Zadie’s POV
I was late. Not just “oops, five minutes” late. I mean sprinting-through-the-lobby-in-heels kind of late. Perfect way to start a deep-cover operation, right? I blame the my sleepless fucking nights.
More specifically? The one-night-stand-from-hell that left me sore in places I didn’t even know could hurt. That man wrecked me. Physically, mentally, spiritually. I still had bruises on my thighs and flashbacks of his voice telling me to call him sir. And I still didn’t know his f*cking name.
I hated myself a little. Okay… a lot. But I didn’t have time to wallow. Today, I had to become someone else. Marina Velastro: age twenty-eight, corporate assistant, clean résumé, no criminal record, fake references, quiet, smart, and loyal. The kind of woman who blends in, gets coffee, and smiles when she’s being talked over.
Not exactly me. I was Zadie Hollis. Federal agent. Trained to fire under pressure, crack suspects, lie better than any man I’ve ever met. My job? Infiltrate, expose, and survive. The Bureau handed me this case because no one else could pull it off. Or maybe because no one else was stupid enough to take it.
Saventino Corporation. Rumored front for international smuggling, arms dealing, and laundering money so clean it sparkled. No photos, no confirmed ID on the CEO. I was going in blind. My mission? Get inside, stay low, gather dirt, and burn it from the inside out.
All of that started with one fake résumé and a risky-ass walk-in interview. I tugged my pencil skirt down, grabbed my purse, and pushed through the double glass doors like I wasn’t already sweating through my bra.
The lobby was massive. Cold. Intimidating. The kind of place where the walls scream money and the silence is probably recorded. I marched straight to the front desk.
The woman behind it didn’t even look up. “Name?”
“Marina Velastro. I have an interview.”
She finally looked at me, then glanced at the clock behind her. She arched an eyebrow. “You’re late for the executive assistant interview.”
I flashed her the best fake smile I could muster. “Traffic was a bitch.”
She didn’t smile back. “Take the elevator to the top floor. Someone will meet you.”
I grabbed the visitor badge she shoved at me and headed for the elevator before she could change her mind. My heels echoed across the marble like gunshots. I hated them already. Inside the elevator, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Tight ponytail. Soft makeup. Neutral lipstick. Eyes that looked calm, even if I was two seconds from spiraling.
The doors opened to the top floor. Everything up here was quieter. Deadly rich. A receptionist waited at a small desk outside what had to be the CEO’s office.
“Miss Velastro?” she asked, glancing at her tablet. “You were scheduled for ten.”
“I know,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry. I was hoping someone could still see me.” She looked me up and down. I kept my face neutral.
She sighed. “Wait here. I’ll check.”
As she walked off, I paced. You’ve got this, Zadie. You can lie your way out of a kidnapping. You can absolutely fake your way through a damn interview. Still, part of me couldn’t stop thinking about it. The stranger. The night I threw all logic out the window. I wasn’t drunk enough to forget how it felt. His hands. His mouth. His- my stomach twisted.
Why the hell did I give him my first time? Me, of all people? I’d spent years building walls. Keeping everyone out. Saying no. Then one hot stranger smiles at me, and suddenly I’m in a hotel screaming harder? God, I was an idiot.
The receptionist returned. “Mr. Saventino can squeeze you in.” I nodded like my heart wasn’t already punching my ribs.
She opened the door. “Go ahead.”
I stepped inside. The office was massive. All black and glass and expensive silence. No personal touches. Just power in architectural form. And then I saw him. Not his full face. Just the back.
Broad shoulders. Jet-black hair. Rolled sleeves. One hand in his pocket. The other resting on the edge of the desk. His posture? Pure control. Something about it made my pulse spike. No, stop. Get a grip.
He turned, just slightly, and I caught the angle of his jaw. Sharp and familiar. My breath caught for half a second. But I forced it down. Just nerves. Just nerves. He still hadn’t looked at me.
“Sit,” he said without turning around. The voice? Rough. Low. No way. There’s no way in hell that’s him. Right?
I sat down. Heart racing, hands sweating. Telling myself there’s absolutely no chance the man I slept with is about to interview me for a job. Please let it just be my brain playing tricks.