ADRIAN'S POV
The meeting room was suffocating.
Ten men in perfectly tailored suits sat around the long glass table, their attention fixed on me like predators waiting for permission to strike—or flee. The screen behind them glowed with profit margins, market expansions, and acquisition projections that could shift the balance of power across three continents.
Numbers didn't impress me.
Results did.
"We rework the contract," I said calmly, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "These returns are mediocre."
A ripple of unease moved through the room.
One of the directors cleared his throat. "But, Mr. Goodwill, if we push any further, we risk losing the partnership entirely."
I lifted my hand.
The room fell dead silent.
"I don't negotiate from a position of fear," I continued coolly. "If they walk away, they weren't worth the deal in the first place."
No one argued.
They never did—not when I used that tone.
My phone vibrated once beside my tablet.
I didn't need to look.
Only one person would interrupt a board meeting.
Oscar.
But still, my eyes flicked down.
She's here.
My fingers tightened briefly against the edge of the table.
So she came.
For reasons I didn't bother to examine too closely, something sharp twisted in my chest—anticipation, irritation, curiosity… maybe all three.
"Take five," I said, pushing my chair back and standing. "We'll continue shortly."
As I walked out of the room, the weight of the empire followed me—but my thoughts had already shifted.
To her.
To the girl who shouldn't exist in my world.
And yet kept crashing into it anyway.
---
KISS'S POV
The Goodwill International lobby felt like a warning.
Everything about the place screamed power—polished marble floors, towering glass walls, people moving with quiet confidence, like they knew exactly where they belonged.
Unlike me.
I adjusted my blazer for the third time, forcing my shoulders back as I approached the reception desk.
You can do this.
I tried cheering myself up.
"Name?" the receptionist asked politely, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
"Kissabel Hilson," I replied. "I'm here for an interview."
She nodded, professional, efficient, and made a quick call. Moments later, a man in his early thirties approached me.
Sharp eyes. Controlled posture. Calm authority.
"Miss Hilson," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Oscar, the CEO's personal assistant."
CEO.
The word made my stomach tighten, though I couldn't explain why.
I shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."
His gaze lingered on me for a second longer than necessary—not judgmental, but assessing. Like he was already filing me away in his head.
"You'll be meeting with me first," he said as we started walking. "Then the CEO."
My steps faltered—just barely.
"The CEO?" I repeated. "I thought this was a departmental interview."
Oscar's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Mr. Goodwill prefers to meet final candidates himself."
Of course he does.
Figures.
We walked down a quiet corridor, my heels echoing softly. I focused on breathing, on steadying the knot forming in my chest.
This was just a job.
A means to an end.
Nothing more.
Then the door ahead opened.
And someone stepped out.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Familiar in a way that made my blood turn to ice.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
No.
No—this wasn't happening.
Adrian Goodwill.
He stopped the moment he saw me.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the space between us—the air thick, charged, unbearable.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
Oscar halted mid-step, clearly confused. "You… know each other?"
I ignored him, my eyes locked on Adrian.
"Are you serious right now?" I demanded, disbelief turning sharp and angry. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"
Adrian's face revealed nothing—but his eyes darkened, the way storm clouds do before rain.
"Watch your tone," he said coolly.
That did it.
A bitter laugh tore out of me. "My tone? Are you stalking me now? First the mansion, now this? Do you just follow women around until they break?"
Oscar's eyebrows shot up.
"Miss Hilson—" he started.
Adrian lifted a hand.
"Leave us," he ordered quietly.
Oscar hesitated, clearly torn between professionalism and curiosity, then nodded. "I'll… wait by the office."
The moment he disappeared down the corridor, I crossed my arms, a shield I desperately needed.
"So?" I snapped. "What is this? Another game?"
Adrian took a slow step toward me.
I held my ground, even as my pulse screamed at me to move.
"Relax," he said calmly. "You're not that special."
The words hit harder than I expected.
Good.
I straightened, lifting my chin. "Then why are you here?"
A dangerous smile curved his lips—the same one that had haunted my thoughts more than once.
"This," he said, leaning in just enough that I could feel the heat of him, his voice dropping, "is my company."
My blood ran cold.
The hallway seemed to tilt.
I stared at him, my mind scrambling, replaying everything—Goodwill. The email. The salary. The timing.
No.
No way.
"You're…" My voice caught. "…the CEO?"
His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and unyielding.
"And you," he added softly, deliberately, "applied to work for me."
The realization crashed over me like a wave.
Things started to fall into places especially his name.
I had walked straight into the lion's den.
And Adrian Goodwill wasn't just watching anymore.
He was in control.