Chapter One

Isabella

“You’re gonna be late… you cannot be late,” I chant, grabbing my travel mug and making a sprint across my apartment toward the front door, cursing the deadbolt when it catches. “If you’re late, Sabrina will flip and if Sabrina flips, your life will enter the seventh circle of hell.”

I throw myself into the car, a string of profanity slipping out as I see the time glowing from within the dash. I immediately peel out and nearly spill coffee all over my skirt.

I’d like to tell you I’m running late because I was out all night, partying with my friends. I’d like even more to tell you that I hooked up with some random guy who rocked my world so hard we kept my elderly neighbors awake until three in the morning.

Both would be a lie.

I was up late binge watching Netflix, slumped against my futon while I gorged myself on low-fat ice cream in my underwear. That statement probably wouldn’t sound quite as depressing if it hadn’t been the third night this week.

Glamorous, I know.

The truth is, I’ve never given much thought to how inactive my social life is. In fact, I hadn’t thought about it at all until a couple of weeks ago. I’d been content with my laidback routine for the better part of a year, but I wasn’t on my own then. At least, I didn’t know I was.

Now? Now, I’m very much on my own.

I’m not a total lost cause. I have a few close friends, but most are part of a couple. Since Ben and I split, the last thing I want to become is a third wheel or someone’s matchmaking project.

Besides, I need to focus on me for a while. Focus on the career I’d pushed to the side a year ago when I met the man I thought would be my happy ending, only to find out I was little more than a binge for him, as well.

That is if I can manage to get my ass to work on time.

Thirty minutes later, I slam on the breaks in front of the familiar high rise on Broadway and shove my door open quickly.

I wonder if he ever ‘fessed up to his real girlfriend?

“Stop it,” I admonish myself as I toss my flats into the floorboard, slipping on my heels and moving toward the entrance. “The guy was a lying, cheating, good-for-nothing creep and you’re late.”

I shake my head clear and release the deep breath lodged inside my chest, trying my best to push all the negative shit away from my mind.

“Good morning, Mr. Frank,” I smile, flashing my badge toward the heavyset security guard who has been here to greet employees every morning for more than forty years and me personally for the past four.

“Buongiorno, Isabella,” he says with a toothy grin in his deep voice, gravelly with age and making my smile widen. “When are you gonna let me take you on a date?”

“Mr. Frank, you know you’re the only man in my life,” I give him a playful wink, chuckling when he lets out a loud hoot. “Have a good day!”

“I will, doll face,” he calls after me. “You do the same.”

I may have my qualms about my career, same as most anyone. If I’m being honest, though, it’s a great job. I officially started at Avery Financial immediately after completing my college internship here and I count myself just as lucky now as I was then to have it.

Is the work always exciting? No, not really, but I’m doing something I like. Despite my free-spirit, advertising is something I’d gravitated to early in college. The fact that I’m able to get paid doing something I both enjoy and am good at? Well, I’d be crazy to ever complain about that.

I shake the thought and make my way to the elevators, hoping like hell when I step off, my supervisor will already be holed up in her office for the morning. As the doors slide open, I poke my head out and breathe a sigh of relief as I see the floor mostly empty.

“Oh, praise Jesus,” I whisper, stepping out quickly as I glance over my shoulder, walking directly into a well-tailored chest with an umph that jostles my coffee. “Jeez! Would you watch where you’re going?”

“Running late?” I hear through my grumble as I scan myself for any sign of spilled coffee.

“Why don’t you-?” I start, promptly biting my tongue when I see who is attached to the well-tailored suit I’ve just slammed into.

Adam Avery, as in Avery Finance, as in the newest CEO and the man who has the power to ruin my life with the mere suggestion of my replacement.

I don’t know much about him. What I do know is the media went insane when he seemingly came out of the shadows to take over the company a month ago when his uncle, the former CEO, fell ill. None of us have any idea where he came from and he seems just fine keeping it that way.

We were all heartbroken to see Richard Avery go. Despite the rumors swirling around his family after his nephew arrived, he was such a sweet and caring man who was very well-loved by his employees. We’d hoped keeping the business in the Avery family would prove to produce another wonderful boss.

Instead, we got the only Avery qualified to run this company: the well-built, stone-faced demigod in front of me.

And I just spilled my hazelnut latte all over his tie.

“Go on,” he arches his brow while the rest of his face stays put, staring down at me expectantly.

“Shit…” I blurt, my cheeks heating wildly when he tilts his head in further surprise at my objectionable behavior. “I’m sorry,” I manage, searching around me for something to help clean the spill. “Let me just…”

When my surroundings give me nothing, I quickly reach into my bag for a receipt from the gas station and begin awkwardly attempting to help. I manage to soak up some of the liquid, but as I begin to scrub at the silk tie that was likely worth half my weekly salary, it’s not looking any better. In fact, it seems to be getting worse by the minute.

“Can you please stop?” he finally says as he squares his jaw, putting us both out of our temporary misery as my eyes come back to his. “Just go.”

“Okay,” I nod as I internally kick myself, stopping when I hear him clear his throat once more. “Yes?”

“Which department are you in?”

“Marketing and advertising,” I answer, pulling a nod from him.

“Sabrina Michaels is your direct superior?”

“Yes,” I mutter.

“Perfect,” he squares his shoulders as he moves back toward his office without another glance in my direction. “Let her know I’d like a word with her.”

