MIRA’S POV
The midnight blue dress hung perfectly on the executive bathroom door as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I'd spent two hours at Bergdorf Goodman, trying on dress after dress until I found this one, silk that hugged my curves without being inappropriate, elegant without being boring, exactly what Adrian had asked for.
Striking, he'd said. The word echoed in my mind as I touched up my makeup with slightly trembling fingers.
I'd made the executive decision to get ready at the office rather than go home.
The last thing I needed was Jesse asking questions about where I was going and who I was going with. The fewer lies I had to tell him, the better.
"You're playing with fire, Mira," I whispered to my reflection.
But as I slipped into the dress and felt the silk slide over my skin, I couldn't bring myself to care. For tonight, I was going to be Elise Hart, successful executive assistant, accompanying her boss to an important business dinner. Nothing more, nothing less.
My phone buzzed. Adrian.
"I'm ready," I said, answering on the first ring.
"Where are you?" His voice was rough, distracted.
"Still at the office. I decided to get ready here instead of going home."
A pause. "I'm outside in the car. Take your time."
"I'll be right down."
I gathered my purse and the small clutch I'd bought to match the dress, took one last look in the mirror, and headed for the elevators. My heels clicked against the marble floor, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. Most of the staff had gone home hours ago, leaving the building quiet and almost intimate.
The elevator seemed to take forever to reach the ground floor. When the doors finally opened, I stepped into the lobby and immediately spotted the sleek black sedan waiting outside. Through the tinted windows, I could see Adrian's silhouette in the back seat.
The driver, a professional-looking man in his fifties, stepped out and opened the door for me. "Ms. Hart?"
"Yes, thank you."
I slid into the car, the leather seats soft beneath me, and immediately felt the change in atmosphere.
Adrian was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his dark hair styled to perfection, but it was the way he looked at me that made my breath catch.
His eyes traveled over me slowly, taking in every detail, the way the dress hugged my curves, the way I'd swept my hair into an elegant updo, the subtle shimmer of my lipgloss. When his gaze finally met mine, the intensity there made my pulse race.
"You look..." He paused, his voice rougher than usual. "Incredible."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself."
"This old thing?" He gestured to his suit with a slight smile, but his eyes never left mine. "I wanted to make sure I didn't embarrass you."
"I don't think that's possible."
The compliment hung between us, loaded with meaning. The car pulled away from the curb, and I found myself hyperaware of every detail, the way he smelled like expensive cologne and something uniquely him, the way his hand rested on the seat between us, the way the city lights played across his features.
"Tell me about tonight," I said, trying to focus on business. "What should I expect?"
"The Meridian board is old-fashioned, traditional. They believe in family values, stability." His smile was sardonic. "They need to see that I'm not just a ruthless bachelor who cares about nothing but profit."
"And I'm your proof of that?"
"You're my proof that I understand the value of partnership." His eyes darkened. "That I can be... civilized when the situation calls for it."
"And what exactly does that mean for tonight?"
"It means we need to convince them that we're..." He gestured vaguely between us. "Close, professional but personal. They need to see the connection."
My heart hammered against my ribs. "Connection?"
"Nothing inappropriate," he said quickly. "Just... the suggestion of something more than a typical boss-employee relationship."
"I see."
"Do you?" He leaned closer, his voice dropping to that dangerous whisper. "Because I need to know you're comfortable with this. If at any point you want to leave—"
"I can handle it," I interrupted, proud of how steady my voice sounded.
"Good." His smile was sharp, predatory. "Because tonight, you're mine."
The possessive edge in his tone sent electricity shooting through my veins. His. The word echoed in my mind as the car pulled up to the restaurant, an exclusive place with a reputation for privacy and discretion.
"Ready?" Adrian asked as the driver opened our door.
"Ready."
He stepped out first, then offered me his hand. The moment our skin touched, I felt that familiar electric current, but this time I didn't pull away. Instead, I let him help me from the car, let his hand settle on the small of my back as we walked toward the entrance.
The restaurant was everything I'd expected, dimly lit, elegant, the kind of place where million-dollar deals were made over aged wine and perfectly prepared food. The maître d' led us to a private dining room where three men in expensive suits were already seated.
"Gentlemen," Adrian said as we approached the table. "I'd like you to introduce Elise Hart, my executive assistant."
"Assistant?" The man at the head of the table, silver-haired with cold blue eyes, looked me up and down like I was merchandise. "She's quite lovely for an assistant."
"Ms. Hart is exceptionally qualified," Adrian said smoothly, but I caught the edge in his voice. "Harvard MBA, five years at Goldman Sachs."
"I'm sure she has many... talents," another man said with a leer that made my skin crawl.
Adrian's hand pressed more firmly against my back, a gesture that was both possessive and protective. "Indeed she does. Shall we sit?"
The dinner proceeded with the usual corporate pleasantries. I smiled at the right moments, contributed to conversations about market trends and acquisition strategies, and played the part of the accomplished woman at Adrian's side.
But beneath the surface, I was hyperaware of every glance, every casual touch, every moment when Adrian's attention shifted to me.
"So, Ms. Hart," the silver-haired man, Richard Meridian, said during the main course. "How long have you been working for Adrian?"
"Seven weeks," I replied smoothly.
"And how are you finding it? Working so closely with such a... demanding man?"
There was something in his tone that made my spine stiffen. "Mr. Roth has very high standards. I appreciate that in an employer."
"I'm sure you do." Meridian's smile was oily. "And I'm sure he appreciates having such an attractive young woman around. Must make those long nights at the office more... enjoyable."
The implication was clear and disgusting. I felt Adrian go rigid beside me, his jaw tightening with barely controlled anger.
"Mr. Meridian—" I started, but Adrian cut me off.
"Actually," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, "Ms. Hart's physical appearance is the least interesting thing about her. Her insights on the Hoffman acquisition saved us fifteen million dollars, and her analysis of market trends identified three potential growth areas that your own team missed."
The temperature at the table dropped ten degrees. "I wasn't suggesting—"
"Weren't you?" Adrian's smile was all teeth. "Because it sounded like you were implying that I make hiring decisions based on anything other than merit. Which would be both insulting to me and incredibly disrespectful to Ms. Hart."
Meridian backpedaled quickly, but the damage was done. The rest of the dinner passed in strained politeness, with Adrian's protective anger simmering just beneath the surface.
"That went well," I said quietly as we waited for the car, trying to lighten the mood.
"Meridian is a pig," Adrian said flatly. "I should have shut him down sooner."
"You defended me perfectly."
"You shouldn't have needed defending." He turned to face me, something fierce burning in his dark eyes. "You're brilliant, Elise. Anyone who can't see that is a fool."
The intensity in his voice made my breath catch. "Adrian—"
"The car's here," he said, but he didn't move toward it.
We stood there on the sidewalk, the space between us charged with electricity. His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I felt myself swaying toward him without conscious thought.
"We should go," I whispered.
"Yes. We should."
But when he helped me into the car, his hand lingered on my back, his fingers tracing a pattern against the silk of my dress that had nothing to do with politeness and everything to do with possession. The touch burned through the fabric, branding me, claiming me in a way that terrified and thrilled me in equal measure.
As the car pulled away from the restaurant, I realized with crystal clarity that I was in serious trouble. Because somewhere between the protective anger and the possessive touches, between the heated glances and the whispered words, I'd stopped pretending this was just business.
And Adrian's hand was still on my back, fingers spread across my spine like he had no intention of ever letting me go.