Under her command
Ethan Cole had never been late for anything in his life. Yet here he was, jogging down the sleek white hallway of Hart Global, tie crooked, breath uneven, rehearsing his answers for the secretary interview he had been preparing for months. The moment he saw the restroom sign, he acted on instinct, pushing the door open without a second thought.
The moment he stepped inside, his stomach dropped.
She was there.
Olivia Hart. CEO. Legendary, untouchable, ice-cold, untamed. Her black heels clicked softly against the marble floor, her skirt clinging to curves that were impossible not to notice. Her blouse, slightly damp at the collar from the sink, revealed just a hint of delicate skin—enough to steal his breath but not so much to embarrass her. She had her back to him at first, adjusting her hair in the mirror, unaware of his intrusion.
And then she turned.
The air around him seemed to compress. She didn’t scream. She didn’t shout. She simply arched an eyebrow, her piercing dark eyes locking onto his.
“You’re in the wrong restroom,” she said, her voice calm, cold, commanding.
“I—I’m sorry,” Ethan stammered, trying to step back. “I didn’t—”
“Close the door,” she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument.
He hesitated. “I—okay.”
The click of the lock echoed. Silence fell. The tension was almost tangible, thick like velvet wrapping around them. She crossed the room slowly, her gaze fixed on him as if assessing every detail, every line of his body, every pulse that betrayed his nervousness.
“You’re here for the secretary position,” she said, voice smooth, deliberate.
“Yes,” he managed to whisper, his heart hammering.
Her gaze lingered, dangerous and deliberate. “You walk into a women’s restroom before an interview. How do you fix mistakes, Mr…?”
“Ethan.”
“Mr. Cole,” she said slowly, her lips curving into the faintest smirk. “Do you take responsibility for your mistakes?”
He didn’t answer verbally. He stepped closer. His hands rose to her waist, firm, controlled, dominant—but not forceful. He gave her a chance to stop him. She didn’t.
The kiss that followed was not gentle. Not experimental. It was electric. Hungry. Precise. Her hands tangled in his hair. His hands pressed against her lower back, pulling her flush against him. Her back met the cold marble counter, heels slipping slightly as he lifted her effortlessly.
“I don’t mix business with pleasure,” she whispered, breathless.
“You already did,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers again.
And then it was over. She stepped back, perfectly composed, slipping her blouse back into place as if nothing had happened. Her eyes, sharp as knives, fixed him with that trademark CEO glare.
“You’re not getting the job,” she said, voice ice-cold.
“No?”
“Leave,” she instructed, turning on her heel and walking past him.
Ethan stood there, adjusting his tie, heart racing—not with regret—but with longing.
Unbeknownst to him, the woman he had just shared something reckless, intimate, and unforgettable with was Olivia Hart. CEO. Power. Ice. And soon… his fate.