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