“Wait—” But Clarice is already closing the door behind her, leaving me alone with the man who sounds far too much like someone I know.
Someone I never wanted to see again.
He turns around slowly, like he’s savoring the moment.
“Ethan,” I breathe, a wave of shock and anger washing over me like ice water, followed immediately by a heat that I refuse to acknowledge.
Five years have done absolutely nothing to diminish his looks, and I curse whatever cosmic joke this is. I had secretly hoped that if we ever met again, he would have grown warts and broken his nose at some point, but I’m deeply disappointed. If anything, he looks better—a little older, but his amber eyes are still as sharp and piercing as I remember, like they can see straight through to my soul. His dark hair is slicked back stylishly, and the only thing slightly different about him is the trim beard that frames his jaw. I hate that it adds to his physical appeal, hate that my treacherous body still responds to the sight of him. One look at him has my heart skipping a beat in a rhythm I’d forgotten.
But it’s followed immediately by a hollow pain, a scar that’s never healed in all these years, still raw and aching.
He studies me with those predatory eyes, taking in every detail like he’s cataloguing changes. “Natalie.”
The lingering silence stretches between us, and I can tell he’s waiting for a reaction. Well, I’ll be damned if I give him what he wants.
When I just stare at him, the corner of his lips twitch in that familiar almost-smile that used to make my knees weak. “You’re not even going to greet me? I thought we were closer than that.”
My voice is cool, fused with an indifference that takes every ounce of my strength to muster. “You called me to your office, Mr. Wilder. What can I help you with?”
Ethan tilts his head slightly, like he’s examining a particularly interesting specimen, before placing his hands in his pockets. The gesture draws my attention to his body, and I curse myself for noticing.
His jacket is hanging from the back of his chair, his grey waistcoat properly buttoned, revealing his trim figure that speaks of expensive gym memberships and personal trainers. He always cut a striking image even back then—tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of confidence that came from never being told no. Maybe that’s what attracted me to him in the first place. Or maybe it was because out of all the women he could have had, he chose me.
Of course, I know better now. He never wanted me—not really. I was just a means to an end. A part of me, despite the hurt and heartache, has always been viciously satisfied that he never got what he wanted from me. He bedded his ex-best friend’s younger sister and got nothing out of it. Aside from an unsatisfactory sexual experience, that is.
“The Head of Human Resources,” Ethan says casually, but there’s something predatory in his tone. “You have quite a reputation in the industry. Why this company?”
“Is this an interview, Sir?” I ask with a level tone. “Are you trying to assess whether or not to keep me on?”
“Sir?” Ethan repeats softly, and there’s something dangerous in the way he holds my gaze. Despite the fury bubbling within me like molten lava, I feel a jolt of unwanted attraction that makes me want to scream. He always had this effect on me, this ability to make me lose my carefully constructed control. I had hoped that five years and the callous way in which he used me would have knocked some sense into me. I guess my body doesn’t agree with my brain.
His eyes probe me like he’s trying to read my thoughts. “I’m curious as to why you were willing to work with a blatant womanizer. Braxton Thompson’s reputation is quite well-known in certain circles.”
“Ah.” The realization hits me like a slap, and my anger sharpens to a fine point. “You want to know if I slept my way to the top?”
I shift my weight to my other leg, my eyes flashing. “After an MBA and a Masters in Human Resources, I didn’t see the need to sleep my way anywhere. And I’ve become quite selective about my lovers. I don’t let just anybody into my bed anymore.”
The implication hangs in the air between us, and I watch as Ethan’s mouth sets in a hard line, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. “I see.”
“Is that all?” I ask sweetly, injecting just enough venom to make it clear I’m done with this conversation.
“No,” he replies shortly, his voice dropping to that tone I remember all too well. “Before leaving, Braxton gave me a list of employees he considered incompetent. Your name was on that list.”
I just stare at him, drawing on every acting class I never took to keep my composure. It’s taking every ounce of my self-control to keep my raging emotions in check in front of him.
Ethan walks over to his desk, picking up a file and retrieving a single paper from it, holding it out to me. His fingers brush mine as I take it, and I hate the way my skin tingles at thecontact. Reluctantly, I focus on the paper. Layla hadn’t been able to procure this list no matter who she contacted this morning, so it’s my first time seeing it. Fury twists within me as my eyes run over the names, hot and vicious.
They’re all women.
Every single name on this list belongs to a woman—women who had the audacity to tell Braxton Thompson no, women who chose professionalism over his advances.
I was wrong in thinking Braxton was just a coward. He deserves a special place in hell. On his way out, he made sure to target all the women who refused to spread their legs for him. Vindictive asshole doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Iris’s name is on the list, as well as my assistant’s. Mine, however, is at the very top, underlined twice, like he wanted to make sure it got special attention.
“How lovely,” I murmur, disgust dripping from my voice like acid before looking up at Ethan. “Am I to understand that you’re planning to fire everyone on this list?”
“You are the head of HR. You tell me.” His voice is deceptively casual. “Is everyone on this list incompetent?”
