The woman beneath me doesn't know she's about to ruin my life. Her nails rake down my back as I press her against the hotel room wall, both of us gasping, desperate. I don't even know her last name. Met her two hours ago at the hotel bar. She had this look in her eyes—dangerous, wild, like she was running from something. I liked it. "Don't stop," she whispers, her voice breaking. I have no intention of stopping. We collapse onto the bed afterward, sweaty and breathless. The city lights from the window cast shadows across her face. She's beautiful in a terrifying way—sharp cheekbones, dark hair spread across the pillow, eyes that seem to see right through me. "I'm Victoria," she finally says. "Jake." She traces a finger down my chest. "What do you do, Jake?" "I'm an architect. You?" Something flickers across her face. "Business." That's all she says. We don't talk much after that. We don't need to. This isn't about conversation. This is about two people trying to forget whatever demons are chasing them. By morning, she's gone. No note. No number. Just the faint smell of her perfume on the sheets. I should feel relieved. One-night stands are supposed to be simple—no strings, no complications. But something about her lingers. The way she looked at me right before she left, like she wanted to say something but couldn't. I shake it off. I have bigger problems. Today's the day I find out if I still have a job. --- Morrison & Associates has been my home for five years. I've poured everything into this firm—late nights, weekend drafts, projects that made my eyes blur from staring at blueprints. But three weeks ago, we got bought out by some massive corporation. Chen Industries. Nobody knows what that means for us yet. I walk into the office at eight sharp. The energy is wrong—people whispering in clusters, nobody working. My best friend Marcus grabs my arm the second I'm through the door. "Dude, where were you? I've been calling all morning." "Phone died. What's going on?" His face is pale. "The new CEO is here. She's been in meetings since seven. Already fired Thompson and his entire team." My stomach drops. Thompson was our lead designer. If she fired him— "Everyone's supposed to gather in the main conference room at nine," Marcus continues. "Jake, man, I think we're screwed." I've survived three economic downturns and two company restructures. I can survive this. But when I walk into that conference room at 8:55, my confidence shatters. Because standing at the head of the table, wearing a black power suit and an expression that could freeze hell, is Victoria. My Victoria from last night. Except she's not my Victoria. She's Victoria Chen. The CEO. The woman who now owns my entire professional existence. Our eyes meet across the room. For one heartbeat, I see recognition flash across her face. Then it's gone, replaced by ice. "Good morning," she says, her voice crisp and professional. Nothing like the breathy whispers from last night. "I'm Victoria Chen, your new CEO. I believe in efficiency and excellence. What I don't believe in is wasted potential or mediocrity." She clicks a remote. A presentation appears on the screen behind her. "I've reviewed everyone's portfolios. Some of you have impressed me. Others..." Her gaze lands on me for a fraction of a second. "Others have disappointed me greatly." My chest tightens. She continues, "I'll be conducting individual meetings this week to determine who stays and who goes. But I want to be clear—this company will be restructured completely. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem." The room is silent except for the hum of the air conditioning. "That's all. You'll receive meeting notifications by end of day." People file out slowly, shell-shocked. I stay frozen in my seat. Victoria gathers her materials, not looking at me. But I know she knows I'm here. I can feel the tension radiating between us like an electric current. Finally, the room empties. It's just us. "Victoria—" "Mr. Morrison," she cuts me off, her voice sharp. "I don't know what you think is about to happen, but let me be clear. Last night was a mistake. A lapse in judgment that will never be repeated." "You knew," I say slowly, the realization hitting me. "At the bar. You knew who I was." Her jaw tightens. "No. I knew you worked here. I didn't know you specifically. But I should have left the moment you told me you were an architect." "So what now?" She finally looks at me directly. Those same eyes that looked at me with raw desire twelve hours ago now look at me like I'm a problem to be solved. "Now? Now you go back to your desk and wait for your termination notice. Because after reviewing your file this morning, I've decided you're exactly the kind of dead weight this company doesn't need." The words hit like a physical blow. "Dead weight? I've won three design awards in the last two years. My projects generate forty percent of this firm's revenue—" "Your projects are safe. Predictable. Boring." She steps closer, and I catch a whiff of that same perfume. "You play it safe, Jake. In your work, in your life. Last night was probably the most interesting thing you've done in years." Anger flares hot in my chest. "You don't know anything about me." "I know enough." She turns away. "You'll have your meeting tomorrow at ten. I suggest you prepare a defense for why I shouldn't fire you." "This is because of last night." "This is because you're not good enough." She pauses at the door. "Last night has nothing to do with it. In fact, last night never happened. Do we understand each other?" I want to argue. Want to tell her she's wrong about everything. But I just nod. She leaves without another word. I sit there in the empty conference room, my career hanging by a thread, destroyed by a woman I can still taste on my lips.