Monday morning smells like ambition and espresso.
Also trouble.
Trouble in an Armani suit, apparently, because the moment I step into the sleek, glass-wrapped building of Hart & Co., I nearly drop my phone from the shock of how annoyingly attractive my new boss is.
Mr. Damon Hart. CEO. Certified tyrant. Office heartthrob. Rumor has it he’s a storm wrapped in silk always scowling, never smiling, and allergic to small talk.
I hadn’t expected him to be… this. Towering, chiseled jaw, sharp cheekbones, and that dark hair swept back with effortless arrogance. His tailored suit hugs every hard angle of his body like it was stitched on.
He walks past the front desk without glancing at anyone. When his eyes finally meet mine—stormy gray and piercing—I forget how to breathe for a second.
“You’
