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The champagne flute in Lucian Moretti’s hand didn't tremble. Not a drop spilled over the crystal rim as he steered Selena past the low murmur of the financial elite, his thumb resting feather-light against the back of her wrist—just enough to anchor her, just enough to signal to every predatory eye in the room that she was currently classified under off-limits. / Chapter 5 / 20

Chapter 5 - The Rules of EngagementThe penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park was dark except for the amber glow of the city lights reflecting off the floor-to-ceiling glass walls.

Selena stood by the window, holding a glass of scotch that Lucian had poured her. The burn of it was fierce, settling in her chest like liquid fire. Behind her, she heard the soft click of his footsteps on the hardwood floor as he walked up behind her.

"You enjoyed that," Lucian observed quietly, stopping just an inch away from her back.

"I enjoyed the math," she corrected, taking another small sip. "The math doesn't lie. It doesn't gaslight you, and it doesn't tell you your ambitions are a charming hobby."

"Good." Lucian’s hand came up, his fingers gently tracing the bare skin of her shoulder, sliding up to cup the back of her neck. His thumb brushed her jawline, turning her face toward his. "Because the math says we have a problem."

Selena’s heart did a strange, dangerous flip against her ribs. "What problem?"

"You're not an executive secretary anymore, Selena," Lucian said, his dark eyes burning into hers with an intensity that made the city lights outside blur into insignificance. "You just dismantled a multi-million-dollar fraud ring in four hours. My firm needs a Chief Risk Officer. Someone ruthless, brilliant, and entirely unimpressed by men in expensive suits."

She stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. The corporate world she had known—the glass ceilings, the condescending pats on the head, the endless hours spent cleaning up other people's messes while remaining invisible—was dead. Buried under six million in frozen assets and a federal audit.

"Are you offering me a job, Mr. Moretti?" she asked, a slow, dangerous smile finally breaking through the ice of her expression.

"I'm offering you an empire," Lucian murmured, leaning down until his lips hovered a fraction of an inch from hers. "Provided you can handle the hours."

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Selena didn't hesitate. She reached up, gripped the lapels of his dark suit jacket, and pulled him down the rest of the way.

"I've worked for worse bosses," she whispered against his lips, before kissing him with all the suppressed fury and burning ambition she had spent six years keeping locked in a dry-cleaning bag.

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