It was supposed to be just another Monday. Rain poured outside like the heavens were mourning something, and Claire Bennett was late for her first day at her new job.
Running into the towering glass building of Lazaro Enterprises, she clutched her coat to her chest, soaked from the waist down. Her heels clicked loudly on the marble floors as she rushed past the empty receptionist desk, heart pounding.
"Why are all these fancy places so damn quiet?" she muttered, brushing damp strands from her face.
She had been told to report to the top floor and meet with her boss—Mr. Aidan Lazaro, the youngest CEO in the city, and arguably the most terrifying. Rumors swirled about his temper, his control issues, and his unsettling good looks. He was cold, demanding, and—according to one assistant she met at orientation—completely unapproachable.
Claire wasn't here to drool over her boss. She needed this job to support her younger sister back home and pay off her mother's hospital bills.
She stepped into the elevator, dripping wet, praying the day wouldn't get worse.
It did.
The top floor was eerily silent. The secretary's desk was empty—no one in sight.
Claire hesitated, looking at the digital display on the glass door: "Lazaro — CEO Office". She knocked once. No answer.
Maybe he wasn't in yet.
Claire pushed open the door gently. It creaked. Inside was a huge office space—sleek, dark furniture, marble desk, and floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city skyline.
She stepped in slowly. "Mr. Lazaro?" she called out.
Still nothing.
The sound of water running caught her attention.
Was that… a shower?
She blinked at the half-open door on the left. A faint fog was seeping through the opening.
God, he must be in there.
But her eyes caught something on the desk: a stack of folders labeled "Confidential Intern Agreements." Her name was on one of them.
Claire bit her lip.
"I'll just drop it on his desk and leave," she whispered to herself.
She crossed the room quickly—but just as she leaned forward, her elbow hit the edge of the desk, sending the folders tumbling to the floor.
"Shit!"
She dropped to her knees, scrambling to gather the scattered papers. She didn't hear the shower stop. She didn't hear the footsteps. But she felt the presence.
When she looked up…
He was there.
Dripping. Wet. Naked.
Water slid down every inch of his hard, sculpted torso. He was tall, well over six feet, and his dark hair clung to his forehead. His sharp jaw clenched when his steel-grey eyes met hers.
Claire's throat went dry.
"Who the hell are you?" His voice was low. Dangerous.
"I—I…" She froze, her eyes shamelessly raking over his abs, the V-shaped lines dipping into a towel barely hanging around his waist. Her cheeks flamed as she looked away.
"I said, who are you?" he repeated, stepping closer.
"I'm Claire Bennett! Your new assistant—I thought you weren't in—I mean, I heard the water and the door was open—"
His eyebrow rose. "So you walked in… while I was in the shower?"
"I swear I didn't mean to!" she blurted, standing quickly, clutching the folders to her chest like armor. "I just came to drop off the documents."
Aidan Lazaro's eyes narrowed as they lingered on her wet clothes—her blouse clung to her skin, revealing more than she realized.
He walked past her slowly, grabbing a black button-down shirt from the coat rack, deliberately not breaking eye contact.
Claire turned her back as he dressed, cheeks burning.
"You have quite the entrance, Miss Bennett," he said coolly. "Most assistants wait until they're called."
"I—I won't make the mistake again," she said quickly. "I'm really sorry."
She heard the soft click of buttons being fastened and turned around when silence followed.
Now fully dressed in black slacks and that crisp shirt, Aidan exuded power and precision. He walked behind his desk, sat down, and tapped the armrest of his leather chair.
"Come here."
Claire swallowed. Her feet moved on their own.
He stared at her, eyes sharp. "Are you easily distracted, Miss Bennett?"
"No, sir."
"Then explain why you were gawking at your boss like you are about to eat him alive."
Claire opened her mouth, stunned. "I—I wasn't gawking—"
"You were."
His voice was like velvet. Dangerous, addictive, dark.
"I don't mix business with pleasure," he continued. "And I certainly don't tolerate distractions in my office."
Claire blinked. "Understood."
"But," he added, eyes dragging down her frame, "if you ever walk into my office without knocking again… you won't be walking out with your job."
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
A wicked smirk touched his lips.
"Good. Now…" he leaned forward, his cologne drifting across the desk like a sin she wanted to taste, "you're late. And wet. And you just saw your boss half-naked."
Her heart slammed into her ribs.
"I want a fresh start tomorrow," he said. "Dry. On time. Professional."
"Yes, Mr. Lazaro."
"And Claire?"
She paused at the door.
"Next time you decide to gawk," he said, voice low, "do it longer. I might just return the favor."
The door clicked shut behind her, and she leaned against the wall outside, gasping for breath.
Her new boss was pure danger.
And her body didn't care.