Oliver's POV
"Number forty-two. Aurora Sterling."
My assistant's voice echoed in the hallway, and for the first time in my life, my heart did something it never did: it skipped a beat.
I stared at the file in front of me. It was her. The same girl who had haunted my thoughts for the past twenty-four hours. The girl who had looked at me with such pure, unadulterated hate that I'd felt it in my marrow.
Suddenly, I was anxious. I, the Alpha King, felt a prickle of nerves. I stood up abruptly and walked to the mirror in the corner of the office.
Yesterday, at the club, I had been a different man. To move through the city's shadows without being swarmed and noticed, I'd dyed my hair black. It was a simple trick—red hair like mine was rare, a feature of mine that people recognized instantly. I'd also worn piercing green contact lenses to mask my true gaze.
But today, the disguise was gone.
I ran a hand through my hair. The fiery red—so similar to hers—was back. I blinked, my eyes once again the deep shade of sea-blue I had been born with—the same shade as hers. I had scrubbed the dye away and tossed the lenses the moment I got home, never expecting that the girl from the club would be the one walking through my office doors.
"She won't know it's me," I told myself, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt to ensure my sleeves were down, hiding the tattoo that I knew she had noticed.
I took a breath, forced my features into a mask of coldness, and sat back down. I gestured for my assistant to bring her in.
When she walked in, the air in the room seemed to vanish.
She looked different in the daylight. She was wearing a professional blazer, her red hair tucked back, but that same fire was still there. I kept my head down, pretending to be deeply engrossed in her file, but my senses were dialed into her. I could smell her fear, her confusion, and that faint scent of wildflowers that had driven me insane the night before.
I felt her eyes on me. I knew she was staring, likely struck by the resemblance between the King before her and the man she'd encountered in the club.
I looked up, letting my scowl deepen to hide the fact that I wanted to reach across the desk and pull her to me. She was frozen, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Have you lost your manners, young lady?" I asked, my voice sounding annoyed. It was the King's voice—heavy with authority. "When you enter the presence of your King, you bow."
She stammered an apology, her voice trembling in a way that made my inner wolf stir with a strange protective urge. She dropped into a bow, and I let her stay there for a moment longer than necessary, just so I could study her without her knowing.
"Sit," I commanded curtly.
She scrambled into the chair, looking like she wanted to bolt. I picked up her resume, tapping my fingers against the desk.
"Aurora Sterling," I read, my voice flat. "Top of your class. A degree in management. And yet..." I leaned forward, letting my sea-blue eyes lock onto hers. "You have no work experience."
She swallowed hard. Looking stunned and confused, I could tell she hadn't yet recovered from the shock of how much I looked like the man she met.
I noticed how her eyes drifted to my wrist, but luckily the sleeve of my white shirt was long; there was no way she could see my tattoo.
"Hey... eyes up here," I ordered.
She jerked her gaze upward, her face flushing a deep crimson that made her sea-blue eyes pop. The resemblance between us was startling—if I didn't know better, I'd think I was looking into a mirror of my own soul.
"I... I apologize, Your Grace," she whispered, her hands trembling as she gripped her folder. "I was just... momentarily distracted."
"Distracted?" I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest. The movement made the fabric of my shirt tug, and I saw her eyes instantly dart back to my cuffs. She was hunting for that scorpion. She was looking for a reason to link the King to the man who had offered her half a million dollars. "I don't hire people who are easily distracted, Aurora. I need focus. I need someone who can handle the weight of my world without crumbling."
I watched her swallow hard, her throat bobbing. She was terrified, yet there was a spark of that same defiance I'd seen last night.
"I am focused," she insisted, her voice gaining a fraction of strength. "As for my experience... I've spent the last few years dealing with... private matters. But my academic record proves I am capable. I learn fast, and I work harder than anyone you've interviewed today."
I looked down at her file, though I wasn't reading a single word. My mind was back at the club, remembering the way she moved for me, the way her body felt against mine.
"Private matters," I echoed, my voice dropping into a whisper. "Like what?"
She swallowed hard. "It's personal, sir."
"Personal?" I growled, slamming the folder shut. I stood up and walked around the desk, stopping just inches from her chair. I leaned down, invading her personal space until I could smell the wildflowers on her skin. "If you want to be my assistant, then I need to know everything about you."
I reached out, my fingers hovering just inches from her chin. I wanted to touch her so badly it was a physical ache, but I didn't.
"Tell me," I murmured, my blue eyes searching hers. "What are the private matters?"
I watched her hesitate, her fingers digging into the leather of the folder. She bit her lip, a flicker of vulnerability crossing those sea-blue eyes that made my chest tighten. For a moment, she looked like she might bolt, but then she took a shaky breath and spoke.
"I... I have a lot of debt," she admitted, her voice so soft I had to strain to hear it. "Medical bills, mostly. I have to pay them off, so I do a lot of jobs at once. My 'private matters' are simply me trying to survive."
A jolt of worry surged through me, sharp and unexpected. Debt? How much could a girl like her possibly owe? And what kind of medical bills were draining her? My wolf, usually a creature of pure aggression and dominance, let out a low, concerned whine in the back of my mind. He wanted to scent her, to find the source of her pain and crush whatever was hurting her.
I forced my expression to remain a mask of stone. I couldn't let her see the crack in my armor. I was the Alpha King—cold, devoid of emotion, and legendary for my lack of mercy. I couldn't start showing concern for a bar girl now, no matter how much her scent called to me.
I walked back to my desk, the heavy thud of my boots the only sound in the room. I sat down, leaning back into the expensive leather of my chair, and watched her. She looked so small in that oversized chair, yet so incredibly brave.
"You'll get the job," I announced.
Her eyes widened, a spark of hope—and perhaps a little more fear—igniting in them. "Really?"
"But on one condition," I added calmly.