Fuck. Me.

Adam

As if I didn’t have enough to worry about this morning, I could add smelling like a stale gym sock to my agenda thanks to my little rendezvous on the main floor with…

I didn’t catch her name.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed her the first week I arrived. She’s tall, petite and her long mahogany locks make her blue eyes pop. She’s everything any hot blooded man would notice, I just don’t have time for anything more than the mountain of paperwork on my desk at the moment. My assistant, Richard’s assistant, hasn’t shown up to work after it was announced he wouldn’t be returning, leaving an ill-equipped temp named Margaret in her place.

Margaret isn’t helping anyone.

I’ve spent my first month here fighting to not become overwhelmed. I’ve done the legwork, buried myself in the tasks Richard left in the air when he was forced into early retirement, but I still feel like I’m running a marathon most days.

Was I surprised when I found out he’d passed on his company to me? Maybe, but with my absentee father dead and my cousin, Simon, in an out of rehab for the better part of a year after snorting up the bulk of his inheritance, I can’t say it comes as a complete shock. He’s always said he wanted to keep this business in the family and despite the tumultuous relationship I’d had with my father, I’ve always maintained a positive one with Richard. He’s one of the few ties I have to the Avery name.

The first order of business on my agenda is to finish getting up to speed on what could potentially be one of the most lucrative contracts in this company’s history. My uncle had worked tirelessly to get the project up and running, speaking to me about it often, so I know it’s something that means much to him. Not only do I not want to let him down, I don’t want to let myself down, either.

Everything I’ve done since I stepped through those doors four weeks ago has been building up to this.

Failure is not an option.

When my mother got pregnant with me, my father failed to mention he was married to another woman. Instead of being a man and taking responsibility, he bolted, only offering minimal support when my mother threatened to go to the media and reveal the kind of man he truly was.

Needless to say, there was no real support from my father growing up and I watched my mother struggle for years as a single parent. I’d maintained a relationship with my uncle and paternal grandmother, but for the most part, I’m an Avery by default. Once I was of age, I’d even considered changing my name altogether, but resentment is a tricky thing and I’ve never been one to resist a good old-fashioned grudge. As much as I hated the man, having any other name than Avery would make things far too easy on dear old dad.

I busted my ass through school making the first of my fortune a year ago, selling the internet-based company I’d started in college. Now, I’m sitting pretty as a CEO of a major corporation.

It hasn’t come without its complications. When Richard announced his retirement and my immediate appointment as CEO, I became the dirty little secret my father had been hiding for more than thirty years. The first couple of weeks were admittedly hard. I was harassed by the media. Day and night, I was followed and ridiculed, both my competence and bloodline in question. Reporters wanted the inside scoop of how my father had kept his extramarital affairs a secret, wondering where I’d been hiding along with them.

I haven’t been hiding anywhere. I’ve been preparing for this my whole life.

Like I said, resentment is a tricky thing.

I’m proud, ambitious, driven and determined… determined to prove my father wrong for all the times he called me a worthless bastard, even if it means doing it as he rots six feet beneath the earth.

My father’s name might have helped me get this company, but I don’t need anything else from him to keep it.

The buzz from the intercom and the voice that follows pulls me from my bitter thoughts. I release a long, cleansing breath and I face it, pressing the button.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Michaels is here to see you, sir.”

“Please send her in.”

A moment later, a small-framed older woman with prominent features and a nervous smile makes her way into my office, her lips falling when my lips don’t turn up in response.

“Good morning, Mr. Avery. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she begins. “You asked to see me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I confirm with a curt nod, gesturing toward the vacant chair in front of my desk. “Please have a seat.”

“Thank you,” she smiles once more, settling in front of me before giving me her full attention. “Is there something I can do for you, sir?”

“There is,” I nod, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “One of the women in your department, the one who asked you to see me?” I begin, her eyes shifting in understanding. “What is her name and what position does she hold in your department?”

“Isabella Baxter,” she says immediately. “She’s my assistant and works directly under me. However she also spearheads a few of our smaller campaigns.”

“Does she?” I ask, raising my eyes from the screen in front of me that holds Miss Baxter’s personal file. “Which accounts are hers?”

She mentions accounts I’ve heard little about, but are familiar from lists I’ve been going over since my arrival. She’s trying her best to remain calm, but I can tell by her body language, the way she discreetly begins to wring her hands in her lap, she’s nervous.

This isn’t the first time I’ve made someone nervous.

“Would you say she’s an asset to your department?” I ask, resting back in my chair. “Is she competent? Reliable? Knowledgeable?”

“She has been for years, sir,” she nods. “However, she’s been having some personal issues recently that have caused her to not be quite herself lately.”

“Personal issues have no place here,” I cut her off, pulling another nod of understanding. “This is a business.”

“I agree, sir,” she says. “I plan to address the issue and give you my word it will be taken care of. There won’t be any future incidents with Miss Baxter.”

My mind flashes to the girl I’d bumped into this morning, the way her voice rasped as she quietly attempted to put me in my place before realizing who I was. Her blue eyes, her full lips, her round ass as she walked away… something about having no future incidents with a woman like her makes something inside me twinge with regret.

I shake the thought and face the nervous woman across from me.

“That won’t be necessary,” I offer, pulling a look of surprise from her. “I’ll handle it directly.”

“Of course,” she smiles.

“Thank you, Mrs. Michaels. That will be all.”