CHAPTER TWO

The elevator ride up to the penthouse was the longest ninety seconds of my life.

I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve dropped the damn folder on his secretary’s desk and gone home. But Damon Stone had called, voice sharp, low, and I’d found myself obeying like some desperate intern instead of a grown woman with a spine.

When the doors opened, I stepped into his world.

Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the glittering skyline. Dark leather couches, a crystal decanter half-full of whiskey, everything sharp, expensive, male.

And him.

He stood at the window, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. Broad shoulders framed in city light. His reflection...