Aria Bennett had always believed that powerful men carried a certain temperature with them.
Not warmth.
Not exactly cold.
But something controlled. Measured. Like they had already calculated every outcome before stepping into a room.
When she first walked into the glass tower of Vale Industries, she told herself she wouldn't be intimidated.
It was just a six-month contract position. Administrative executive support. Good pay. Good reference. Temporary.
Temporary was safe.
The lobby alone felt like a statement — marble floors polished to a mirror shine, muted gold accents, quiet conversations spoken in low, deliberate tones. Even the air smelled expensive.
Aria adjusted the strap of her bag and approached the front desk.
"Aria Bennett," she said softly. "I'm here for onboarding."
The receptionist's expression shifted almost instantly — polite to alert.
"Of course, Ms. Bennett. The CEO requested that you be sent directly upstairs."
Requested.
Her stomach tightened.
The CEO of a billion-dollar corporation didn't request to meet temporary staff.
The elevator ride to the top floor was silent, smooth, and far too quick.
When the doors opened, the temperature changed.
The top floor wasn't busy like the rest of the building. It was quiet. Private.
Intentional.
A tall man in a charcoal suit waited near the glass doors of the corner office.
"Ms. Bennett," he greeted, voice calm. "Mr. Vale will see you now."
Mr. Vale.
Dominic Vale.
She'd seen photos. Business magazines. Finance interviews. Headlines about government infrastructure deals and international contracts.
He was younger than most CEOs.
More dangerous looking too.
The assistant opened the door.
And there he was.
Dominic Vale stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline. Sunlight cut across his tailored black suit, sharp jawline, and composed expression.
He didn't smile.
He studied her.
Slowly.
Not inappropriate.
But thorough.
"Ms. Bennett," he said finally, voice low and controlled. "You're early."
"I like to be prepared," she replied gently.
One corner of his mouth almost moved.
Almost.
He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. She sat, folding her hands in her lap to hide the faint tremor in her fingers.
He didn't sit immediately.
He walked around her first.
Not touching.
Just observing.
"You worked at Carter & Blythe Consulting," he said.
"Yes."
"You left."
"It was a contract."
"You don't stay long anywhere."
It wasn't a question.
Aria swallowed lightly. "I go where I'm needed."
His eyes flickered at that.
Needed.
Interesting word choice.
He finally sat across from her.
Up close, he was even more composed than she expected. No wasted movements. No nervous ticks. Just presence.
"You understand this role requires discretion."
"Yes."
"You will hear conversations not meant for public ears."
"I won't repeat them."
He leaned back slightly, studying her again.
"Loyalty," he said quietly, "is very expensive in my world."
"I'm not for sale," she answered before she could stop herself.
Silence.
The air shifted.
Something passed between them — not anger.
Interest.
His gaze lowered briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes.
"Everyone is for sale, Ms. Bennett."
She held his stare — gently, not challengingly.
"Then I suppose I'm overpriced."
That did it.
A small, dangerous smile touched his lips.
The first crack in the ice.
"You start immediately," he said.
Just like that.
No HR.
No orientation.
Just him.
As she stood to leave, he spoke again.
"One more thing."
She paused at the door.
"You will not involve yourself in personal matters."
She turned slowly.
"I wasn't planning to."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Good."
She left the office with her heart beating louder than it should have been.
She didn't know yet that she had just stepped into something far from temporary.
She didn't know about the Whitmore alliance.
About the pending political merger.
About the engagement that would soon be announced on every news channel.
And she definitely didn't know that the man who believed everyone had a price would one day kneel in front of her… begging her not to leave.
But for now—
It was just a job.
And Dominic Vale did not mix business with pleasure.
Or so he thought.