She came to slay a monster. She wasn't prepared for him to smell like temptation.
The elevator doors exhaled shut behind Selena Cruz, trapping her in a glass box flying like a bullet to the top of Wolfe Tower. Fifty levels of steel and secrets. Her head was held high, her face a mask, but her heart beat like a war drum in her chest.
She had a single rule when it came to assignment: never get emotional. Never make it personal.
But this was at a personal level. Her brother, Javier, went missing six months ago after inking a clandestine consulting deal with Wolfe Enterprises. No calls. No tips. Just a text message the evening he went missing: "I was wrong. Be careful. It's him."
Him.
Damien Wolfe.
Billionaire. Recluse. Known for swallowing companies and spitting out bones. And now, her target.
The elevator buzzed, a softness that was a far cry from the fury boiling in her chest, and glided open into a penthouse suite that was reminiscent of a predator's lair. Glass walls, black marble, and the slow, coiled stillness of power. A woman with blood-red lips and cold features waiting patiently.
You're early," she said, voice cool as crystal.
"Habit," Selena answered, her smile as keen as his own. "Selena Cruz. PR consultant. Blackbridge Consulting sent me."
Lies, naturally. But costly ones.
The woman nodded and moved aside. "Mr. Wolfe will see you now."
Selena's heels clicked against the polished floor like shots. Then she saw him.
Damien Wolfe.
He stood before the window, shoulders wide and immobile, like a tempest waiting to release. The city stretched out behind him, shining in the sun of the afternoon. His charcoal grey suit was tailored to a body that didn't have any business being in a boardroom. And when he turned—
God help her.
Dark eyes met hers, impenetrable yet electric. His face was carved with impeccable precision—sharp cheekbones, a firm jaw, and lips that were made for something far more nefarious than meetings.
Yet not only his appearance.
It was him. The presence. The hum in the air. As if the room itself was holding its breath until he gave it permission.
You're the new consultant," he said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," she stammered, moving forward. "Selena Cruz. Thanks for—"
"You're lying."
The words struck like a slap. Her heart skipped a beat.
"I—Excuse me?"
He moved then, slow and deliberate. Like a man who had no need to hurry because the world accommodated him.
"You smile like you're up to something," he whispered. "You scent like adrenaline. And you've been looking at me like I'm the devil since the moment you came in."
He walked around her, near enough that she could sense the heat radiating from his body.
"So tell me, Miss Cruz. Do you want to fix my reputation." He dropped his voice an octave. ".or bury it?"
Selena's eyes met his, her heart racing. "Perhaps both." There was a hush, as thick as smoke, between them. And then—hardly—he smiled. And that was when she realized: She was in deep. And he was standing there watching her drown.