"I thought the office was empty when I kissed my billionaire boss’s poster—until his real voice whispered from behind me. "

At 6:30 p.m., Nora found herself sitting inside the cabin of an eighteen-passenger Gulfstream G650, rolling slowly down a private tarmac at John F. Kennedy International Airport.

She had never been on a private jet in her life.

The interior looked like a five-star hotel suite carved out of cream leather, polished mahogany, and brushed chrome. Soft, warm ambient light illuminated wide, plush captain’s chairs, a private dining table, and a galley where a flight attendant in a crisp black uniform was currently preparing fresh espresso.

Nora sat near the window, her hands folded neatly in her lap, trying very hard to look like a woman who regularly flew across the Atlantic on two hours' notice.

Adrian sat across from her on the opposite side of the aisle, his laptop open, his wireless earpiece back in place as he reviewed international market opens.

When the jet accelerated down the runway and lifted smoothly into the night sky over New York, Nora couldn't help but look out the window, watching the glittering grid of the city shrink into a constellation of tiny lights below.

"Nervous?"

Adrian’s voice cut through the hum of the jet engines. He had closed his laptop and was watching her with a quiet, observant expression.

"No," Nora lied smoothly, turning back to face him. "Just calculating the carbon footprint of flying to Europe for a breakfast meeting."

Adrian let out a low laugh. "We’re flying to Europe to save six hundred million dollars, Miss Bennett. The carbon offset has already been purchased."

The flight attendant approached, setting a delicate porcelain cup of espresso on the small table beside Nora, along with a glass of sparkling water.

"Thank you," Nora said politely.

As the attendant retreated toward the front of the cabin, Adrian unbuckled his seatbelt, stood up, and moved to the leather chair directly across the small table from her.

The proximity was alarming.

In the tight, quiet luxury of the plane cabin, his presence felt twice as potent as it did in his vast office. The faint, intoxicating scent of his cedarwood cologne drifted across the table, completely derailing Nora’s train of thought.

"Tell me about yourself, Nora," Adrian said quietly, leaning back against the cream leather.

Nora took a small sip of her espresso, using the moment to gather her thoughts. "My resume is in my HR file, Mr. Blackwell."

"I’ve read your HR file," Adrian replied smoothly. "Finance degree from Columbia, graduated top five percent, worked at a mid-tier accounting firm for two years before Blackwell Meridian recruited you. Boring facts."

He rested his chin on his thumb, his dark eyes fixing on her face with intense curiosity.

"I want to know why a woman with your intelligence spent six months hiding on the nineteenth floor letting Arthur Reynolds take credit for her work."

Nora looked down at her coffee cup, her fingers tracing the rim.

"My father was a small business owner," she said quietly after a pause. "He ran an auto repair shop in New Jersey. He was brilliant with engines, but he didn't understand corporate contracts. Ten years ago, a regional development firm used a hidden clause in a lease agreement to force him out of his own building. He lost everything."

She looked back up at Adrian, her eyes clear and uncompromising.

"I decided back then that I was going to learn how corporate money works," she continued. "I learned how to read every line, every footnote, every hidden clause. I stayed on the nineteenth floor because I wanted to make sure my work was bulletproof before I stepped into the light."

Adrian listened in complete silence. The cold, analytical mask he usually wore had softened completely, replaced by a deep, profound respect.

"Your father raised a very smart daughter," Adrian said softly.

"He tried," Nora smiled faintly. "Though I don't think he would approve of my late-night habit of talking to wall decor."

Adrian’s lips twitched upward into a genuine, warm smile that sent a sudden surge of heat straight to Nora’s chest.

"I don't know," Adrian murmured, leaning slightly closer across the table. "I personally found that habit rather remarkable."

Nora felt her cheeks warm up again, but this time she didn't look away. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never," Adrian said smoothly. "It’s the most interesting thing that’s happened in my office in five years."

He reached out, his long fingers picking up a tablet from the table and sliding it toward her.

"Now, Miss Bennett," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a low, businesslike rhythm, though his eyes remained locked onto hers. "Let’s review the negotiation strategy for tomorrow morning. I want you to be the one who delivers the footnote seventeen analysis to Lord Vanguard."