Chapter 07

Anna's POV

The apartment door clicked shut behind me, and I kicked off my heels with a laugh. What a day.

"Some coincidence," I murmured, pouring myself a glass of red wine and taking a sip. The guy I'd spent that unforgettable night with was now my boss. Life's got a twisted sense of humor.

Thinking back to this morning in the office, I almost wanted to clap for myself. "What happened that night was… pleasant, but it's in the past," I'd said, all professional, catching the quick flash of surprise in his eyes.

He clearly hadn't expected me to play it so cool.

Adrian Salvatore was something else—not just that handsome face, but the power rolling off him in waves with every move. I'd handled plenty of big shots before, though. I knew the game.

Still… damn, he was distractingly hot.

I stepped into the bathroom, letting the warm water cascade over me. That night slipped in uninvited—his touch, his scent, the maddening rhythm… Just a ripple from one night, I told myself. I could handle it.

My hands moved on their own, tracing the lines of my body, lingering at my chest. I shut my eyes, picturing his hands instead, sparking heat inside me. My fingers slid down my stomach, reaching that aching need between my legs. I couldn't hold back anymore.

The release hit hard and fast. I leaned against the wall, catching my breath, a satisfied smirk tugging my lips.

"Well, that's dealt with," I muttered to my reflection, fixing my hair. "Now, tomorrow's work."

For the next hour, I pored over my tablet, meticulous—reviewing Mr. Salvatore's company profile, setting up productivity apps. As an assistant, staying ahead was everything.

My phone buzzed—Faith's text: "How's the mystery CEO?"

"Totally professional. As it should be," I typed back, color-coding calendar slots for meetings, travel, and personal appointments.

Before bed, I laid out tomorrow's outfit—charcoal gray pantsuit, cream silk blouse. Sharp yet elegant, paired with heels comfy enough for all-day wear. Leather folio and tablet charged, ready to roll.

The alarm jolted me awake at 5 a.m. After a quick workout and shower, I took extra time on makeup and hair—subtle, polished. By 6:30, I was brewing coffee, checking traffic to Pacific Heights.

The pre-dawn streets were dead quiet. I pulled up at 6:55—a three-story mansion in the city's ritziest neighborhood.

At 7 sharp, Winston, the butler, greeted me in his crisp British clip. "Welcome, Ms. Rose. Follow me."

He ran through the essentials—security codes (key for early wake-ups) and Adrian's work habits—in a quick, no-nonsense briefing.

"Now, the morning's top task," Winston said, pausing in a tricked-out kitchen. "Mr. Salvatore's coffee. It's a skill you'll need to master."

He showed me the ropes. "Beans ground fresh, water at exactly 200 Fahrenheit." He measured the grounds into the filter, precise as a surgeon. "Mr. Salvatore prefers the clean taste of pour-over."

I watched, hooked. "Heard of kopi luwak, never seen it done."

"Quite unique, indeed. These beans come from a small ethical farm in Sumatra he vetted himself. Insists on wild-harvest only." Winston brewed with pride. "Smooth finish—caramel, dark chocolate, no bite."

While it steeped, he tossed out bits of Salvatore lore. "Known him since he was a lad," he said, nodding at a photo. "Always driven, focused. Lately, though…" He chose his words careful. "He's been more restless than usual. Up late again last night."

I jotted every detail—facts and the unspoken stuff too. A good assistant reads between the lines.

At 8:15, Winston frowned at his watch. "Odd. Security pinged movement an hour ago. He never drags himself up this early."

"Should I still take the coffee?" I asked, glad my voice held steady. I'd logged the perfect temp and timing on my tablet.

"Please do. Second floor, third door on the right." His tone carried weight.

I carried the tray upstairs, mentally running today's schedule. The bedroom was empty, but rustling came from the closet. I should've called out, knocked. Instead, I froze, staring as Adrian's bare back flexed, reaching for a shirt.

He turned, and I knew he'd clocked me ages ago. That panther grace hit me like a flashback—him closing in at the bar, him…

"Morning, Ms. Rose." His voice rasped with sleep, but his eyes cut sharp. "Winston showed you the ropes?"

I forced myself to meet his gaze, not drifting. "Yes, sir. Your coffee's prepped to Winston's spec. I've got today's rundown too—9:30 Tokyo call, 11 design team."

He stepped closer, reaching past me for a tie. That familiar cologne sent my pulse racing. "Had some urgent samples to check this morning," he said casual. "Wanted an early jump."

"Samples this early?" I couldn't help it, keeping my tone professionally curious. "Must be pressing."

He flashed that dangerous smile I knew too well. "Sometimes, Ms. Rose, certain things need… immediate attention." The hint was loud and clear.

My cheeks warmed, but I held steady. "Sure. Though in my experience, rushing big stuff rarely pans out best." I locked eyes, letting him see I could play too. "Better to take it slow, make sure every detail's… properly handled."

His gaze darkened. "Interesting take. But I recall you being pretty… efficient when motivated right."

That night flickered between us. I forced my breathing even. "Different context, Mr. Salvatore. Here, I lean toward steady precision." I slowed my moves deliberate, adjusting my tablet and pen. "Careful. Exact."

We headed back to the kitchen, where Winston had laid out breakfast on the formal table—fresh fruit, pastries, eggs benedict, all picture-perfect.

"Sir, a place for Ms. Rose?" Winston asked, polite but knowing. "Since you're up early, maybe go over the day?"

Adrian's eyes met mine. "Sure. Join us, Ms. Rose." His tone stayed pro, but an undercurrent quickened my pulse. "We've got plenty to cover."

"Of course, Mr. Salvatore." I sat, keeping space, flipping open my tablet. "I've drafted a weekly outline—Friday's charity gala included."

Winston set the table with slick efficiency. Sunlight streamed through the windows, gilding Adrian's sharp features in gold. His presence seemed to fill the whole room, making it tough to breathe.

"We need to lock in the Series C timeline too," Adrian said, voice deceptively light. But when I looked up, the intensity in his eyes snagged my breath—a challenge, a dangerous promise.

I made myself hold his stare, pulse picking up. "Of course, sir. Though some things need… careful thought before moving."

His lips curved into that knowing smile haunting my dreams. "They do, Ms. Rose. They do."

Silence settled thick between us, then his voice cut through the morning air, low and deliberate. "Why're you sitting so far off, Ms. Rose?" His eyes locked mine. "Are you scared…"

I didn't catch the rest, my head already spinning. We'd just agreed to keep it distant, and here he was, testing me. I sucked in a breath, staring back. "No, Mr. Salvatore. Just making sure the rules stay clear."