Damon Cross didn't believe in accidents.
Everything that happened inside his company, inside his world, was controlled, precise, calculated.
So when a curvy little woman in a floral hoodie and sneakers showed up in his office, smiling like she belonged there, alarms started blaring in his head.
And Damon Cross never ignored alarms.
He stood by the window, back stiff, hands clasped behind him, glaring at the skyline. Behind him, he could feel her presence — too warm, too bright — like someone had turned on a goddamn space heater.
"Explain," he said coldly, not turning around.
Lila coughed delicately into her fist.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding."
He turned then, slowly, pinning her with a look that could freeze boiling water.
"I don't tolerate misunderstandings. Or liars."
Lila resisted the urge to fidget. She smiled — polite, harmless, non-threatening.
"Your grandfather offered me a... temporary position."
Damon's jaw tightened.
"My grandfather is eighty-four and occasionally delusional."
Lila blinked.
"I'm not delusional."
He didn't smile. He didn't even blink.
He just stalked toward her, slow and deliberate, like a panther deciding whether to eat something or just bat it around for a while.
"What's your real game?" he asked, voice soft and dangerous.
"Gold digger? Corporate spy? Career leech?"
Lila's mouth dropped open.
"Excuse you," she snapped, instinct overriding common sense. "I'm not digging for anything, and I definitely don't have a career worth leeching!"
The sheer gall of him.
Yes, he was handsome — stupidly handsome — but clearly, he was also an A-grade jackass.
Damon arched a brow, as if surprised she had enough backbone to talk back.
"You're here for money," he said flatly.
"You want a handout."
"I'm here because I made a deal," Lila shot back, cheeks flushing.
"I do my job. Your grandfather keeps his promise. That's it."
Damon's icy blue eyes narrowed.
"And what, exactly, is your 'job'?"
Lila hesitated.
Maybe don't tell him the whole "fall in love" plan right away, a voice in her head whispered.
He already looks like he wants to throw you off the balcony.
She smiled again — bright, fake, blinding.
"Client relations."
Damon laughed, a short, humorless sound.
"You're terrible at lying," he said.
"You should work on that."
He turned away from her, striding toward his massive desk, dismissing her with a wave.
"You'll report to HR. They'll find you a closet to organize or something."
"I'm not here to organize closets," Lila said firmly.
He paused.
Slowly, he turned, one brow lifting in dangerous amusement.
"No?"
She lifted her chin.
"No."
The air between them crackled — challenge and tension thick enough to touch.
For a heartbeat, Damon just stared at her.
Then — to her utter shock — his lips curled into a smirk.
Not a friendly one. A shark's smile.
"Fine," he drawled. "If you're serious about working for me, prove it."
"How?"
He stepped closer until she could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the silver glint of his cufflinks.
He smelled like something expensive — dark coffee and rain and danger.
"Survive the day," he murmured.
Lila blinked.
"That's it?"
Damon's smirk deepened.
"You'll be begging to quit before lunch."
Two hours later, Lila wanted to punch something.
Preferably Damon's face.
He had assigned her to the worst tasks possible:
Delivering confidential documents across four different floors — no elevators allowed.
Taking lunch orders for an entire boardroom, then fetching them from five different restaurants.
Sorting two years' worth of chaotic legal files, all labeled in what might have been Sanskrit.
By noon, her sneakers were worn, her arms ached, and her brain buzzed.
But she wasn't quitting.
Hell no.
She plopped the final stack of files on the desk outside Damon's office and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
A shadow loomed over her.
She turned — and there he was, arms folded, watching her with something suspiciously like... curiosity.
"Still standing?" he said mockingly.
"Sorry to disappoint," she said sweetly, forcing herself to straighten.
His lips twitched — the ghost of a smile quickly strangled.
"You're persistent," he murmured.
"You're insufferable," she muttered under her breath.
Unfortunately, Damon heard her.
To her horror, he actually chuckled — a low, dangerous sound that made something in her stomach flip.
"You might be fun to keep around after all," he said.
Lila frowned.
"I'm not a stray dog."
"No," he said thoughtfully, those cold blue eyes raking over her again. "You're more like a hedgehog."
She gaped at him.
"A... hedgehog?"
"Small. Spiky. Impossible to ignore."
And with that, he turned and walked back into his office, leaving her standing there — furious, exhausted, and weirdly flattered.
God help her.
She might just survive this after all.