The next morning, Aria Lane dressed for war.
Her weapon of choice? A sleek black pencil skirt, crisp white blouse, and a tight bun that screamed I am composed and unbothered. Her nerves, however, didn't get the memo. They danced chaotically beneath her skin like electricity trapped in a jar.
She had barely survived her first day at Wayne Corp without collapsing. But today, she would operate under one rule:
Avoid Darian Wayne at all costs.
She stepped out of the subway and onto the marble steps of Wayne Corp, coffee cup in hand securely in hand this time and mentally recited calming affirmations.
You are capable. You are smart. You are not going to humiliate yourself again.
A familiar voice greeted her in the lobby. "Miss Lane?"
Aria turned, hoping it wasn't him. Instead, a woman in a fitted navy sheath dress waved her clipboard. "Good morning. I'm Candace from HR. You're being reassigned."
Aria blinked. "Reassigned?"
"Yes," Candace said with a forced smile. "Mr. Wayne reviewed the intern placements personally last night. He's made some… changes."
Changes. That couldn't be good.
"I thought I was supposed to be in Market Analytics," Aria said.
"You were. But you've been moved to Executive Operations."
Aria frowned. "Executive Operations? That's"
"Upstairs. Directly under Mr. Wayne's supervision," Candace said quickly, already walking. "Come with me. He asked for you personally."
Of course he did, Aria thought, her stomach folding in on itself.
The elevator ride to the top floor felt like climbing into a spaceship. Polished floors, glass walls, private lounges. Everything screamed silence, power, money. Aria didn't belong here, and her knees knew it.
Candace led her through a frosted-glass corridor. "This is your workspace."
Aria's name was engraved on a tiny gold plaque right outside the CEO's office.
"I… this has to be a mistake," she whispered.
Candace's smile was tight. "It's not. He was very clear. Welcome to the top floor."
Before Aria could question her further, the woman turned on her heel and disappeared back into the elevator.
Aria stared at the heavy double doors before her. Wayne's office. The lion's den.
And just like that, the doors opened.
Darian Wayne stood in the doorway in a charcoal three-piece suit, casually sipping espresso. "Miss Lane. Right on time."
Aria forced a smile. "Morning, Mr. Wayne."
He stepped aside to let her pass, nodding toward a small desk outside his office. "You'll be working here. Closely. You'll manage scheduling, review proposals, and coordinate meetings. You'll also be the first to screen anything that reaches me."
She sat slowly. "Why me?"
He tilted his head, amused. "Why not you?"
She didn't reply. Because the real answer was: Because I poured coffee on your $6,000 suit and called you a skyscraper with an attitude.
He moved closer, his tone shifting. "I don't believe in coincidences, Miss Lane. We met because we were meant to."
Her breath caught. "Is that a threat or a prophecy?"
He didn't answer. He just smiled that faint, unreadable smile before retreating into his office.
The hours passed in tense, silent bursts. Aria reviewed meeting notes, scheduled calls, and responded to executive emails all while being hyper-aware of every sound coming from his office.
Every time his voice floated through the glass low, commanding her pulse quickened.
At lunch, she tried to sneak away quietly, but his voice stopped her before she reached the elevator.
"Miss Lane."
She turned. "Yes?"
"I don't like wasting potential. Don't waste yours."
She opened her mouth to respond, but he had already disappeared back inside.
By Thursday, the entire top floor knew her name.
Not because she was brilliant. Because Darian Wayne kept calling for her.
"Miss Lane, cancel my 3 o'clock."
"Miss Lane, reschedule the Singapore call."
"Miss Lane, bring me the new acquisition files."
And every time she walked in, he was calm, unbothered, and deeply annoying.
But there was something beneath the surface. A flicker of something human behind his perfect posture. She noticed the framed photo on his desk slightly turned away of a woman with warm eyes and soft curls.
His late wife, surely.
She didn't ask. She didn't dare.
Friday afternoon arrived like a thunderstorm hot, heavy, and unpredictable.
Aria was sorting through vendor proposals when Darian's door opened without warning.
"We have a dinner meeting tonight."
She looked up. "We?"
"You're my assistant now," he said plainly. "You need to be briefed before I meet with the ambassador. Seven o'clock. Black tie."
Her mouth opened. Closed. "Sir, I wasn't informed"
"You are now." And then, softer, "I'll send a car."
He disappeared again, leaving Aria alone with her spinning thoughts.
That night
The car was sleek, black, and far too expensive for comfort. Aria sat stiffly in the back seat, tugging at the hem of her black dress, her heels pinching with every anxious bounce of her knee.
This isn't normal, she thought. Interns don't go to dinner meetings with billionaire CEOs.
Yet here she was, walking into the velvet-lit lobby of the Eden Hotel, greeted by chandeliers, soft jazz, and a maître d' who recognized Darian Wayne on sight.
He stood waiting near a private table, looking every bit the devil in a tux.
Aria's breath caught. He looked… devastating.
She approached, forcing confidence into each step. "You clean up well."
He smirked. "You clean up better."
Dinner was tense. Sophisticated dishes she couldn't pronounce, paired with wine older than her career. The ambassador never showed apparently delayed in Paris. But Darian didn't seem surprised.
"I don't like wasted nights," he said, swirling his wine. "And you owe me a coffee."
She raised an eyebrow. "So this is revenge?"
"No," he said, eyes locking onto hers. "This is curiosity."
The silence between them thickened. Aria found herself watching the way his fingers cradled the wine glass. Controlled. Restrained. Dangerous.
"So," she asked, "is this how you welcome all new interns?"
"No," he said simply. "Just the ones who crash into me and then dare to talk back."
She smiled. "Well, lucky me."
Darian leaned forward, his gaze unreadable. "You have no idea."
As they left the restaurant, he held the door open for her. She hesitated for a breath then stepped through. Outside, the air was cool, the moon sharp overhead.
For the first time all week, Aria felt something that wasn't panic or pressure.
She felt the shift.
A thread pulling taut between them.
He opened the car door but didn't immediately step back.
"Miss Lane," he said, voice quieter now. "Don't let this job tame you."
She looked up. "Why not?"
"Because I've seen what this world does to good people. And I'm not interested in watching it happen to you."
Before she could speak, he shut the door.
The ride back was silent, except for the hum of tires over asphalt and the occasional flicker of city lights. Aria stared out the window, heart thrumming like a drum against her ribs. The way he'd looked at her like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve lingered in her mind long after the city faded behind them.
What was that moment? A warning? A flirtation? A game?
She didn't know. And that was the most dangerous part.
When the car finally stopped outside her apartment, she turned to thank the driver, only to find a small box resting on the seat beside her.
She picked it up cautiously. Inside was a delicate glass keychain shaped like a coffee cup. A note was tucked beneath it.
"For the one you didn't get to enjoy. — D.W."
Her breath caught.
This man, this untouchable CEO, who had made her life a living hell for the past five days… was teasing her now. Softly. Strategically. Like he was luring her deeper into a game only he knew the rules to.
But Aria Lane had never been afraid of games.
As she stepped out into the night, clutching the box in her hand, she wasn't sure what scared her more:
That he was beginning to see her…
Or that she was starting to want him to.