Chapter Two

Alison stirred awake to the soft buzz of her alarm, eyes still puffy from the tears she shed last night. Her head throbbed lightly—a dull ache from too much wine and too many thoughts. She groaned and rolled over, arm slapping blindly at her nightstand before she finally silenced the buzzing phone.

The events of the previous night came crashing down with a sharp pulse in her chest. The stranger's hands. His voice. His lips—God, his lips. The shame, the thrill, the ache he left behind. She'd run out before dawn, clothes clutched in her hand, breath caught in her throat, as if staying one minute longer would shatter her completely.

She sat up slowly, pressing her palms into the sheets. Her roommate, Michelle, walked in with two mugs of coffee and a lifted brow. "Rough night?"

Alison took the mug gratefully, eyes still unfocused. Michelle studied her for a beat, then narrowed her eyes. "You had sex. Don't even try to deny it."

Alison choked on the first sip. "What?!"

"You've got the guilt face. And you're glowing. Spill."

"It meant nothing," Alison muttered. "Just a stupid, drunken mistake."

Michelle sat beside her, sipping calmly. "The best ones usually are."

There was no time to argue. Alison glanced at the time and swore under her breath. Her interview—no, her first official day—was in less than an hour. She jumped up, flinging open her small closet. "What am I even supposed to wear to impress a corporate demon?"

Michelle tossed her a sleek black skirt and a silky white blouse. "Channel hot-and-smart. Less slut, more boss."

She dressed quickly, ignoring the butterflies that began to stir in her stomach. With her hair pinned back and heels clacking against the floor, she rushed out the door, barely hearing Michelle yell something about breakfast.

The cab ride was a blur. Her thoughts kept flicking back to last night's stranger—those intense eyes, the way his hands seemed to brand every inch of her. She shook her head. It didn't matter. He was no one. Just a ghost of a night she was determined to bury. But fate wasn't done playing tricks on her.

The bus hissed to a stop near the towering glass building. Lauren Enterprises. She stepped off, her heart rattling against her ribs. She joined a group of employees moving inside, praying she wouldn't stand out. She entered the elevator, fixing her blouse collar, and stared at the numbers as they ticked up.

When the doors slid open, she walked into the reception area, trying to look calm. The receptionist gave her a tight smile and pointed her to the orientation hall. She followed the directions and waited with other new hires until a sharp voice called her name.

"Alison Grant. You're with the CEO's floor. You'll be working under Mr. Lauren's executive team."

Alison's feet moved before her brain could protest. The elevator ride back up was a blur. When she arrived at the top floor, the silence was heavy. Polished floors, glass walls, cold air. She was shown to the CEO's assistant's desk to wait. Her fingers trembled slightly.

Then the door opened.

And he walked in.

Her world froze.

Ralph fucking Lauren.

His eyes locked with hers. For one scorching second, the air between them sizzled.

He blinked.

"You," he muttered under his breath.

Alison swallowed hard, frozen in place. He was in a sharp suit this time, not shirtless like last night. But the same chiseled jaw. The same mouth. The same man who had kissed her like sin.

She stood quickly, her voice shaking. "Mr. Lauren, I'm Alison Grant. Your new executive assistant."

His lips curved into something between disbelief and annoyance. "I see."

An awkward silence stretched. He stepped closer, but not too close. His eyes swept her face with unsettling coldness.

"So you're the one from last night. What, do you just sleep around for sport?"

The words slapped her. She bit her lip, held her chin high. "I didn't know who you were."

"I find that hard to believe."

Alison drew a breath, steel in her tone now. "I was drunk. You didn't seem to care last night."

Ralph's expression darkened, like he wasn't used to being talked back to. "Well, this is going to be interesting."

"I suggest we forget it ever happened," she said, refusing to flinch.

He nodded after a long pause. "Fine. But remember who you work for."

She turned before he could see the tremble in her hands.

Forget it ever happened.

Too bad her body still remembered.