is shaky, unconvincing. The camera feed says otherwise, and I let it play, her image flickering on the monitor as she stiffens, throat tightening.“I… I didn’t see anything,” she stammers, desperate.“I didn’t say anything about seeing anything.” I let my words linger, soft but sharp, watching the way her breath stutters.Her next words spill out without restraint. “I’ll do anything. Just… Do
AriaThe office telephone rang, sharp slicing through the quiet hum of computers and clipped conversation.Without missing a beat, I picked it up and brought it to my ear“Hello?”A voice, clipped and professional, came through. “Miss Vale, Mr. Cross would like to see you in his office.”My throat went dry. “Now?”“Yes. Immediately.”The call ended without another word.I sat frozen for a second, heart thudding. Then I pushed to my feet, smoothing my skirt with clammy hands. The heels I’d worn with quiet confidence that morning now sounded too loud, each step echoing through the marble hallway like a countdown.When I reached the end of the corridor, the sight of his name etched into the glass door made my stomach twist.Xander Cross, CEO.I swallowed hard. Knocked.“Come in,” his voice called out—calm, composed. Controlled.I stepped into a room so sleek and cold it
ARIAI should’ve felt excited.I have a job now. A real one. Not freelance gigs that barely covered groceries or cam sessions where I faked moans for strangers in the dark. This was different. A steady paycheck. A chance to get my life back on track.But as the bus rattled toward Grayson’s apartment, all I felt was dread.My hands were curled in my lap, nails digging into my palms. My mind replayed his mother’s voice like a tape on the loop.> “Still jobless, Aria? I told Grayson he needs a woman who brings something to the table. You’re not in college anymore. What exactly do you contribute?”She didn’t even bother to whisper it. Just tossed it out over dinner, like she was pointing out a stain on the carpet.I’d tried to smile then. Tried to stay calm.> “With all due respect, Mrs. Reeves,” I’d said, lips t
XANDERI leaned back in my chair, gaze flicking to the time on my Rolex.She’d be here any minute.Across from me, my secretary stood waiting, tablet in hand. Efficient. Steady.“When the new marketing hire arrives,” I said, voice low and smooth, “send her directly in. No delays.”“Yes, Mr. Cross,” she replied, and turned to go.As the door closed behind her with a quiet click, the silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was charged.Aria Vale.Not Luna. Not the screen siren who came apart at the sound of my messages.But the real woman.I’d studied her resume a dozen times. Watched her performances far more than I should admit. What started as curiosity had twisted into obsession—tight, cold, hungry.I told myself I’d be composed. Professional. Just another CEO greeting a new employee.But I was a goddamn liar.My cock was already hard beneath the tailored wool of my suit pants, straining against control I’d been clinging to since the moment I saw her name on the HR docket.I shifted
ARIAThe soft hum of the city outside barely reached my apartment. For the first time in weeks, the noise didn’t press down on me—it felt distant, like something I’d finally outrun.I sat curled on the couch, still gripping my phone, staring at the message that had landed in my inbox just ten minutes ago.> Congratulations, Aria. Your application has been accepted.Start date: Monday. Welcome aboard.Four lines. That’s all. But they hit like a wave I hadn’t been braced for.I laughed—half breath, half sob—and blinked hard. It was real. After months of freelancing jobs that paid pennies, after pushing down my pride to keep up rent and groceries and Lexi’s meds… this was real.“Lexi!” I called out, voice catching in my throat.She peeked out from the kitchen, still in her hoodie and fuzzy socks. “What’s wrong?”I turned the screen toward her.She squinted at it, then gasped. “No. Way.”I nodded, barely able to speak.Her grin spread like wildfire. “You got it?! You actually got the job?
The elevator chimed softly, its doors sliding open like a quiet invitation into my world.Stepping onto the penthouse floor, the city stretched beneath me—a glittering sea of lights and shadows, sharp glass towers slicing the horizon. From up here, I controlled everything: deals, people, and fortunes. It was the kind of view that reminded me I was untouchable.Except today, even that wasn’t enough.My office smelled of leather and polished wood, the faintest trace of espresso still hanging in the air. My team was already humming along—the soft click of keyboards, quiet voices in low conversations, phones ringing here and there.“Morning, Mr. Cross,” my assistant said without looking up, eyes glued to her tablet. “Quarterly projections are finalized. Investors from Zürich want a call at three.”I nodded, barely registering her words. “Schedule it. Also, have legal review of those amended contracts by the end of the day.”She made a note and moved on, a well-oiled cog in the machine of