Emilia's POV
Emilia thought she had survived the week. She was halfway through her paperwork, sipping her lukewarm coffee, when he appeared.
Adrian Volkov
He didn't knock, didn't clear his throat — he just filled the doorway, commanding the air around him like he owned it. His broad shoulders strained against his tailored black suit, his hair perfectly tousled in that maddening "effortless" way. Women swooned when he walked past. Emilia… wanted to strangle him.
"Emilia."
The sound of her name on his tongue made her pulse skip — not that she would ever admit it.
"Yes, Mr. Volkov?" She lifted her chin, keeping her tone crisp.
He stepped inside, every movement unhurried, deliberate, like a predator that already knew its prey couldn't run. "You'll be joining me in Milan tomorrow morning."
Her pen clattered against the desk. "…What?"
"Milan," he repeated casually, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Business trip. Be at the airport by nine. Don't be late."
Her eyes widened. "Tomorrow? You can't just spring that on me!"
"I just did." His lips curved into the faintest smirk.
"Mr. Volkov, I have a life outside this office," she protested, standing up now. "You can't order me around like—"
"I can." His voice dropped low, dangerous, but smooth as whiskey. "And I am."
Emilia's jaw tightened. "You're impossible."
"Unforgettable," he corrected silkily.
The nerve of him. The sheer arrogance. Emilia wanted to scream, but all she could do was glare as he turned and walked away, leaving her with nothing but his intoxicating cologne and the pounding of her own furious heartbeat.
---
Emilia & Lily
By the time Emilia got home, she was half out of her mind. Her suitcase lay open on the bed, clothes scattered in every direction. She'd pulled out three blouses, two skirts, and was still debating whether she needed heels or flats when her phone buzzed.
"Talk to me," Lily's familiar voice sang when Emilia picked up.
"You won't believe what he did." Emilia collapsed dramatically on the bed.
"Adrian?" Lily asked, already sounding far too amused. "What's he done now? Fired someone with that cold mafia glare? Or did he flash that wicked smile and make half the office faint?"
"Worse," Emilia groaned. "He's dragging me to Milan. Tomorrow. Just like that. No warning. He didn't even ask, Lily. He just told me I had to go."
Lily gasped. "Milan? As in Italy Milan?"
"Yes!" Emilia wailed. "Italy Milan! And with him! He's infuriating. He acts like the world bends just because he says so."
Lily chuckled. "Well… he's not wrong."
"Lily!"
Her friend just laughed harder. "Emi, come on. You've gotta admit — it's a little sexy. The bossy, commanding thing? I'd kill for a man who told me to pack for Milan."
"You're insane." Emilia clutched a blouse to her chest. "He's not some fantasy. He's arrogant, manipulative, and a total playboy. He probably has a woman warming his bed every night."
"And that bothers you, doesn't it?" Lily teased.
Emilia sputtered. "No! It's disgusting. He treats women like… like accessories. Disposable accessories."
There was a pause on the line. Then Lily's voice softened. "Emi, maybe he's not what you think. Maybe there's more to him than you see at the office."
Emilia shook her head. "No. I've seen enough. He's the kind of man I should stay miles away from."
"Too late for that," Lily sing-songed. "You'll be stuck on a flight with him. In Italy. In hotel rooms…"
"Stop it!" Emilia pressed a pillow over her face.
Her best friend just laughed again. "Fine, fine. But promise me you'll pack something sexy. You never know what could happen."
Emilia groaned and hung up before Lily could push further. But as she stood over her suitcase again, chewing her lip, her eyes drifted toward the little black dress at the back of her closet. The one she never wore. The one that clung in all the wrong — or maybe right — places.
She shook her head furiously. No. Absolutely not.
And yet, somehow, she found herself folding it neatly into the suitcase. Just in case.
---
Adrian's POV
Adrian Volkov didn't make plans — he made orders.
He hadn't intended to bring Emilia to Milan. But the moment he saw her bent over her desk that afternoon, silky hair spilling over her shoulder, her innocent eyes lifting to his in confusion… the decision was made.
She would come.
Not because he needed her. He could bring any assistant, any translator, any decoy. But Emilia was different.
She pushed back. She challenged him. She looked at him like he was both infuriating and fascinating, like she wanted to slap him and kiss him in the same breath.
And that intrigued him.
He leaned back in his leather chair that night, sipping his whiskey, staring at the glittering city skyline outside his penthouse window. His phone buzzed — another text from some model he'd been entertaining last week. He ignored it.
Instead, his mind drifted to Emilia.
He could picture her now — pacing her little apartment, pouting, maybe biting her lip in frustration as she packed. God, that lip. How he wanted to taste it, to see if her kisses were as fiery as her temper.
Adrian smiled darkly to himself.
Tomorrow, she would be in his world. His plane. His city. His rules.
And Emilia would realize there was no escaping him.
---
Later That Night – Emilia's POV
It was past midnight, but Emilia couldn't sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her packed suitcase sitting accusingly by the door.
She hated him. God, she hated him. The arrogance. The way he smirked when he knew he'd won. The way his eyes lingered just a second too long, as though he could strip her bare without touching her.
And yet… her stomach flipped every time she thought of him.
"Get a grip, Emilia," she whispered into the darkness. "He's your boss. He's a womanizer. He's trouble."
Her body didn't listen. Her skin felt hot, her pulse restless, her thoughts drifting where they shouldn't. To the way his voice had dropped low when he told her not to be late. To the heat in his eyes when she'd snapped back at him.
She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. This is a disaster.
Tomorrow, she would be trapped with Adrian Volkov. And she wasn't sure whether she wanted to strangle him… or fall into his arms.