chapter 3: His Dark Gaze

I stared at my reflection in the elevator’s mirrored walls, adjusting my blazer. The designer label clearance find from last season suddenly felt inadequate in a building where even the doorman wore custom-tailored suits. One week into my new job, and I still couldn’t believe my misfortune.

Alex Rodriguez—the man who’d seen me drunk and probably made a fool of myself—was the CEO.

The elevator dinged open to the executive floor, where marble floors probably cost more than my yearly salary. Walking past abstract paintings that could fund my college debt, I tried to focus on my work rather than the excessive display of wealth surrounding me. The open office layout might have been meant to suggest equality, but everyone knew where real power sat—behind those floor-to-ceiling glass doors where Alex Rodriguez ruled his empire.

“Ms. Sonia Martinez, could you step into my office?” His deep voice carried across the open workspace, making several heads turn. I caught Sarah from accounting shooting me a sympathetic look. Mr. Rodriguez rarely called employees into his office unless something was seriously wrong.

I gripped my tablet tighter, forcing myself to breathe normally. “Of course, Mr. Rodriguez.”

The moment I entered his office, the air felt different—heavier somehow. He closed the door behind me, and I caught a whiff of his cologne. Why did he have to smell so good? This wasn’t some bargain store fragrance; it probably cost more than my monthly rent.

“Please, sit.” He gestured to the chair across from his intimidating glass desk but remained standing. A Wall Street Journal lay open beside his laptop, his face gracing the cover with the headline “Rodriguez Industries’ Youngest CEO Takes Silicon Valley by Storm.”

“How are you finding your first week?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

“It’s…going well,” I managed, trying not to notice how his charcoal suit perfectly fitted his broad shoulders.

He moved closer, leaning against his desk right next to where I sat. Too close.

“Just well? I heard you’ve already impressed the creative team with your proposals.”

“I’m just doing my job, Mr. Rodriguez.” My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my skirt, painfully aware of the difference between his world and mine.

“Alex,” he corrected softly.

“When we’re alone, I’d like you to call me Alex.” My heart hammered against my ribs. Through the glass walls, I could see our reflections—him, the picture of success in his perfectly tailored suit, and me, the ordinary girl trying to make it in a world where even the coffee machines looked expensive.

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Why not?” His voice dropped lower, sending involuntary shivers down my spine. “Are you still angry about the interview day?”

“I’m not angry about anything,” I lied, standing up to put some distance between us. The city sprawled below us through the panoramic windows, a reminder of how far I was from my comfortable, simple life before this job.

“I just prefer to keep things professional.” He followed me, his steps deliberate.

“Professional? Like getting drunk and letting me drive you home in my Aston Martin?”

Heat flooded my cheeks at the memory of that night, of sinking into buttery leather seats, of his careful hands helping me inside.

“That was a mistake.”

“Was it?” He was suddenly right behind me, his presence overwhelming. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. About you.”

I spun around, ready to tell him off, but the intensity in his dark eyes made me forget what I was going to say. His hand reached up, fingers barely brushing my cheek, and I wondered if he could feel how my skin burned at his touch.

“Sonia,” he called, and the way he said my name made my knees weak. “There’s something between us. You feel it too.”

“No,” I stepped back, bumping into the wall. “There’s nothing between us except a professional relationship.”

His palm pressed against the wall beside my head, effectively trapping me.

“Look me in the eyes and say that again.”

My heart was racing so fast I could barely breathe. His face was inches from mine, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he might kiss me. Even more terrifying was the realization that part of me wanted him to, despite every rational voice screaming about power imbalances and workplace harassment.

“Mr. Rodriguez,” I said firmly, ducking under his arm. “This is harassment.”

He immediately stepped back, running a hand through his dark hair. “Harassment? Sonia, I would never—”

“Really?” I cut him off, anger and attraction warring inside me. “Concerning your employee in your office? What would HR say about that? Or should I ask the board of directors?”

Something flashed in his eyes—hurt? Frustration?

“You’re right. I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” I reached for the door handle, desperate to escape. “Is there anything else work-related you need from me?”

“Actually, yes.” His voice had returned to its professional tone, but there was an edge to it. “The Clayton account needs a complete overhaul. I want you to lead the project.”

I froze. The Clayton account was our biggest client.

“Me? But I’ve only been here a week.”

“I’ve seen your work. You’re the best person for the job.” He returned to his desk, all business now.

“You’ll need to stay late tonight. We’ll go over the details together.”

“Tonight?” My stomach dropped.

“Just us?”

A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Afraid you can’t trust yourself alone with me?”

“I’m afraid I can’t trust you,” I shot back, then immediately regretted my boldness. People had perhaps been fired for less.

But instead of anger, I saw something like admiration flash across his face as he leaned forward, those dark eyes pinning me in place.

“Good instinct. You probably shouldn’t.”

I jerked the door open, my pulse pounding. As I walked back to my desk on shaky legs, one thought kept circling in my mind: How was I supposed to work late with a man who made me feel like I was playing with fire?

Behind me, I could feel his eyes following my every move, and I knew this was only the beginning.