His Contract Bride, The Real Heiress

Two hours of shredding paper. It was meditative, in a way. Serena imagined she was shredding the NDA she had signed, or perhaps Julian's favorite tie.

The office was a hive of panic. People were running back and forth, shouting into headsets. Apparently, a "Situation" was unfolding in Conference Room B.

Scarlett stormed out of her office, looking frantic. She spotted Serena.

You! Scarlett snapped. "Country girl. Get up."

Serena stood, brushing paper dust off her jeans. "Yes?"

The interns are all crying in the bathroom and I need hands. We need coffee for the VIP in Conference Room B. Go to the break room. Get the blackest coffee you can find. No sugar, no milk. If you mess this up, I will fire you myself, fiancée or not.

Who is it? Serena asked.

Landon, Scarlett whispered the name like a curse. "The pop star. He's threatening to pull his endorsement deal because his latte foam wasn't symmetrical. Just... go."

Serena went to the break room. She poured a cup of the sludge that passed for corporate coffee. It smelled burnt.

She walked to Conference Room B. The walls were glass, but the blinds were drawn tight. She could hear screaming from inside.

I said NO ALMOND MILK! Are you deaf? Do I pay you to be deaf?

Serena pushed the door open.

The room was chaotic. A team of executives was cowering against the wall. In the center of the room, pacing like a caged tiger, was Landon.

Landon, the global heartthrob. The boy with the platinum hair and the voice that made teenage girls faint. He was currently throwing a stress ball at his terrified agent.

I want competence! Landon shrieked, spinning around to face the door. "I want-"

He froze.

His eyes landed on Serena.

He stopped mid-shout. His mouth hung open. The stress ball dropped from his hand, rolling across the carpet and bumping against Serena's boot.

The room went silent. The executives held their breath, waiting for Landon to eviscerate the intern.

Landon's face went pale. He stared at her eyes-those distinct, mismatched hazel eyes he had seen through the smoke and blood in Syria two years ago. The eyes of the soldier who had dragged him from a burning SUV. He didn't know her name. He only knew her as "Zero."

You... Landon breathed, taking a step forward. "It's you."

Serena didn't blink. She raised a single finger to her lips in a universal gesture of silence. Shhh.

She tapped the side of the coffee cup with her ring finger. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. A rhythmic pattern they had used to signal 'safe' during the extraction.

Landon swallowed hard. He saw her warning. She was undercover. He saw the flannel, the boots, the terrified staff behind her.

He cleared his throat, his entire demeanor shifting instantly. The diva vanished. In his place was a puppy wagging its tail.

Is... is that coffee for me? Landon asked, his voice trembling with reverence.

Serena walked forward and placed the cup on the table. "Black. Burnt. Just how you like it."

Landon picked up the cup. He took a sip. It was objectively terrible.

It's perfect, Landon whispered. "Best coffee I've ever had."

Outside the glass walls, Scarlett and the PR team were watching, their jaws on the floor. They couldn't hear the words, but they saw the body language. The monster was tamed.

Landon pulled out a chair. "Please," he said, gesturing. "Sit. Join me."

Serena sat. She leaned in close. "I'm an intern here," she murmured. "From a commune in Montana. I milk goats. Play along, or I break your arm."

Landon grinned. It was the first genuine smile he'd worn in months. "Loud and clear, boss."

He turned to the room, his voice booming. "Wow! This intern! She has such... rural charm! I love it! Tell me more about... agriculture!"

Scarlett burst into the room, unable to contain her confusion. "Mr. Landon? Is everything okay? This is just our intern, she doesn't know anything about branding..."

Landon glared at Scarlett with sudden ferocity. "Don't interrupt us. She is explaining the... the intricacies of soil pH. It's fascinating. Leave us."

Scarlett backed out, terrified.

Just then, Julian walked past the glass wall. He was on his way to a board meeting, flanked by lawyers. He glanced into the conference room.

He stopped.

He saw Landon-Landon the playboy, Landon the notorious womanizer-leaning across the table, his face inches from Serena's. Landon was looking at her with an intensity that looked suspiciously like adoration. Serena was whispering something, a small smile playing on her lips.

A hot, irrational spike of acid hit Julian's stomach.

Jealousy? No. Impossible. It was... protectiveness. For the company's image. Yes.

He opened the door, the temperature in the room dropping as he entered.

Mr. Landon, Julian said, his voice like a whip crack. "I see you've met our... staff."

Landon looked up. His eyes narrowed. He sensed the hostility in Julian, and his instinct was to protect his savior.

She's the only competent person in this building, Sterling, Landon snapped. "In fact, I want her on my account. Exclusively."

Julian's jaw tightened. He looked at Serena. She looked back, innocent and wide-eyed.

She's an intern, Julian said coldly. "She shreds paper."

Not anymore, Landon said, crossing his arms. "She's my liaison. Or I walk."

Julian looked at Serena. He looked at Landon. The air crackled with testosterone.

Fine, Julian spat. "But she answers to me."