Chapter 1 Kate's New Job

Look, I didn’t plan on kneeing my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend now—in the jewels, but he was absolutely asking for it. And, honestly? That knee might have been the best decision of my life.

Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t like jumping into bed five minutes after meeting a guy. The world’s gone sex-mad—TV, magazines, social media, you name it—and somehow, my outdated desire to be, you know, romanced has turned me into some relic from the past. So, when Greg Moorcroft decided that "no" meant "try harder," I knew it was time to let my knee do the talking.

I threw my drink (whiskey, which I hate) right into his face, and as he blinked through the Johnny Walker Blue Label, I delivered the knee. Now, at first, I was worried I’d missed. I thought, “Wow, are his family jewels made of titanium?” Then he made this pathetic gurgling noise and hit the floor like a sack of regret. I grabbed my coat and bag, jammed the keys in the door on my way out, and yelled, “Don’t mess with me, you turd!” before sprinting down the hallway like my life depended on it.

Anyway, that little scene landed me a new job—because, as fate would have it, Greg works right near my old one, and I had zero intention of bumping into him on the daily. Today is day one at my shiny new job, and I’m standing in front of the building—a skyscraper that screams "serious business." I inhale, trying to look like I belong, but my heels are echoing on the polished marble floor so loudly it’s like I’m tap-dancing. Security stares at me, and I put on my best "Yes, I’m supposed to be here" face, praying I don’t trip over my own feet.

I finally make it to the elevator and, naturally, check my reflection in the mirrored walls. I straighten my blouse, smooth my jacket, and take a couple of deep breaths. Then I remember I’ll be meeting my new boss, Darius Graves, who, according to G****e, is tall, dark, and annoyingly gorgeous. Focus, Kate. You’re off men, remember?

The elevator doors open onto an insanely fancy reception area—plush blue carpet, sofas that scream "too expensive to sit on," and artwork that I can only assume was stolen from a museum. Kellie, the receptionist who interviewed me, greets me with a warm smile. “Morning, Kate! Good to see you again. Here’s your pass. You can go straight in—Darius is expecting you. Remember where to go?”

“Yes, thanks, Kellie.” My nerves are kicking in again.

She grins. “Your office is next to his; your name’s on the door. Have a great first day!”

I give her a quick nod and head down the hallway, my pulse hammering as I approach his office. The double doors are open, and I catch a glimpse of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, though his desk is out of view. I duck into my new office, stash my bag in a drawer, and grab a notebook before heading to his door. Alright, Kate. Confidence. You kneed a guy in the balls last week; you can handle a boss.

“Come in.”

I step in, and… Oh. My. God. My new boss looks like a cross between James Bond and a Greek god. He’s sitting at this massive antique desk, forearms flexing as he types. It takes every ounce of self-control not to gasp. This is my boss? He finishes typing and stands up, extending a hand, and, wow, he’s over six feet, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that looks like it belongs in a shampoo ad. His blue eyes meet mine, and I feel a spark of electricity zip through me. Nope. Nope. I’m off men. I’m OFF MEN.

“Good morning, sir,” I manage, praying I don’t do something weird, like curtsy or drool.

“Good morning, Miss Bamford. Glad to have you here.” He glances at his gold watch. “Though a little earlier tomorrow, please. I’m usually here by six. Sometimes five.”

His voice is deep, smooth, and far too dangerous for a girl trying to swear off men. “I’m sure you’ll be here by seven tomorrow.”

“Y-yes, s-sir,” I stammer, cursing my traitorous voice. I was told eight, but now I’m just praying he can’t smell my nerves from across the desk.

Darius leans back, studying me like he’s trying to figure out if I’ll be able to keep up. Oh, fantastic. Is he mentally undressing me already?

“Everything alright?” he asks, his voice way too smooth for his own good.

I clear my throat. “Yes, of course, everything’s fine.”

His cologne—citrus with something darker—floats over, and I take a step back, trying not to inhale too deeply. For the love of all that’s holy, this man should come with a warning label. He quirks a little smile, and I get the distinct impression he’s very aware of the effect he has. Smug bastard.

“Alright, Miss Bamford, let’s get started,” he says, gesturing to the stack of papers on his desk.

As I dive into the documents, I realize that Darius Graves isn’t just a pretty face. He’s sharp, focused, and annoyingly good at his job. He doesn’t make small talk, but we fall into a decent rhythm, and I manage to avoid any disastrous first-day blunders. By eleven, we take a break, and I go make us both coffee in the office kitchen. Thankfully, he’s a black coffee kind of guy—none of that frothy nonsense.

Back at my desk, I close my eyes and do some deep breathing exercises, trying to shake off the nerves. I’m mid-breath when I hear him clear his throat. My eyes snap open, and I feel my face go red.

He’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, with an amused look. “I hope I haven’t worn you out already, Miss Bamford?”

I sit up, cursing my flaming cheeks. “No, sir. Just the usual stress of a first day.”

He cocks his head, a little smirk on his lips. “Are you saying I stress you out?”

“Certainly not.” It sounds a bit prim, which maybe isn’t a bad thing. Keep it professional, Kate.

We get back to work, and over the next couple of hours, I catch glimpses of his dry sense of humor and his dangerous charm. I hate to admit it, but I’m already a little smitten. Okay, maybe more than a little. But I remind myself this is a job, and the last thing I need is to start drooling over my boss.

At twelve-thirty, he checks his watch. “I have a lunch meeting, so if you could send those emails and manage my calendar, that’d be great. Take any messages and let them know I’ll get back to them later.” He grabs his bag. “There’s a sandwich shop down the street. Put your lunch on my tab.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll see you later.” I grab my jacket and head to the elevator, feeling like I just ran a marathon. First day down, and I only made a fool of myself, what, twice? Not bad.