Aria arrived at the executive wing fifteen minutes early.
She hadn't slept. Not really. She'd laid in bed for hours replaying every word from last night, every glance, every unfinished sentence that hung between her and Killian like razor wire.
And now, she was walking into the lion's den—wide awake, fully armored.
Her heels echoed sharply against the gleaming tiles, each step echoing a confidence she didn't quite feel. But the illusion mattered—especially here.
"Ms. Blake," said Tanya, stepping into pace beside her. "Department heads are already assembling in the private conference suite. You're on the schedule too."
"I figured."
Tanya lowered her voice. "There's a rumor floating that he's restructuring the entire chain. Starting with us."
Aria didn't respond. She knew better than to feed gossip.
But a hollow space opened in her chest anyway.
Killian wasn't just flexing power—he was redesigning the playing field.
And she was either going to survive it… or be swallowed whole.
The boardroom was sleek and cold. Polished black marble. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Chrome chairs that looked more like weapons than furniture. The resort spared no expense here—every inch of the space screamed money, control, strategy.
Aria sat at the far end of the table, opposite Killian.
He didn't acknowledge her—not even a glance. His attention was fixed on a projected slide showing company growth trajectories and staffing inefficiencies.
He wore a navy suit today. No tie. Collar slightly open. Power, unrestrained.
"Effective immediately," he said, "the Sapphire Reef Resort will transition to Phase Two of our global expansion model. Some of you will be reassigned. Others released."
A murmur rippled through the room.
Someone near Aria let out a sharp breath. Another tapped nervously on a tablet.
"Relax," Killian added, voice calm. "This isn't war. It's optimization."
But Aria knew better.
When Killian spoke of optimization, it meant cutting fat—and sometimes arteries.
He ran empires like they were machines. Perfect. Precise. Disposable.
And if the machine needed oil, he'd bleed it from the most convenient source.
When the meeting ended, Killian stood. "Ms. Blake. Stay behind."
Of course.
She waited as the last executive slipped out, doors hissing shut.
Killian took his time gathering papers. Finally, he looked at her.
"You held your own," he said. "No shaking hands. No lip tremble. Impressive."
"Don't confuse composure with consent," Aria said.
His lips twitched, almost amused. "Noted."
"What exactly is my function, Killian? Really."
He circled the table, stopping beside her. "You'll act as liaison to the restructuring project. Think of it as… you being the eyes I can trust."
She stood. "You don't trust me."
"I trust your pride," he said. "That's always been consistent."
"I'm not here for games."
"I'm not playing."
But his voice said otherwise.
He walked toward the wall behind the head seat and pressed something.
A hidden panel clicked open, revealing a sleek built-in archive—a sliding shelf lined with old resort ledgers, acquisition documents, archived files.
Aria raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
Killian pulled a single black binder and handed it to her. "Historical operations ledger. You'll need to review it before tomorrow's vendor renegotiation."
She opened it—and froze.
Her name was on a notation near the back.
Projected staff transition: A. Blake – Executive Assistant consideration (pending engagement finalization).
Date: 6 days before he vanished.
Aria blinked.
Her heart didn't race. It throbbed—slow, heavy, confused.
"You were planning to bring me into the company?"
Killian didn't answer right away.
"It was a draft," he said finally. "A proposal. Nothing official."
"But you wrote it."
"Does it matter now?"
It did. But she didn't say that.
She shut the folder quietly. "Only if we're telling the truth."
He looked at her then. No smile. No cruelty. Just something tired in the corners of his eyes.
"Truth is overrated," he muttered. "You'll find the vendor files in the admin server. Login access has been granted."
And with that, he turned and walked away—leaving her standing alone in a room full of sharp edges and quiet ghosts.
Later that day, Aria found herself at the pool lounge café with her tablet in hand, sifting through spreadsheets. Tanya had dropped off espresso and a pastry—bless her—but Aria hadn't touched either.
Her thoughts were still stuck on that ledger.
Six days.
He was preparing a future with her just days before he abandoned her.
Why?
Why leave if the plan had been to stay?
She scrolled through the next vendor file, her jaw tightening.
None of this made sense.
Was he lying then, or now?
Or was this whole resort—this job, this assignment, this proximity—a carefully built trap designed to seduce her into old emotions?
She wasn't sure which possibility scared her more.
Her reflection in the tablet's black screen offered no clues—just the face of someone who'd stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago.
A shadow fell over the table.
"Ms. Blake," said a voice—soft, male, vaguely European.
She looked up into the lined face of a distinguished older man. He wore an expensive linen shirt, perfectly pressed slacks, and a pendant she couldn't quite place.
"I'm sorry," she said, "do I know you?"
"No," he smiled politely. "But I know him."
Her blood chilled.
The man gestured to the seat across from her. "May I?"
She nodded slowly. "Sure."
He sat, folded his hands. "I won't take much of your time. I only wanted to say—watch your footing, Miss Blake."
She frowned. "Excuse me?"
The man smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Killian Laurent is not the same boy who disappeared."
"He's not a boy at all."
"True. But he is someone with unfinished debts. And not all of them are romantic."
Aria's pulse ticked faster. "Who are you?"
"Just a former associate. Old shadows. Old regrets." He rose, bowing his head slightly. "Forgive the interruption. Enjoy your coffee."
And just like that, he walked away.
Aria stared after him, heart pounding.
Who was that man?
What did he mean, unfinished debts?
And what kind of past was Killian hiding behind all that power and polish?
She stood abruptly and gathered her things. Work could wait. Curiosity couldn't.
If she was going to survive this game…
She needed to start learning the rules.
And fast.