The office was dead silent, the kind of stillness that only fell after 9 p.m. on a Friday. Most of the lights on the top floors were off, casting long shadows through the glass panels of Holt Enterprises. Eva Collins stood at the elevator, arms wrapped around a folder that contained the last-minute pitch her boss had demanded before vanishing into his corner office earlier that evening. She hated staying late. But when Grayson Holt said “stay,” you didn’t argue. You obeyed.
She pressed the elevator button and waited, trying to still her racing heart. She hadn’t even seen him when she left his office. Maybe he’d gone. Maybe she could finally breathe.
The elevator dinged.
The doors opened.
And her breath caught.
He was inside.
Grayson Holt. CEO. Her boss. Six foot three, broad shoulder
