The gold-trimmed glass doors of Ashbourne Global closed behind me with a sigh, swallowing the outside noise of Manhattan. Inside, everything was too pristine. Too cold. A marble palace made of money, power, and men who had both.
I clutched my portfolio like a shield, pretending my palms weren't slick with sweat. The HR assistant barely looked up as she gestured to the sleek leather chairs by the floor-to-ceiling window.
"Mr. Finn Hart will be with you shortly," she said, tapping her headset.
Finn Hart. The golden brother. Charming, clean-cut, America's favorite future CEO. The one I'd researched obsessively the night before, hoping that if I memorized enough press interviews, I could figure out what he wanted in a personal intern.
What he wanted, apparently, was not to be on time.
I smoothed my skirt and checked my phone, pretending I wasn't mentally calculating the number of job rejections this year had stacked against me. Twenty-seven. This was number twenty-eight—if I blew it.
The elevator pinged behind me.
I turned.
And froze.
It wasn't Finn.
The man who stepped out was taller. Broader. The kind of masculine that made air feel heavier. He wore black like it was stitched onto his skin—fitted dress pants, no tie, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms laced with ink. His dark hair was tousled just enough to look like it had been pulled by hands that wanted to feel him unravel.
His eyes met mine across the lobby.
I looked away too fast.
My pulse stuttered.
That wasn't Finn Hart.
But it had to be him—the other one. The wrong one.
Knox Hart.
The notorious older brother. The black sheep. Billionaire bad boy turned media scandal, then vanished from the company entirely—until last month, when rumors whispered he'd returned to stake his claim in the family empire.
And he was walking right toward me.
My heart stuttered as his footsteps echoed over the marble.
Please keep walking. Please don't—
"Lost, trouble?"
I looked up—and immediately regretted it.
His voice was whiskey-dark and smooth. And his eyes? Midnight and smirking. Like he already knew things about me no one else did.
"I—I'm not lost," I said, standing. "I'm here to interview with Mr. Finn Hart."
He glanced at my portfolio, then back to my face.
"That's cute," he murmured. "You wore heels for him."
I flushed. "Excuse me?"
His gaze dropped—slow and deliberate—down my body and back up. "He likes his interns sweet. Naive. Bendable."
I clenched my jaw. "You clearly have me confused with someone else."
"No," he said. "I don't."
And then he walked away. Just like that.
I turned, heart pounding, trying not to let the heat in my cheeks show. He was just trying to get in my head. A power play. Men like him thrived on making women flinch.
I didn't flinch.
Mostly.
The elevator dinged again. I looked over to see a much more polished man step out—sandy blond hair, trim navy suit, warm smile.
Finn.
"Miss Winters?" he said, offering his hand.
I shook it, surprised by the steadiness in his grip. "Yes. Thank you for seeing me."
"My pleasure," he said, smiling like I was already hired. "Let's talk upstairs."
I followed him into the elevator, grateful for the calm contrast to the storm that had passed just moments ago.
As the doors closed, Finn pressed the button for the top floor.
"So," he said, glancing at me sideways. "You met my brother."
I blinked. "That was Knox Hart?"
He laughed under his breath. "Hard to miss, isn't he?"
"He seemed… intense."
"That's one word for it." His voice shifted, just a touch. "If he gives you a hard time, tell me. Seriously."
"Are you two…?"
"Close?" Finn said, the smile fading slightly. "Not anymore."
The rest of the ride was silent, but my chest was a warzone. Because now I had a problem bigger than landing the job.
I had to make sure I didn't get caught between the wrong two men.
The top floor was a sanctuary of minimalistic luxury—floor-to-ceiling windows, minimalist art, and a view of Manhattan that made my chest ache. Finn led me into a sleek glass-walled conference room and offered me a seat.
"Relax," he said. "This isn't a trap."
I laughed nervously. "You're very different from what I expected."
"Because I'm not Knox?"
"Because you're… nice."
That made him smile again, this time softer. "Don't let him get in your head. He's all bark."
"Is that what got you the good brother label?"
Finn's eyes darkened just a little. "I don't know if there's such a thing as good in this family. Just degrees of damage."
I didn't ask what that meant. I didn't need to.
The interview shifted into more professional talk—my education, my goals, what I was looking to gain from the position. He listened, nodded, and gave nothing away.
Until the end.
"Last question," he said, leaning forward. "Why do you want to work here?"
My throat tightened. "Because I need to prove I belong in a place like this. That I'm not just the girl who grew up fixing her mom's bills with fake IDs and canned excuses."
His eyes locked with mine, surprised.
Then he smiled again. "Welcome to Ashbourne Global."
By the time I returned to the lobby with my signed contract, the air had shifted. Knox was no longer in sight, but I felt his presence like smoke clinging to the walls.
I stepped into the elevator. The mirrored doors closed.
And someone stepped in just before they did.
Knox.
Again.
He stood silently beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body. His reflection in the elevator glass was pure sin—jaw clenched, eyes sharp, mouth unreadable.
"Congratulations," he murmured. "Finn doesn't usually hire distractions."
I scoffed. "I'm not a distraction."
"You will be."
The elevator dinged. I stepped out. So did he.
We walked in silence until I reached the front doors.
His voice stopped me.
"You don't belong here, you know."
I turned slowly. "Excuse me?"
"Finn thinks you're light. Hope. Redemption." He stepped closer, eyes locked to mine. "But you and I both know… you crave the dark."
His breath brushed my ear.
"You just haven't tasted it yet."