Chapter 5 Terms of Surrender
Aria
The HR manager’s nails dug into my arm as she hissed, “You are DONE here, Ms. Collins.”
“No,” I snapped, yanking back, every nerve firing. “I’m not leaving until I…”
A much larger hand landed over hers.
Not rough. Not violent.
But absolutely.
The HR manager froze. Her grip slackened instantly, like someone had unplugged her battery.
I turned and my heart nearly stopped.
Grayson Hart stood behind me.
A living monolith in charcoal and steel, his presence sucked all the air out of the hallway. Employees fell silent. Even the security guards straightened like schoolboys caught smoking behind the gym.
He didn’t look at me.
He was looking at the HR manager like she was gum stuck to his shoe.
“Remove your hand,” he said coldly.
“Mr. Hart. Sir I was only
…” she stammered.
His brows lifted a fraction. Deadly. Disbelieving. “Are you making physical contact with my former intern?”
“I…I didn’t…she was trying to
..”
“That wasn’t a question.”
The HR manager jerked her hand back as though it was burning. “My apologies, Mr. Hart.”
“Noted.” His voice dropped to arctic frost. “And unacceptable.”
I swallowed hard, my pulse skittering. He turned his head then, slowly, finally looking at me.
Something flickered behind his eyes.
Recognition. Annoyance. Heat. All tangled together.
Then, without warning, he slid his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his side.
My breath caught.
“What are you…?”
But he was already glaring at the onlookers, his voice carrying through the corridor with lethal precision.
“Ms. Jones is coming with me.”
A gasp rippled through the floor. Brielle’s jaw actually dropped. The guards exchanged looks.
Me? I just stood there like an idiot, pressed against six feet three inches of controlled danger.
He guided me. No, dragged.me toward his private elevator. Cameras tracked him like the sun.
The moment we stepped inside, the doors whispering shut, he released me like I’d scorched him.
He stepped back to the opposite wall.
And just like that, the CEO mask slid back into place.
Cold. Remote. Untouchable.
I hugged my arms around myself. “So…guessing the public display was for show?”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t even look at me.
The elevator rose smoothly, silently, like we were being lifted out of the mortal world. My stomach twisted, partly from altitude, partly from humiliation, partly from his stupidly intoxicating scent that clung to the enclosed space.
When the doors opened at the top floor, he stepped out without waiting.
I followed, my boots sinking into the thick carpet.
His office was… obscene.
Skyline sweeping across floor-to-ceiling windows. Steel. Black marble. A desk the size of a small yacht.
He strode behind it, picking up a tablet. “State your business.”
There it was.
No warmth. No memory of the car. No trace of the man who’d kissed me like he wanted to devour me.
Just the CEO speaking to an inconvenience.
I straightened my spine. “They fired me illegally.”
“Mm.”
“They fabricated evidence.”
“Doesn’t concern the CEO.”
“My grandmother’s medication is…”
“I don’t handle HR grievances.”
I blinked at him. “You own HR.”
“I own everything.” His tone never changed. “Delegation exists for a reason.”
My hands balled into fists. “Grayson, please..”
His eyes snapped up.
Warning. Ice. Distance.
I tried again anyway. “I am being cornered. Lied about. Used. I need my job back. Or at least my severance. I’m not asking for charity.”
“You are asking for involvement,” he corrected sharply. “In a matter that is beneath my office.”
It hit like a slap.
Beneath him.
Meaning: I was beneath him.
The humiliation lit a fire in my gut, anger, shame, and something desperate enough to override good judgment.
He lifted a hand toward the intercom on his desk.
I moved before I could think.
I stepped into his space and laid my hand over his.
He went still.
The air cracked.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
“Ms. Jones,” he said quietly, warningly, “move your hand.”
I didn’t.
Instead, I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze dead-on. “You can pretend all you want. Pretend none of it happened. Pretend you don’t feel anything.”
His jaw tensed.
“But I know what I saw. What I felt.”
His nostrils flared.
“I’m not stupid,” I whispered. “You’re attracted to me.”
The silence broke like glass.
One moment he was standing.
The next, his hands were on me.
He slammed me onto his desk, not hard, but with enough force to steal my breath. Papers scattered. A pen rolled to the floor.
His body hovered over mine, heat radiating through the air.
“Careful,” he growled.
Every nerve in me lit up. My wolf pressed forward, restless, intrigued by the alpha hovering close enough for his breath to brush my lips.
I swallowed, barely. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
His eyes dipped to my mouth.
I felt the shift, the same pull from the car, that gravitational force snapping between us like fate tightening a rope.
His hand slid to my thigh.
And suddenly.
He froze.
His expression shuttered completely.
He stepped back abruptly, as though my skin had burned him through his suit.
I sat up, confused, breathless, humiliated.
Then he said it.
“Because I don’t sleep with virgins.”
The words hit harder than any physical blow.
My ears rang.
My body went numb.
He leaned against the opposite side of the desk, arms crossed, as though bored with the entire situation.
“It complicates things,” he added coldly. “And I do not do complications.”
Blood roared in my ears.
Jess. That bastard. He had told them. Told all of them. About that night I’d trusted him. About everything.
My chest constricted so tightly I couldn’t breathe.
I swallowed, trying, failing to keep my voice steady. “So you know. About me. About… that. And you think it makes me… what? Inexperienced? Uninteresting?”
“Not uninteresting,” he said quietly, which somehow made it worse. “Just unsuitable.”
Humiliation scorched through me, hot and acidic.
I stood up too fast, nearly stumbling.
“No problem,” I said, my voice strangled. “I won’t complicate your life any further.”
“Aria…”
“No.” I backed away. “I get it. Truly.”
I didn’t.
I didn’t get any of it.
I just needed to get out.
I turned and fled.
The elevator doors slid shut in front of me, smudging my reflection into a distorted blur.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
My vision wouldn’t stop swimming.
Virgin. Unsuitable. Beneath him.
God.
God.
I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth to keep the sob from escaping.
The elevator dinged.
I marched out, head down, heart breaking and burning at the same time.
“Ms. Jones! Aria…wait!”
His assistant, a young woman with warm brown eyes and guilt written all over her face, hurried after me, breathless.
She extended an envelope. “Mr. Hart asked me to give you th
is.”
I stared at it like it was a bomb.
Then I took it.
She gave me a tiny, apologetic smile and retreated, heels clicking.
I opened the envelope with trembling fingers.
Inside was a blank check.
And a small folded note.
I unfolded it, my vision blurring again.
For your blouse.
Hope all is well, Aria.
Stay strong.
Grayson
The ground dropped out from beneath me.