The next morning, I woke up earlier than my body wanted to. My phone alarm blared at 5:30, and I slammed it off like it had personally offended me. My body screamed for more sleep, but my head kept replaying Cole Maddox's voice from yesterday, low and smooth, telling me to "keep up."
And of course, my mission handler's words were there too, like a shadow in my skull: Stay close. Observe everything. Don't get emotionally involved.
Yeah, sure. Easy to say when you're not the one staring at a man who looks like every magazine's "most powerful CEO" cover comes to life.
By 7:15, I was dressed, hair straightened into some version of sleek professionalism, and heels on. The subway ride downtown was the usual blur of suits, iced coffee cups, and people scrolling on their phones like zombies. I spent most of it trying to remind myself that Cole Maddox wasn't just some boss. He was a target. A job. A paycheck.
Still, when I stepped into Maddox Innovations' building and saw my reflection in the massive glass doors, I had to pause. I looked… like her. Aurora James, assistant. Not Aurora James, intel agent, digging into the life of a man who might be destroying companies from the inside. That duality made my stomach twist.
The elevator ride up was quiet except for a couple of mid-level guys in polos whispering about some new prototype launch. I kept my face neutral, but my ears sharpened. Every detail mattered.
When the elevator doors opened onto the top floor, the first thing I noticed was Cole already at his desk. It was barely eight. He didn't look tired. He didn't look like he'd ever needed sleep in his life. Crisp suit, watch glinting under the lights, fingers flying over a laptop keyboard.
I swallowed, squared my shoulders, and walked in. "Good morning, Mr. Maddox."
He didn't look up. "You're late."
My chest tightened. I glanced at my phone. 8:02. "Technically, it's two minutes—"
"Late," he cut in, finally raising his head. His eyes were sharp, storm-gray and unreadable. But there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
I forced a polite smile. "I'll adjust my commute."
"Do that," he said simply, turning back to his screen.
God, this man.
I set my bag down and slid into my chair outside his office, exhaling slowly. First test of the day: survive Cole Maddox before coffee.
By mid-morning, my desk was covered in papers, half of which I didn't actually understand but pretended I did. Financial reports, patent filings, emails that needed "urgent" responses. Being an assistant here wasn't a desk decoration gig; it was a full-on battlefield.
I typed as fast as my fingers would allow, scheduling three investor calls and flagging documents for Cole to sign. Every time I peeked into his office, he was pacing, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and clipped. He didn't shout. He didn't need to. The air shifted when he was angry, like pressure before a storm.
Around noon, a shadow fell across my desk. I looked up—and nearly cursed out loud.
Seraphina Cross.
I'd seen her face in the dossier. Sleek blonde hair, crimson lipstick, a woman who walked into a room like she already owned it. She was every bit as sharp and stunning in person, wearing a white suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
"Oh," she said, tilting her head. "You must be the new one."
I stood quickly. "Aurora James. Mr. Maddox's assistant."
Her lips curved, but her eyes flicked over me like I was a piece of furniture she was appraising. "Hm. Fresh."
I opened my mouth to respond, but Cole's door swung open. He stepped out, his expression darkening the second he saw her. "Seraphina."
She smiled like she'd been waiting for him all morning. "Cole."
The air between them tightened instantly. Old history, sharp and unspoken, filled the space.
Cole's jaw ticked. "You don't belong here."
"I co-founded this company," she said smoothly, ignoring me completely now. "I'll always belong here."
I shifted uncomfortably, trapped between them. My training told me to observe, memorize, record every word. But my gut told me to disappear.
Cole's voice was like ice. "Get to the point."
Seraphina stepped closer, so close the scent of her perfume hit me from where I stood. "The point is—you're in over your head, and sooner or later, you'll need me again." Her eyes slid briefly toward me, a flicker of calculation. "Or maybe you already do."
My pulse spiked. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Cole's glare could have frozen fire. "Leave."
She arched a brow, then smiled sweetly, turning on her heels. As she brushed past me, she whispered low enough that only I could hear: "Be careful, darling. He burns everything he touches."
I froze, heart hammering. Then she was gone, heels clicking down the hallway like gunshots.
Cole stood rigid for a long moment, then turned toward me. His eyes met mine, hard. "Don't listen to her."
I nodded quickly, though my stomach was twisted in knots. "Of course."
But inside, my mind was already spinning. Seraphina Cross wasn't just a ghost from his past. She was a storm waiting to hit—and I was right in the middle of it.
The rest of the day felt like walking on shards of glass. Cole didn't mention Seraphina again, but the tension lingered in the room like smoke.
I found myself watching him more closely, the way his hands curled into fists when he thought no one was looking, the way his voice dropped lower than usual when he gave orders. He wasn't shaken, not exactly, but Seraphina had cracked something under the surface.
By the time five rolled around, my brain was fried. I shoved papers into a neat stack, telling myself I'd earned a quiet night with Netflix and cheap takeout.
But just as I was grabbing my bag, Cole's voice stopped me. "Aurora."
I froze, turned. He was standing in his doorway, jacket off now, sleeves rolled to his elbows. My stupid heart reacted like it had no sense of self-preservation.
"Yes?" I managed.
His gaze swept over me, unreadable. "Dinner."
I blinked. "Dinner?"
"With me," he clarified, like I was slow.
My throat went dry. "Uh… is this business-related?"
His lips twitched faintly, the ghost of a smirk. "If that makes it easier for you."
I stared at him, brain cells crashing into each other. This was dangerous. Stupid. The exact kind of complication my handler would scream at me about.
And yet, I heard myself say, "Alright. Dinner."
Because maybe part of me needed to know what Cole Maddox looked like when he wasn't behind glass walls and corporate armor.
Maybe part of me wanted to see what secrets he kept when the sun went down.