The thumping bass of the club shook the floor beneath Lilly Rivera's designer heels. Neon lights painted her skin in streaks of violet and pink as she leaned over the bar, fingers curled around the stem of a martini glass. Her gold sequin dress clung to her like it was sewn into her skin a statement, as always.
She didn't come here for attention. But Lilly was used to getting it.
San Francisco was supposed to be a brief stop and another pop-up, another pitch meeting, another whirlwind of press and fabrics. But tonight, she let her business rest. Just for one night. She needed it. The music, the bodies, the anonymity of a new city. She needed to feel something that wasn't threaded through silk or stitched into deadlines.
She felt the stare before she saw her.
Across the bar, a woman in a sharp black suit stood with a drink in her hand and danger in her smile. Jet-black hair, cheekbones like a weapon, and eyes that burned straight through the flashing lights.
Lilly raised an eyebrow and smirked. Challenge accepted.
The woman walked over slowly, confidently, like she owned the floor.
"You don't look like you're from here," she said, voice low and husky.
"I could say the same," Lilly replied, swirling her drink. "You look like you belong on the cover of Forbes, not in a club."
The stranger grinned. "Depends on the night."
"Name?"
"Armani."
Lilly laughed. "You're kidding."
"I get that a lot. You?"
"Lilly."
"Not the Lilly Rivera?" Armani teased, narrowing her eyes. "The fashion designer who turned a swimwear line into a luxury empire before 30?"
Lilly tilted her head, intrigued. "You know my work?"
"I wear it."
They talked for twenty minutes like old lovers. Drinks turned into laughter. Laughter into heat. Heat into something much more dangerous.
They danced. Close. Closer. Their bodies a perfect rhythm, their hands learning each other like notes on a piano.
By 1 a.m., they were tangled in silk sheets at Lilly's penthouse suite. Their kisses were reckless, lips meeting with urgency and hunger, hands pulling away clothes as if time was an enemy. For a night, nothing else mattered. Not last names. Not titles. Just want. Need. Fire.
When Armani slipped away at dawn, leaving only a faint scent of her perfume behind, Lilly told herself that was it.
No strings. No regrets.
She had a brand to build. A world to dominate. And Armani was just a beautiful detour.
Until three days later back in Miami, when her assistant knocked on her office door.
"Your final candidate's here for the associate manager position."
"Send her in."
Lilly glanced down at her notes, bored already. She wasn't expecting a surprise.
Then the door opened and time froze.
Armani walked in.
Same suit. Same confidence. Same dark eyes that had been on her skin, in her bed, under her breath.
They both stared in silent shock.
Lilly blinked first.
"Armani... Sloan?" she said, voice steady but her stomach in knots.
Armani cleared her throat, her jaw slightly clenched. "Yes... Ms. Rivera."
Boss.
She just called her boss.
Lilly stood slowly. Their eyes met—and the room burned with everything unspoken.
This wasn't over. It had just begun.
Power Lines
The silence stretched for a heartbeat too long.
Armani stood tall, her usual composure intact, but her eyes were those fierce, calculating eyes that flickered. Her confidence was still there, tucked behind a perfectly practiced poker face, but the air between them had changed. It wasn't flirtation now. It was friction.
Lilly, still behind her sleek glass desk, shut the folder in front of her with quiet finality.
She hadn't imagined ever seeing Armani again in life especially not here, in her Miami office, applying for a job underneath her command. And yet, here she stood.
"How funny," Lilly said with a cool smile. "You didn't mention during our... meeting that you were applying here."
"I didn't know you were the CEO," Armani said, her voice tight but not unfriendly. "The company name wasn't attached to your personal brand. My contact was HR."
Lilly nodded slowly. "Of course."
Silence again.
Armani shifted just slightly, not nervously—but cautiously. Like someone stepping into a room where the floor might collapse.
"I take it this won't be a traditional interview," Armani finally said.
Lilly stood and walked around the desk, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She leaned on the edge, arms crossed, gaze narrowed.
"You're qualified," she said, voice lower now. "Your resume is strong. But I have to ask you if we hadn't... met, would you still want this job?"
"I didn't come here to flirt," Armani replied, steady. "I came here because I've spent five years managing chaos under mediocre leadership. I want to work under someone who actually builds things wifh someone who doesn't follow trends but creates them."
Lilly tilted her head, impressed despite herself.
Armani's lips twitched into a hint of a smile. "And yes. That someone just happened to be the same woman I kissed senseless in a San Francisco penthouse suite."
Heat flared behind Lilly's eyes at the memory.
She hated how vivid it still was. How she remembered the exact way Armani's fingertips dragged down her spine. How she said her name like a secret she wanted to keep forever.
Lilly exhaled sharply and looked away.
"I have strict no-fraternization policies," she said.
"I assumed," Armani replied. "That's why I wasn't going to say anything."
Lilly glanced at her again. "And now that I know?"
Armani's voice softened. "That's your call."
There was something underneath her calm demeanor. Not desperation but curiosity. A spark of wonder. As if she was standing at the edge of something and waiting to see whether she'd be pushed or pulled in.
Lilly stood fully upright. The decision sat heavy on her shoulders.
Hiring Armani meant inviting distraction. Complication. Tension.
But not hiring her would feel like fear. Like running.
And Lilly Rivera didn't run.
"You'll start Monday," Lilly said simply, walking back to her desk.
Armani blinked, caught off guard. "Seriously?"
