I make a conscious effort not to fidget for the next hour as Aydem and the two gentlemen sitting next to him interrogate everyone that sits around the table. I love how one of the women gets up and talks confidently; I can not help but admire the apricot blouse she is wearing that matches the shade of her lipstick and blush. As she is bombarded with questions, she does not back down when she is confronted with the prospect of proving her thoughts viable. She handles herself well as she is put under duress, duress that is solely being encouraged by Aydem, who effortlessly dominates the room. "Excellent work, Tia," Aydem says and he gives her a small compliment as he begins to wrap things up. "I'm looking forward to reviewing the designs in person. What would entice you, Ms Cross, to purchase the shoe?" I blink, startled to see that everyone in the room is now looking at me. "Uh, excuse me?" I gulp as my cheeks flush. His gaze is piercing in its

I enter the Burak Legacys Building with two minutes to spare. I stroll through the foyer to the bank of elevators in a fog of bad thoughts. Some days I feel like I'm punching under my body weight. Frequently, who or what remains debatable. I wait for the elevator car to descend to my level and for the doors to slide open. But, today I have a name and a face. Trent Esposito. This man drives me insane with agony. He causes my blood to boil as if it were lava coursing through my veins, and my heart to turn black, resembling a shrivelled up prune. I get inside the elevator car and punch the level eight button, watching as the doors slide shut. This morning's beautiful nightmare is still too raw. My tongue is stained with a metallic flavour. My ears still ring with the agonising sound of crushing bones, and the sensation of sinking into a black hole still caresses my senses. As I open my purse and take out a chocolate bar, I grumble

I walk out of Castello's office feeling utterly stupid. To be more specific, a failure. Castello's folder, which he gave me a few weeks ago, is still in my bottom drawer, hidden beneath my clothes. I thought it was a brilliant idea to approach this mission blindly. I was hesitant to study his file in the hopes of judging him based on the facts provided to me only. For some odd reason, I wanted to judge him objectively, based on my own experience.  I am curious about what makes him tick, and the last thing I want is for him to question how I have gathered so much information about him.I mean, yeah. His backstory can be found on any search engine if one is truly committed to doing a deep dive and getting to know him better than he believes he does. However, as my mother always used to say. 'You can't believe everything you read.'   I close the

"Hey, Akira." I stand at her desk after she buzzes me in. Today, she is wearing a maroon dress that ends just above her knees and hugs her figure, highlighting her womanly curves. "Good morning, C.C." Her cheeks are slightly flushed with a faint smile. "You're looking very professional today?" She arches a brow as her gaze sweeps over me. I tuck my loose curls behind my ears and stare down at myself. "A pair of black dress slacks and a white blouse is hardly professional." I chuckle. "It is more a case of playing it safe." I groan, wishing I possessed the confidence to dress up like the majority of the girls around here. "Is he in?" I enquire sceptically, hoping that I am not too late. "Nope, he is upstairs this morning, I believe." "Thank the Gods," I reply. "I'll catch up with you later." "I'll be here." She hums as the sound of her tapping away on her keyboard follows me down the corridor. I take a seat behind my des

His hand moves from my jawline to the base of my throat as he kisses my feverish skin along my neck.I moan, my eyes pressing tight as a shiver runs through my body. I know I should pull back and put an end to this little exploration of curiosity between us. But, his touch ignites my body, and I savour the sensations running through me for a little bit longer."What are you doing to me, Miss Cross?" Another shiver slides through me at the way he says my name with an authoritative bite heavily masked by his accent. On the inside of his jacket, I slide my hands up his torso and feel the hard planes of his powerful chest. "Mr Burak.." I moan. "Evet (yes), Miss Cross?" He answers hoarsely, his lips moving up my neck and across my jawline. "One touch is all I need, askim (my love)." My eyes spring open and I push him off me.Those words...I remember those exact words being used against me over a year ago.