Chapter 1
I looked at the back of Tanya’s head, the HR representative taking me to my dedicated workplace, admiring the sight of impeccable, apparently freshly done cornrows, with tips color-matched to the woman’s business outfit. A deep aubergine blouse contrasted beautifully with the off-white blazer and pencil skirt.
I watched the numbers climb, surging with the sheer, delighted excitement that I had made it.
Me, among all the applicants, had gotten the job at Harcourt & Vale Publishing House.
And I was so ready for it.
The doors opened with a soft, tasteful ding, and Tanya grinned at me.
“Welcome to Covet, darling,” she murmured and stalked ahead.
Her killer heels clacked against the hyper-modern concrete floor, echoing loudly off walls framed with pictures of Covet authors and feature articles about the imprint itself. The decorations were loud, bold, and entirely fitting for Covet’s positioning inside a prestigious literary mother company like H&V.
Covet wasn’t just any imprint. It was the youngest label underneath the prestigious Harcourt & Vale umbrella. It was disruptive, edgy, shamelessly commercial, and catered to a growing reader appetite for explicit sex and violence inside genuinely intriguing stories.
Tons of imprints had jumped on the Dark Romance bandwagon—Covet understood what made a book outstanding versus just scandalous. I’d deep-dived Covet’s rise, and the sassy teenager among H&V’s respectable children had skyrocketed in less than two years.
Tanya gestured toward several of the doors, pointing out the restrooms, the break room, the co-working space, and several conference rooms, and I didn’t just nod but memorized each of them, already knowing I’d spend a lot of time maneuvering between these doors every day.
She stopped at a door in the middle of the corridor, which surprised me a bit. Apparently Dominic Hale—my new boss and Publishing Director at Covet—liked being right in the middle of things. Tanya didn’t knock; she let us right in, and even for a fresh, unconventional little imprint like Covet, that seemed a bit bold.
Especially considering Tanya was employed by H&V directly.
I understood why when she brushed past a deserted desk toward a second door, and there she actually stopped and knocked.
An impatient, deep voice answered.
“In.”
No pleasantries. The tiny syllable was spoken like a command, and the corner of my mouth lifted.
Yep.
Dominic Hale had a reputation.
He hated being photographed, his face didn’t show on the company’s website, he rarely attended social events, and he was absolutely brilliant. Dominic Hale understood market appetite like no other, managed to stay half a step ahead of trends, was able to manage ‘difficult’ authors like a diplomat, and was said to be a demanding tyrant toward his employees.
I was 100% ready to face him.
Who was I kidding?
I was absolutely dying to meet the man, finally.
Tanya opened the door and let us inside his office, and I was extremely glad she’d moved ahead.
My eyes blew wide at the sight awaiting me on the opposite side of the huge desk, and for a fraction of a second, I saw the same reaction on Publishing Director Hale’s face.
Utter shock.
But the next moment, a very satisfied smirk ghosted around his lips, and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to blush furiously right then and there.
Nic.
From Friday night.
I went out once—to celebrate the freedom from my old job and simultaneously the beginning of my time at Covet—and now faced my hook-up.
What were the fucking odds?
Nic’s—Mr Hale’s—eyes lingered on my face, and for several seconds they dropped to my lips, like he’d forgotten why we were here, then immediately snapped back up while Tanya cheerfully introduced us.
“Mr Hale, your new personal assistant, Miss Emma Avery. Emma—Dominic Hale. I know you made yourself acquainted with his position among Harcourt & Vale, and this is him in person!”
He extended his hand, and I politely accepted. His grip was firm, the warmth of his skin seeping into the back of my hand, and I could feel the tiny hairs on my neck stand at attention at the sensation, because I remembered exactly where that very hand had been around sixty hours ago.
But thank God my teenage days were long gone.
I returned the pressure of his hand against mine, our fingers gliding against each other when he let go, and I knew—I knew—it was deliberate.
There had been no need whatsoever to drag out the touch, but the gentle whisper of his skin against mine was enticing.
And I immediately shut it down, because I really wasn’t this kind of woman.
Hell no.
His voice rang out entirely composed, and my shoulders dropped a fraction.
Silly.
This man was a professional through and through. And we had not done anything wrong; he hadn’t been my boss that night, after all.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, listening to the drawl of the voice that had whispered deliciously filthy encouragements when I’d last heard it.
“Welcome aboard, Miss Avery.”
I took the opening and was content that my own voice betrayed nothing but the pleasant excitement of a woman ready to start a new, high-tier career opportunity.
“Thanks, Mr Hale,” I replied, and Tanya chimed in merrily.
“Great. My job here’s done, then.”
She shot me a bright smile.
“Would you care to check in with me for lunch, Emma? Let me in on your first impressions? Harcourt & Vale is very happy to welcome you as part of the family. We’d love to be sure your first day is going smoothly.”
Dominic stepped in smoothly.
“Miss Avery will be free at 12:30, Tanya. Twenty minutes. Onboarding will take up the majority of the day.”
Both shot me expectant glances, and I tipped my chin.
“Of course, Tanya.”
She lifted her hand in goodbye.
“Great, Emma. I’ll meet you at the elevator. See you,” she chirped, then nodded to Dominic. “Mr Hale…” she excused herself and withdrew from the office.
I kept my gaze carefully lifted, fixating on a point somewhere above his left shoulder.
The lock clicked when Tanya gently closed the door, and witnessing Dominic Hale’s mouth stretch into a delighted smile broke through every single defense I had conjured over the course of the last three minutes.
Unfortunately, my face had different ideas, and the heat stinging my cheeks told me the flush—like I was a damn teenager—had won.
