Chapter 25 The Devil's office
Melissa’s POV
The lobby of the Titans Arena stole my breath.
Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the space with morning light. Championship banners hung from the vaulted ceiling. Glass cases displayed trophies that gleamed like captured stars. Everything was pristine, organized, and perfect.
Just like him.
My heels clicked against polished marble as I approached the reception desk. A woman looked up with a smile.
“Good morning. How can I help you?”
“I have a nine o’clock interview. Melissa Hayes.”
Her fingers danced across her keyboard. “Ah, yes. With Mr. Cross. Take the executive elevator to the top floor.”
The top floor. Of course it was the top floor.
I crossed to the elevator bank, and my portfolio bag suddenly felt heavier. I stared at my reflection from the well cleaned door. I wore a cream blouse,and black slacks, with my hair pulled back. I looked put together which was a complete lie.
The elevator climbed smoothly. Each floor that passed made my stomach flip harder. By the time it reached the top, I could barely breathe.
The doors opened to reveal an elegant reception area. A man in his thirties stood waiting, with a tablet in his hand, wearing a crisp suit that made him look very efficient.
“Melissa Hayes?” His smile was warm. “I’m Marcus Chen, Mr. Cross’s executive assistant. Welcome.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”
“I’m fine.” My voice came out steadier than I felt.
“Perfect.” He gestured down a hallway. “Right this way.”
I followed him past offices with glass walls. At the end of the hall stood a solid oak door with a brass nameplate: Gavin Cross, Owner & CEO.
Marcus knocked once. “Mr. Cross? Miss Hayes is here.”
“Send her in.”
His voice sounded and controlled and made every nerve in my body come alive.
Marcus opened the door, then stepped aside.
I walked in, and the door clicked shut behind me.
The office was massive. One entire wall was windows overlooking the city. The opposite wall displayed championship photographs and memorabilia arranged with precise spacing. But what dominated the room was the desk…a huge dark wood, which was perfectly organized, and not a single item out of place.
Behind it sat Gavin.
He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. His dark hair was styled perfectly. Those ice-blue eyes locked onto me the moment I entered, and the air between us charged instantly.
“Melissa.” He stood in one fluid motion. “Sit.”
Not please sit. Just sit.
I crossed to the chair facing his desk, my legs felt unsteady.I set my portfolio bag beside me and folded my hands in my lap to hide how they trembled.
Gavin settled back into his chair. I passed my credentials to him and held it for a moment.
Then he smirked.
That small curve of his lips sent heat straight through me.
He set the folder aside without opening it.
“Aren’t you going to look at it?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
His eyes met mine, that smirk deepening. “I don’t need to. I’m hiring you.”
My heart stuttered. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“You haven’t even looked at my portfolio. You don’t know if I’m qualified…”
“I know everything I need to know about you, Melissa.” He leaned back, his fingers steepled in front of him. “You’re talented. And you need this job.”
Heat flooded my face. “That’s not…”
“It’s the truth.” His voice was calm, matter-of-fact. “Six companies have rejected you in two weeks. You’re desperate. And I’m offering you exactly what you want.”
The bluntness of it stung. “So you’re taking advantage of my desperation?”
“I’m giving you an opportunity.” He stood, walking around the desk with deliberate slowness. “The position is PR and Media Coordinator. You’ll manage our social media presence, coordinate with photographers, handle press releases. It’s not entry-level. It’s a real position with real responsibility.”
He stopped in front of me. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
“Why?” I asked. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want you here.” His voice dropped lower. “Working for me. Where I can see you every day.”
My breath caught. “That’s not appropriate.”
“No, it’s not.” He reached out, his fingers catching a strand of hair that had escaped my bun. “But we’re long past appropriate, aren’t we, piccola tentatrice?”
The Italian rolled off his tongue like silk. Dark and smooth and making my skin flush hot.
“What does that mean?” My voice came out breathless.
“Little temptation.” His thumb brushed my jaw. “That’s what you are. My little temptation.”
“Gavin…” His name was barely a whisper.
“Say something in Italian for me,” I said before I could stop myself. “Something else.”
His eyes darkened. “Sei la mia rovina.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re my ruin.” His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair.
“We can’t…”
“I know.” But he didn’t move away. Didn’t let go. “You start Monday. Eight AM. Marcus will send the contract details this afternoon.”
“That’s it? Just like that?”
“Just like that.” His thumb traced my bottom lip. “Unless you have questions about the position?”
I should ask about salary. Benefits. Responsibilities. All the professional things I was supposed to care about.
But all I could focus on was the heat of his hand on my neck. The way his eyes burned into mine.
“No questions,” I managed.
“Good.” His other hand came up, fingers grazing down my throat, my collarbone, lower…
His thumb brushed over my nipple through the thin fabric of my blouse.
I gasped, my entire body going rigid.
He did it again, a deliberate flick that sent electricity straight through me. My nipple hardened instantly under his touch, and the knowing smirk that crossed his face made me want to die of embarrassment.
“Gavin…” My face was on fire.
“You should go.” His voice was rough.
I stood so fast I nearly knocked over the chair. Grabbed my portfolio bag with shaking hands.
“Monday,” he said as I reached the door. “Eight AM. Don’t be late.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and practically ran out of his office.
Marcus was at his desk in the reception area. He looked up with a professional smile that suggested he’d noticed absolutely nothing about my flushed face and labored breathing.
“All set?” he asked pleasantly.
“Yes. Thank you.” I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at anything except the elevator.
“Welcome to the team, Melissa. I’ll email you the contract details this afternoon.”
I made it to the elevator. Pressed the button with a trembling finger. The doors opened immediately…thank God…and I stepped inside.
The moment they closed, I sagged against the wall.
What had just happened?
He’d hired me without looking at my portfolio. Touched me in his office with his assistant right outside. Flicked my nipple like it was the most casual thing in the world while I sat there frozen.
And I’d let him.
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Sei perfetta in quella camicetta. Don’t wear anything else.
I stared at the screen. Pulled up Google Translate with shaking fingers.
You’re perfect in that blouse.
Heat flooded through me…equal parts anger and arousal.
I didn’t belong to anyone. Especially not my mother’s fiancé.
But my traitorous body didn’t seem to care about that distinction.
The elevator opened to the lobby. I stepped out into the bustling space, into the real world where this kind of thing didn’t happen.
Except it had.
And Monday, I’d come back.
To work for him. Under him. Pretending we were professional when we both knew better.
I shoved my phone in my bag and walked out into the morning sunlight.
Five days. I had five days to figure out how to survive working for Gavin Cross without completely losing my mind.
Or my mother’s trust.
Or whatever was left of my self-control.
God help me, I was going to need it.