Few things in life are better than a beautiful woman. And if there’s something that I know about Union Airlines, it's that their CEO is fucking hot. Most of the meetings I have are with old farts with too much money for their own good, so this feels good for a change.

Still, don’t think I’ll allow her good looks to blind me. I’m not that fucking stupid, mind you. I’ve set my eyes on Union Airlines after their PR scandal, and I can smell an opportunity—oh, yeah, there’s some good money to be made. And if there’s something I love as much as I do women, it’s money. Yeah, I’m a fucking saint, nice to meet you too.

"Ares Stone," I introduce myself, leaning over the receptionist’s desk. She’s a young one, probably still fresh out of college, and there’s that look of innocence in her face … the kind of innocence that turns into wickedness behind a closed door. Exactly the kind of innocence I appreciate.

She stares at me for a few seconds, a pale crimson color taking over her face, and only then does she remember that she’s working. "Uh, yes. Mr. Stone. Uhm. Ms. Kane is expecting you," she points toward an imposing door at the end of the hall and, acknowledging her words with a nod, I turn on my heels and start making my way toward Daphne Kane’s office.

I could’ve asked the receptionist for her number, but I don’t want to get fucking distracted before a meeting like this. Daphne Kane might be a young beautiful woman, but her reputation precedes her. And if there’s something I’ve learned over the years, it's that you should never underestimate anyone—especially when they wear high heels.

Besides, this is Daphne fucking Kane we’re talking about. It’s not like she’s some mid-level executive pushing papers all day. She’s a fucking killer, the true brains behind the operations of one of the largest companies in the whole world. Hot and smart, now that’s a lethal combination. Although, I gotta admit, as lethal as she might be … that just makes me fucking excited.

I rap my knuckles against the door to her office and, without waiting for an answer, I turn the handle and step inside. Hers is a corner office and, instead of walls, paneled glass windows bridge the gap between the floor and the ceiling, allowing the sun to bathe the entire room. She’s sitting behind a large but sleek desk, her penetrating eyes already appraising me.

Want to hear my first impressions? Yeah, let’s just say that I was wrong when I called her beautiful. No, she’s a fucking goddess. That’s the thing with fucking magazines and photo ops, mostly they turn average girls into top models, but there are a few cases where pictures can’t capture how fucking beautiful a woman is. Daphne is a woman like that; you have to see her to understand.

"Sit down, Mr. Strong," she invites me, pointing at one of the chairs in front of her desk. Her voice is honeyed and sweet, and I can’t help but start to imagine how she’d sound screaming out my name.

"Thank you for taking the time," I start, sitting on the chair she pointed me to and locking my eyes on hers. "So, the reason I --"

"Please," she breathes out, cutting me short and waving her hand at me. "Are you going to insult me by explaining to me the reason why you wanted this meeting? I’m the CEO, it’s my job to know. I knew you’d want this meeting before you even thought of it."

Oh, she’s fierce. I like that.

"I guess we can cut the bullshit then. I’m here to save your company."

"Save my company? We’re not a rescue shelter in need of help, Ares," she says, dropping all formality and using my first name.

"Well, Daphne, I’m not so sure about that. Do you realize the mess you’re in? You might hold off the buyers for a few weeks, but in the end, you’ll have to sell Union Airlines. And if you have to do it, at least sell it to someone who knows what he’s doing."

"Oh, and I’ll take that you’re that person?" Is she mocking me? Because her tone makes it sound like it.

"I’m always that person. I’m your man, Daphne," I tell her, and the grin on her face tells me that she has already started to deconstruct my words.

"My man? What makes you think that? I’m a very demanding woman, you know? I’m not someone you can dazzle with your billions. If you think that the wealth of Strong Capital is supposed to impress me, think again."

"A demanding woman, uh? Well, you’re in luck; I just love demanding women," I start, and bite my lip just in time to stop what were about to become my next words: I love the way they moan. Still, even though I didn’t say it, the sly grin on her face tells me that she knows exactly what I wanted to say.

Leaning forward, her elbows on top of the desk, she looks straight into my eyes. "I’m not just demanding. I demand the best … the very best, always," she says, lowering her voice until it becomes just a whisper. I remain in silence for a couple of seconds, her words echoing inside my skull like hammers banging on anvils.

"Lucky day for you. Because I’m the very best," I whisper right back at her, making a herculean effort to keep my eyes on her face, which is a fucking hard thing to do, her cleavage being inches away from me and all that.

"Is that so? Then what’s your big plan to rescue me, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor?"

Okay, good. We’re talking about business. Which is good, since I was thinking of rescuing her over dinner and a bottle of red wine. God, what the fuck am I saying? I need to keep it together. This isn’t a fucking blind date.

"There’s no other way but to incur debt, Daphne. We’ll borrow a few billion dollars, expand routes, and invest in a massive PR campaign. We fight fire with fire; your enemies are trying to bury you with their PR arsenal, I say we fight right back. We leverage all the strength of Union Airlines, and we make it even stronger."

"We? That’s pretty assuming of you. I didn’t notice there was already a we," she says, once more leaning forward. This time, not expecting her to do it, I let my eyes dart to the patch of smooth skin between her breasts, their round curves looking like the perfect fit for my hands.

"Not yet, but there can be," I reply, peeling my eyes off her tits and breathing in deeply through my gritted teeth. Oh, yeah, I wouldn’t mind becoming a we with Daphne Kane—a naked we. The kind where you don’t know where one body starts and the other ends.

"If you work hard at it … maybe," she whispers, running the tip of her tongue between her lips. I imagine how it’d feel to have her crimson lips wrapped around my cock, and that makes my cock twitch and harden up in the space of two fucking heartbeats.

Before I even know what I’m doing, my elbows are propped up on the table and I’m leaning forward just like her, my gaze now a prisoner of her lips. Leaning further in at the same time, our mouths get caught up in a collision trajectory, the air around us crackling with electricity. I start closing my eyes and --

"Ms. Kane?" A voice comes through the intercom; it’s formal tone like a gunshot piercing the moment. "It’s almost time for your 9:15 appointment. He’s already in the building."

"Good. I’m done in here as well," she says, grinning and leaning back as she says it. What a fucking nice way to dismiss me, and now that this was just starting to become fun. "Well, Mr. Strong, you’ve made your case," she continues, smiling as she looks me up and down. "I’ll have to consider all the … implications."

"Please do," I respond, getting up to my feet and buttoning my jacket. With one last glance at her breasts, I force myself to turn on my heels and make for the door. "We’ll be in touch."

"Yes, we will."

In the back of my head, a wicked little voice is already hammering out a violent truth: more than business, this is a fucking hunt. And, oh, how I love to hunt women like Daphne Kane.