Lilly didn't look up. "Don't expect special treatment."
"I wouldn't."
"And don't expect a repeat of San Francisco."
Armani's voice dropped, velvet smooth. "That depends on you, Ms. Rivera."
The door clicked shut a moment later, leaving Lilly alone in her office.
She stood there for a long minute, staring out the window at the Miami skyline.
She had just hired the woman who lit her skin on fire in the sheets of my bed, and was now one conference room away from daily temptation.
What the hell had she just done?
Absolutely! Here's Chapter 2 of Tangled Threads, building on the sizzling tension and emotional complexity between Lilly and Armani. This chapter dives into their first day working together and sets the stage for deeper conflict, attraction, and secrets to unfold.
Close Quarters
Monday morning came too fast.
Armani stood outside the towering Rivera Studio headquarters in the heart of Miami's Design District, the rising sun casting a golden hue on the sleek glass building. Her pulse was steady, but her stomach swirled with something new.
It wasn't nerves.
It was her.
Lilly.
She wasn't just Armani's boss. She was the woman she had seen in silk sheets and smoky shadows. And now Armani had to face her in tailored slacks, with HR watching.
Straightening her black blazer, Armani stepped through the glass doors, every inch of her posture composed.
The lobby smelled like expensive candles and ambition. Marble floors gleamed beneath her heels. Staff bustled around, sharp and stylish, voices clippeand purposeful. Armani was no stranger to high-end offices attire, but this one hummed with an energy she couldn't quite explain.
Maybe it was the woman at the top.
"Armani Sloan?" a perky voice chimed from the front desk. "You're all set! HR will walk you through orientation and then Ms. Rivera will meet with you personally."
Of course she will.
Armani gave a polite nod and followed the young assistant down a hallway filled with fashion campaign posters and models dressed in bold, striking designs that could only belong to Lilly Rivera. Everything here had her fingerprint on it. Everything.
Twenty minutes later…
Orientation ended, Armani had her badge clipped to her lapel, and a company-issued iPad in hand. Then came the message from Lilly's executive assistant:
> Ms. Rivera would like to see you now. 12th floor.
Executive suite.
Armani took the elevator up. Her reflection in the mirrored wall stared back at her—calm, unreadable. Her mind, however, was not.
The door to Lilly's office was slightly open when she arrived. Armani knocked once before stepping inside.
The room smelled faintly of vanilla, coffee, and something sharper. Confidence.
Lilly stood by the window, arms crossed over her chest, phone pressed to her ear. She wore an ivory blouse tucked into high-waisted black slacks, her hair pinned up with a few stubborn curls falling around her cheekbones.
She didn't glance back. Just gestured for Armani to sit.
Armani did, slowly.
A few moments passed. Then Lilly hung up and turned around.
Their eyes met and it was there again.
That electric undercurrent. That invisible string tying them together, taut with tension.
"You're early," Lilly said coolly.
"I'm always early."
"Good. I don't like surprises."
Armani smirked. "Didn't seem like you minded surprises in San Francisco."
Lilly's jaw twitched barely.
"Let's get one thing straight," she said, walking toward her desk. "What happened that night stays outside these walls. No distractions. No games."
"No problem," Armani replied, her tone measured. "But just so we're clear… I didn't come here to chase you. I came to work."
Lilly sat, studying her. "I know."
A beat passed.
"Your first assignment is in Brand Development," she continued. "You'll be shadowing our head of campaign strategy for the next two weeks. If you prove yourself, I'll assign you directly to one of my product launches."
"Sounds fair."
"You'll be in meetings with me. Presentations. Travel, if necessary."
"And you're not worried that might… complicate things?"
Lilly's lips curled into a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"I don't get complicated, Armani. I get results."
"Then we'll get along just fine."
Their eyes locked.
For a full five seconds, the world outside that office disappeared.
Then Lilly looked down at her tablet, business as usual. "That's all."
Armani stood. Paused. "For what it's worth… I think you're more than just results."
She turned and walked out without another word, the door clicking shut behind her.
Lilly exhaled slowly, fingers brushing her lower lip.
She hated how that woman always got the last word.
Later that week...
By Thursday, the entire office buzzed with curiosity about the new hire. Armani had already made an impression on the sharp, smart, unshakable. She asked questions no one else dared. She stayed late. She carried herself like someone who belonged, even when others whispered that she was "too confident."
Lilly noticed.
She noticed the way Armani stood at the edge of the conference table, taking notes like she was already two steps ahead of everyone else.
She noticed how her laugh only came out when she forgot to be guarded, and how it made Lilly's chest tighten.
But she kept her distance. She had to.
Until Friday.
Friday night, after everyone had gone home, Lilly was still in her office, working on sketches for a new collection. She was wearing reading glasses, her heels kicked off beneath the desk, a half-empty espresso beside her.
A soft knock came at the door.
She looked up. "Come in."
Armani stepped inside, a folder in hand. "Didn't want to leave without turning this in."
She placed it on the desk.
Their fingers brushed.
They both froze.
Something between them sparked again.
"You work late," Armani said softly.
"So do you."
"I don't sleep much."
Lilly met her gaze. "Why?"
"Too many thoughts. Too many… distractions."
Lilly swallowed hard. "This is a bad idea."
"I didn't suggest anything."
"But you were about to."
Armani stepped back, but her eyes stayed locked on Lilly's. "Then stop me."
Lilly didn't move. Didn't speak.
Because she didn't want to.