Part 3 –
Lila didn't move.
She stood in the middle of Ethan Wolfe's office like a statue, clutching a half-crumpled tissue, heart pounding like a bass drum in her chest.
Let's see if you're still standing here when I get back.
What kind of test was that? Some alpha-male power play? Or maybe… maybe he was just seeing if she would crack.
Because that's what this place did—it tested people. Pushed them to the edge just to see who could survive the fall.
She took a breath and wiped the tiny coffee droplets from the corner of the glass desk, then straightened the tablet. Everything in here was clean, cold, precise. Even the skyline looked somehow sharper from his floor.
Don't break. Don't fold. You're not here to play games, she reminded herself.
But her nerves were betraying her. Her hand still tingled where it had brushed his desk. Her mind kept replaying the sound of his laugh—deep and unexpected. Like thunder rumbling through snow.
The private door opened behind her. She turned.
Ethan Wolfe stepped back into the office, now wearing a fresh navy shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, collar open just enough to hint at the hard lines beneath. He wasn't movie-star handsome in a polished way. No, he was dangerously magnetic—sharp cheekbones, intense eyes, a mouth made for control.
And right now, all that intensity was aimed at her.
"You stayed," he said, as if mildly surprised.
Lila forced herself to nod. "You said to."
He tilted his head slightly. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"
She hesitated. "Should I be?"
Another flicker of a smile. That dangerous, infuriating half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Most people are. Or they pretend not to be."
"I don't have time to pretend," she said, surprising herself with her own boldness.
Something changed in his expression. Just a flicker of curiosity, maybe even... respect?
"Tell me, Miss Monroe," he said, circling back to his desk, "what made you apply for this job?"
"The paycheck," she said honestly, then added with a small smile, "And maybe because I like a challenge."
"A challenge?"
"Yes. I heard your events team has a reputation for chewing up planners and spitting them out."
"Because they're weak," he said without flinching.
She crossed her arms. "Or maybe they weren't listened to."
He met her eyes for a long beat. "Are you expecting to be listened to?"
"No," she said, "but I expect to be heard."
Silence stretched. Not awkward—but loaded.
Then he reached for the tablet again. "The gala concept is good. But you should push it further."
Lila blinked. "Further?"
He stood, walked over to the window, and gestured at the city below. "This is Wolfe Enterprises. We don't imitate luxury. We create it."
"So... bigger?" she asked.
"No. Smarter. More exclusive. More Wolfe."
He turned back to her.
"Can you do that?"
Lila held his gaze, chin lifting. "Yes."
He studied her for a moment, eyes sharp like he was measuring her worth with each passing second.
Finally, he nodded. "Then prove it."
Just like that, her heartbeat kicked up again.
Prove it.
He didn't offer help. Didn't offer time. Just a challenge, as if he wanted to see if she'd crack.
But instead of backing down, Lila felt something spark inside her—defiance, drive, and a strange thrill she hadn't felt in a long time.
"I will," she said softly, then turned to leave.
She reached the door, then hesitated.
"I'll need access to the venue and budget outlines."
"You'll have them by the end of the day," he said.
She nodded, then stepped out into the hallway, the heavy door clicking shut behind her.
It wasn't until the elevator doors slid closed that she let herself breathe.
What the hell had just happened?
Ethan Wolfe wasn't just cold and intimidating—he was captivating. Intense. The kind of man who could destroy you with a look and make you crave his approval all in the same breath.
And worst of all…
Lila wasn't entirely sure she hated the way it felt.