Chapter 1 - The Confession in the Dark
The leather of Ethan Hawkins’s private office sofa was entirely too soft for a woman who had just committed career suicide, grand larceny of dignity, and public humiliation all in the span of sixty seconds. I lay there with my eyes squeezed shut, praying to whatever higher power governed overworked executive assistants that when I opened them, I would wake up in my own bed, fully clothed, having dreamed the entire nightmare.
Unfortunately, the faint, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and expensive bourbon lingering in the air was painfully, undeniably real.
I cracked one eye open. Ethan was still kneeling beside me, a glass of ice water balanced in one steady hand, his broad shoulders filling out the custom-tailored black suit that seemed to be permanently molded to his frame. His dark hair was slightly mussed—a rare sign of imperfection—and those piercing green eyes were looking down at me with an expression I couldn't quite decode. It wasn't the cold, dismissive glare he usually reserved for board members or rival syndicate bosses. It was something entirely more dangerous: curiosity.
“Drink some water, Alexa,” he instructed, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that vibrated straight down my spine.
I took the glass with shaking fingers, sitting up slowly and keeping my gaze glued to the rim. “I can resign,” I blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in a frantic rush. “Effective immediately. You don't even have to pay me for this week. I’ll pack my desk, I’ll hand over the password vault, I’ll move to a remote cabin in Montana where there are no portraits, no mafia bosses, and no mirrors—”
Ethan’s hand gently closed over my wrist, stopping the frantic flow of my excuses. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the ice-cold panic freezing my veins.
“Resign?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “And leave me at the mercy of scheduling conflicts and poorly formatted quarterly reports? Absolutely not, Miss Summers. You are far too valuable for me to let you run away to Montana.”
I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. “You... you’re not going to fire me?”
“For what?” Ethan asked, a slow, dangerous smile finally breaking through his stoic facade. “For admiring company art? Or for telling the truth about how ridiculously hot I am?”
I wished the earth would open up and swallow me whole right then and there. I could feel a fierce, humiliating blush crawling up my neck, scorching my cheeks and turning my ears bright red. “Please don't say that out loud. Ever again.”
“It’s a matter of public record now, Alexa,” he teased, though his green eyes softened slightly as he set the glass down on the mahogany coffee table. He didn't move away. In fact, he shifted closer, his knees resting inches from mine on the edge of the couch. “For twelve months, I’ve watched you walk into this office every morning like a soldier marching into battle. You manage my schedule, protect my assets, and keep half the criminal underworld from realizing when our logistics are running thin. And every single day, you look at me as if I’m the most infuriating man alive.”
“Because you are!” I snapped, the adrenaline finally overriding my terror. I pulled my wrist free from his grip and glared at him. “You called my proposal ‘adequate’! Do you know how many nights I spent analyzing those supply chains? Twelve hours of my life, Ethan! And you dismissed it with one word!”
Ethan didn't flinch. He just watched me with an intensity that made the air in the room feel heavy and charged.
“Your proposal wasn't adequate, Alexa,” he said softly.
My breath hitched. “Then why did you—”
“Because if I had approved it, you would have spent the next month working twenty-hour days in my immediate vicinity, and I would have spent every waking second trying very hard not to cross a professional line I’ve spent two years agonizing over.”
The office went dead silent. The hum of the air conditioning unit suddenly sounded like a roaring jet engine.
I stared at him, my mouth slightly open. “What?”
May you like
Ethan stood up smoothly, offering me a hand to help me off the couch. The playful amusement in his eyes had vanished, replaced by an electric, raw honesty that terrified me even more than his usual cold authority.
“Get your coat, Miss Summers,” he said, his voice dropping into that commanding register that made everyone in the city lower their voices. “We’re going to dinner. And this time, you’re going to tell me every single thing you think of me—face to face, without a piece of glass in the way.”
