If there was one thing Aria Sullivan hated more than closing shifts at Mel's Diner, it was being summoned to the boss's office on her very first day.
"The CEO wants to see you."
Those six words from Ms. Daniels were enough to turn her spine into overcooked spaghetti. She wanted to laugh, maybe even cry, but instead she found herself walking stiffly down the glossy hallway like she was headed for an execution.
No big deal, Aria. It's only Damian Blackwood. The man whose name is literally on the building. The one who owns half the town. The one who, oh yeah, also may or may not have glowing eyes and a murder-wolf sidekick.
Her flats squeaked against the polished floor. She winced at the sound. "Cool," she muttered under her breath. "Real smooth. Everyone definitely thinks you belong here now."
The secretary outside his office gave her a pitying look before pressing the intercom. "Sir, the intern is here."
"Send her in," came the deep reply.
Aria swallowed hard. She'd expected his voice to sound different in daylight, less… intense. Nope. Still the kind that vibrated in your bones.
The glass doors opened, and she stepped inside.
---
Damian Blackwood's office was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the town, the forest stretching beyond it like an endless sea of green. The furniture was sleek, dark, modern—like it had been stolen from a billionaire's Pinterest board. A subtle scent of cedarwood and something wilder clung to the air.
And behind the massive desk sat the man himself.
Damian looked up from his tablet, eyes locking onto hers with unnerving precision. His gaze was so sharp it felt like he could slice her open and read her thoughts like a file. He didn't say anything. Just watched her.
Aria shifted awkwardly, clutching her bag like a shield. "Uh… hi. Reporting for duty? Do interns salute or…?"
Silence.
Oh God, he's going to fire me for bad jokes. My whole career is over before it even begins. Mom's going to say, "I told you so," and I'll have to crawl back to Mel's and beg for my apron back.
Finally, he spoke. "Aria Sullivan."
The way he said her name made the hairs on her arms stand up. Not just recognition, but ownership, like he'd known it long before she ever told anyone here.
"Yep, that's me." She forced a grin. "Aria. Sullivan. Intern extraordinaire. Here to staple things and occasionally spill coffee. Please don't fire me, I bruise easily."
The corner of his mouth twitched—so brief she almost thought she imagined it.
"You were out late last night," he said.
Her stomach dropped. "I—I beg your pardon?"
"The road by the forest. Near the bridge." His tone was calm, but there was weight behind it. "You shouldn't walk alone there."
Her brain short-circuited. He knows. He actually knows.
Panic rose in her chest. Deny, deny, deny. "Um… you must be confusing me with someone else. Very common face. Average brunette. Could've been anybody screaming at midnight."
His eyes glinted, and for a split second she thought she saw them glow again, faint and amber. Her breath caught.
"Careful, Miss Sullivan," he said softly, his voice smooth as velvet but twice as dangerous. "Not every truth is safe to speak aloud."
Well, that wasn't ominous at all.
"Wow," she said, grasping for humor like a lifeline. "Creepiest motivational quote I've ever heard. Do you embroider that on pillows or just whisper it to interns you terrify?"
For the first time, a sound like a laugh rumbled in his chest. Deep, low, unfairly attractive.
"Tell me," he asked, leaning forward slightly, "are you always this reckless with your words?"
"Only when I'm nervous," she blurted. Then, realizing how that sounded, added, "Which is… all the time, really. Chronic condition. Very tragic."
Another silence stretched between them. But this time it wasn't empty—it was heavy, charged. His gaze held her so firmly she felt rooted to the spot.
Finally, he slid a folder across the desk. The movement was smooth, deliberate. "These are your first assignments. Review them. Discretion is mandatory."
Aria glanced at the folder like it might explode. "Discretion. Right. Totally my middle name. Well, technically it's Marie, but close enough."
To her shock, his lips curved into something dangerously close to a smirk. "You'll do."
Before she could process that, a knock sounded at the door. Ms. Daniels stepped in, clipboard in hand. "Sir, the board meeting—"
"Later," Damian cut in, his eyes never leaving Aria.
The way he dismissed her, so effortlessly, sent a shiver down her spine. Not because of what he said, but because it felt like she was the more important matter here.
"Dismissed," he added, finally leaning back.
Aria grabbed the folder like it was a shield and made for the door, trying to keep her legs from wobbling. She didn't breathe until she was outside the office.
---
She collapsed against the wall, clutching the folder to her chest. "Okay," she whispered, "day one, and you've already made the world's scariest CEO laugh. Or smirk. Or… twitch. Whatever that was. Congratulations, Aria. Survival level: beginner."
But her hands still tingled where she'd touched the folder. Her chest still ached from the weight of his stare.
And the scariest part?
She wasn't just terrified of Damian Blackwood.
She was curious.
---
The rest of the day blurred by in a haze of busywork and nervous glances at the glass office at the end of the hall. She tried to bury herself in filing, stapling, and nodding along when people threw jargon at her like she spoke fluent business. But every time she thought she'd settled down, she caught herself replaying his words.
"You were out late last night."
"Not every truth is safe to speak aloud."
"You'll do."
It was maddening. Infuriating. Also, way too hot for her own good.
By the time five o'clock rolled around, she wanted nothing more than to sprint home and collapse into bed. But as she stepped into the elevator, her phone buzzed.
Bestie: How's the job?
Aria: Boss is terrifying. May or may not be a supernatural forest cryptid.
Bestie: …what.
Aria: Long story. Bring wine.
She shoved her phone away and rubbed her temples. She couldn't tell anyone the truth. Not yet. Not until she figured out if she was actually losing her mind.
The elevator doors opened. She stepped out into the cool evening air. The forest loomed in the distance, shadows lengthening as the sun sank.
And even though she was nowhere near it, Aria swore she could feel eyes on her again.
Watching. Waiting.