Chapter 1
No Room for Compromise
The rhythmic tapping of expensive, Italian leather shoes echoed across the gleaming, polished floors of Frost Enterprises’ top floor. Each step carried the weight of authority; each stride measured to absolute precision—as if the very air knew not to get in his way.
Aiden Frost didn’t just walk. He owned the space. Employees barely breathed when he passed. Some straightened their backs so fast they might need a chiropractor. Others pretended to be extremely invested in their monitors—even the ones that were clearly turned off. One unfortunate intern, caught in the crossfire of Aiden’s presence, fumbled his coffee so violently that the cup went airborne.
The resulting splash of steaming caffeine was probably modern art now. Aiden didn’t react. He had bigger things to focus on. Like the stack of disappointments in the form of business proposals waiting on his desk. His private office, a fortress of dark mahogany, steel, and obscene wealth, was waiting for him. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, but Aiden never spared them a glance. They weren’t for admiration. They were just there. Like a decorative knife—pretty, but ultimately useless to him. With a controlled exhale, he sank into his high-backed leather chair, a throne of power and exhaustion, and began flipping through the latest stack of corporate nonsense. The silence in the room was immaculate. And then, like an unwelcome thunderstorm on a good hair day, Clair arrived.
The door swung open—without knocking, because of course, she never knocked. Clair Thompson, his one-woman army of defiance, strode in like she owned the place. Unlike the rest of his employees, who treated him like a vengeful deity, Clair looked at him like he was just a particularly difficult math problem.
“If you reject one more proposal without a valid reason, Mr. Frost,” she began, unimpressed and fueled entirely by caffeine and stubbornness, “I swear the investors will—”
“I don’t do ‘valid reasons,’ Clair.”
Aiden didn’t even look up. “I do efficiency. If they can’t present something worthwhile, they can take their half-baked PowerPoint presentations elsewhere.”
Clair sighed so loudly it probably registered on the Richter scale. “Sir,” she said, tone dangerously patient, “not every business deal is about ruthless perfection. Sometimes, compromises—”
His sharp blue eyes flicked up, and the temperature in the room dropped faster than a bad stock market decision. “I don’t compromise.” Somewhere in the city, thunder probably rumbled for dramatic effect. Clair, to her everlasting credit, did not burst into flames under his gaze. Instead, she tilted her head, tapping a finger against her clipboard like she was mentally filing this under ‘Yet Another Ridiculous Frost Moment.’ “Fine,” she muttered, adjusting her stance.
Then, with a sharp pointed finger, she delivered the real issue. “At least don’t be late for Ethan today. You promised.” Aiden exhaled slowly, the way a man does when he knows he’s losing a battle but refuses to admit it. He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up just slightly—a rare, fleeting imperfection. “I never break a promise to Ethan.” And that should have been the end of the conversation.
But Clair wasn’t done yet. She tapped a finger against her chin, her lips quirking up in mock amusement. “Huh. That’s funny,” she mused. “Because you breaking promises to investors? Totally normal. But the second it’s Ethan, suddenly, you have morals.”
Aiden’s gaze could have turned wine into vinegar, but Clair was already halfway to the door, practically glowing in her victory. “Oh, and don’t forget to eat something today!” she called over her shoulder. “You know, before the board meeting turns into your personal Hunger Games.” The door clicked shut behind her.
Aiden stared at it for a long moment. Then, for absolutely no reason at all, he grabbed his phone and ordered a sandwich. Not because Clair told him to. Obviously.
The Frost Collision
The afternoon sun was way too bright, shining down like it had a personal grudge against Aiden Frost and his very expensive three-piece suit. It was hot. Uncomfortably hot. Aiden adjusted his cufflinks, barely stopping himself from cursing the heat. He wasn’t used to standing around like this, doing nothing. Waiting. And in a school parking lot, of all places. With a quick glance at his Rolex, his frown deepened. One minute late. His jaw clenched. Then—
BAM.
Something slammed into his chest. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t soft either—like hitting something small but stubborn. For a second, Aiden almost—almost—stumbled. But before he could process what the hell just happened, his hands instinctively reached out, gripping whoever just ran into him. Warm skin. Soft, but with a firm grip. And then— A spark.
A sharp, weird little zap ran through his fingertips.
What. The. Hell. There wasn’t a thing in his life that indicated magic butterflies or movie style interactions…naahh He let go instantly, stepping back like he’d been burned. His face remained calm, but inside? Mild confusion and irritation. “What the hell you blind chunk of firn?!” a sharp voice snapped. Aiden finally looked up—and his gaze met hazel eyes.
Not brown. Not green. Something in between, shifting under the sunlight like they couldn’t decide what color they wanted to be.
His first thought? Annoying. His second? …Beautiful. Which annoyed him even more.
“You’re the one standing like a damn statue in the middle of the sidewalk,” the woman snapped, crossing her arms. Aiden narrowed his eyes. Excuse me? Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the unexpected human collision. But something about this woman’s tone—sharp, unbothered, totally unimpressed by him—made irritation curl in his chest.
“Maybe if people watched where they were going,” he said coolly, “instead of stomping around like wild animals, they wouldn’t run into others.” She gasped. Like, full dramatic movie scene gasp.
And then, instead of walking away like a normal person, she stepped closer. Too close. Like she was inspecting him. “Excuse me?” she asked, voice sharp like a knife wrapped in silk. “Do I look like a wild animal to you….you fancy walking brand advertisement?” she said, scanning her sharp eyes from top to bottom. Aiden’s gaze flicked down—not on purpose. Just a quick, automatic scan. Her lips—slightly parted, as if she was waiting for a fight.
The rise and fall of her chest as she took a deep, dramatic breath. The way she stood—stubborn, like she refused to back down. …Reckless. Annoying. Very annoying. “Like a reckless one,” he murmured. The woman’s eyes widened slightly. Like she hadn’t expected that. For half a second, Aiden thought, Hah. Got her. But then— She let out a scoff. A small, disbelieving laugh—like he was the dumbest man she’d ever met. - 13 - And just as she was about to completely destroy him with words— Laughter.
Aiden froze.
The woman froze.
Both of them turned at the same time. A few feet away, two kids—laughing their little heads off. Aiden blinked. The hell? One of them—Ethan—was practically bent over, trying to catch his breath from laughing too hard. Beside him, a little girl with pigtails and a mischievous grin clapped her hands.
“You two argue just like the couples on TV!” she giggled. …What. Aiden’s eye twitched.
The woman—whoever the hell she was—looked like she had just been compared to a bug. Before either of them could process this insult, the kids rushed forward.
Ethan, still grinning like a little devil, grabbed Aiden’s sleeve. “Uncle D! This is my best friend, Mia! She’s so cool, and she’s really good at—” Mia grabbed onto the woman’s arm, bouncing on her toes. “Eira! This is Ethan! He’s my favorite person in school! He’s so funny, and he—” Silence.
Aiden and the woman—Eira?—slowly turned back to each other. Like a slow-motion horror movie moment, realization settled in. Oh. No.
