One Night With My Boss

LINA POV

I step into the Holt building, and suddenly my carefully rehearsed confidence feels like a joke.

The lobby is all glass and marble, polished to a blinding shine. People in sharp suits pass by like they're gliding. I grip my tote bag tighter, trying to convince myself I belong here. New city, new job, new me. No mistakes.

I walk up to the receptionist. "Hi, I'm Lina Hayes. Here for my interview."

She smiles, bright and professional. "Of course. Executive office. You'll meet Mr. Holt and the HR manager."

Her smile is polite, oblivious. I nod, follow her directions, and take the elevator to the top floor, telling myself this is just a job interview.

Then I see him.

Ethan.

I could never forget his name

My stomach twists into something ugly, and my lungs forget how to work. He's leaning casually against the wall by the conference room, hands in his pockets, looking like he just walked out of a magazine. Except he's not in a magazine. He's the man I slept with that one unforgettable night in Chicago. That one night that I told myself I would never remember.

And now he's my interviewer.

I stop in my tracks. My heels click against the floor, and I swear the sound is deafening. He turns toward me, and in that instant, all my carefully built walls crumble. Flashbacks hit me like wind, that night in his hotel room, I bent over the hotel desk, his palm cracking my ass, cock slamming deep. "Take it, you filthy little whore," I still heard his voice, yanking my hair, I didn't mind what he called me, as long as he was fucking me. He kept pounding until my knees buckled, thighs trembled, pussy clenching around his brutal thrusts.

My legs nearly gave way right there, slick heat flooding my panties.

I blink and shake my head, forcing my brain back to the present. Keep it together, Lina. It's just a job.

"Miss Hayes," Ethan says smoothly, his voice even. Too even. Like nothing in the world could make him flinch. My name rolls off his tongue, and it's wrong and right all at once.

"Hi," I manage, forcing a smile. My mouth feels dry, my hands clammy.

I notice the HR manager at his side, a stern woman with a clipboard, and another person, someone I assume is part of the interview panel. Both are watching now. Neither seems to notice the tension between Ethan and me, but I feel it like a live wire buzzing through my chest.

"Please, have a seat," Ethan gestures to the chair across from him, sitting with perfect posture. His composure is infuriating. How can he look so calm when I'm the one about to melt in the middle of the room?

I sit, placing my bag on my lap. I stare down at the polished wood of the table, pretending not to notice the way his eyes flick to me once, twice, before he settles back like he's completely unaffected.

I know he's petrified too. I can feel it. He doesn't let it show, not an inch. Not in front of HR. Not in front of anyone. He's the CEO. He doesn't lose control.

But I see it.

"You're applying for the position of Secretary to Mr. Holt?" HR manager asks, breaking the silence.

"Yes," I answer. My voice is steadier than I feel. "I've had experience managing schedules, travel arrangements, and confidential projects. I'm organized, detail-oriented..."

I glance at Ethan. His expression hasn't changed, still cool, still collected, but the way his gaze lingers just a beat too long makes me want to melt into the chair.

"Good," HR manager says. "We value efficiency and discretion here. Mr. Holt, do you have any questions for Ms. Hayes?"

Ethan leans back slightly, fingers steepled. "Tell me about a time you had to handle something urgent with very little notice."

I start talking, words coming easier now that I've begun. I tell them about a last-minute project at my previous firm, how I had to coordinate multiple executives, reschedule flights, and ensure nothing fell through. I watch Ethan as I speak. His eyes are sharp, evaluating, but there's something else there, something I can't name without my stomach flipping.

Every so often, I feel my mind drift. That night in Chicago flashes behind my eyes. The way he looked at me... the heat... the chaos... My cheeks flush, and I clamp down on the memories, shoving them away. I cannot, I will not, let this ruin my first impression.

Ethan clears his throat. "Impressive." His voice is low, just loud enough for me to hear. That single word sends a shiver down my spine.

HR manager nods. "Excellent. And how do you handle high-pressure situations where the executive may be... difficult?"

I lift my chin, forcing professionalism to mask the heat rising in me. "I stay calm. I stay organized. I focus on solutions, not problems. I make sure my executive looks good, even if it costs me a little stress."

Ethan's lips twitch. Almost a smile, but not quite. That corner-of-his-mouth thing he does that reminds me too much of that night. I have to look away, pretend I'm analyzing the table. My pulse is pounding like a drum in my ears.

The HR manager makes notes. Ethan doesn't say anything, just watches me. And I can feel it, the tension, the electricity, the way it hums between us. It's unprofessional. Dangerous. And I love it.

"Thank you, Ms. Hayes," the HR manager says finally. "We'll be in touch."

Ethan leans forward just slightly, enough that I catch the faint scent of him, clean, sharp, intoxicating. My breath catches. I want to say something stupid. Something that'll ruin me, like: Do you remember Chicago?

But I don't. I can't. I smile, nod, and gather my bag. "Thank you for your time."

We walk toward the door, and the memory hits me again. The touch of his hand, the look in his eyes, the way he made me feel... I shove it down. Pretend It doesn't exist.

He holds the door for me. I pause, staring up at him, heart in my throat. His eyes are calm, unreadable, untouchable. But I know he's fighting the same thing I am. I see it in the flicker behind his gaze, the slightest catch in his breath I could swear is there.

I step through the doorway, walking out like I own my composure, but my legs feel like jelly.

"Good luck," Ethan says, voice casual again, calm as a boardroom meeting, completely normal. But my mind knows the truth, we are anything but normal.

I step into the hallway, trying to breathe. Trying to convince myself I didn't just spend thirty minutes sitting across from the man who haunted my fantasies, my regrets, my desires. Trying to remember that this is an interview, not a repeat of the night I'll never forget.

But deep down, I know this job, this city, and this man... are about to change my life forever.