Isabella’s POV
I shouldn’t be here.
Not at this hour. Not alone. Not with him.
The office was silent, long emptied of the day’s chaos, yet my heels echoed too loud across the marble as I approached the corner suite. Damien Cross’s office. The man whispered about in hushed voices and power plays. The man whose attention could make—or ruin—you.
I stopped at his door, took a deep breath, and knocked.
“Come in.”
His voice was smooth. Cool. Dangerous.
I stepped inside and the door clicked shut behind me like a trap.
He sat behind a glass desk, sleeves rolled up, forearms resting casually like he hadn’t just kept me waiting all day. His eyes—stormy gray and unreadable—lifted slowly from the folder in his hand to me.
“Miss Hart,” he said, voice low. “You stayed late.”
“You asked me to f
