The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Langford Enterprises, bathing the marble floors in a golden glow. Mira Langford adjusted her sleek blazer, a signature crimson power suit that hugged her like second skin, and stepped into her office—only to freeze.
Sitting at the desk opposite hers, legs crossed and eyes buried in a tablet, was her.
Jerry Kingston.
But not just Jerry—this woman looked like she'd walked straight out of a forbidden daydream. Her navy button-up clung to her strong frame, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms. A silver chain glinted at her throat, and her black trousers hugged her hips and long legs perfectly. Her dark, tousled hair was swept back carelessly, giving her a devil-may-care, impossibly hot edge.
Mira stood at the door a second too long, blinking, trying to process the shift from rejection to this absurd reality—her ex-prospective fiancée was now her assistant?
Jerry looked up.
"Miss Langford," she said, voice low and smooth. "Your laptop is still on. You might want to focus on your pending deals rather than... your rejected proposals."
Mira's jaw twitched. That attitude.
Her eyes darted back to her laptop and she quickly crossed the room, cheeks warming. Jerry went back to her tablet without even a second glance.
Mira sat down, composing herself, but it was impossible to ignore the presence beside her. Jerry was tall—when they stood side by side earlier, she barely reached Jerry's shoulder. Her voice, her body language, the effortless swagger—it was infuriating. And stupidly attractive.
Mira found herself adjusting her glasses, pretending to read the report as she subtly peeked at Jerry again.
Her fingers gripped her pen tighter.
That sharp jawline. That lazy smirk. That damn rolled-up sleeve.
"Down, girl," she muttered under her breath.
Right then, the door burst open.
"Morning!" Mira's best friend, Lila, strutted in with two coffees. Her eyes immediately landed on Jerry. "Holy hell—who's that?"
Mira rolled her eyes. "My new assistant."
Lila raised an eyebrow. "Assistant? That's not an assistant, that's temptation with abs." She walked right up to Jerry, who didn't even bother to look up.
"Hey, Handsome," Lila purred. "Any chance you're free for dinner?"
Jerry finally looked up, one eyebrow raised. "I don't do pity dates," she replied coolly. "And I don't sleep with friends of my boss."
Mira choked on her coffee.
Lila stared, a mix of insulted and impressed. "Damn, okay. I like the attitude. You sure you're not into me?"
Jerry smirked. "I'm not sure you could handle me."
Lila turned to Mira, wide-eyed. "You're screwed."
Mira tried not to let her smirk show, but Jerry's dismissiveness toward Lila—and her cool dominance—made something flutter dangerously in her chest.
And in that moment, she realized: this month with Jerry Kingston was going to be a problem.
Not the kind Mira could fire. Not the kind she could ignore. But the kind that walked into her life wearing tailored pants and arrogance, and set everything on fire—slow, smoldering, and dangerously addictive.
Jerry moved through the office like she owned the place. Every time she stood beside Mira during a meeting or leaned over her shoulder to show her a report, Mira felt it—that spark, that heat. The scent of Jerry's cologne, crisp and dark, lingered in her lungs far too long.
It didn't help that Jerry's desk was now placed right across from hers—her grandfather's orders. "Keep your assistant close, Mira. The Kingston girl is sharp. And this merger isn't just business. It's legacy."
Legacy. Right. The same legacy Mira rejected when she turned down the arranged proposal without even looking at Jerry's file. She remembered the words she'd said back then:
"I'm not marrying a stranger. Especially not someone from that family."
And now here Jerry was, looking like every forbidden fantasy Mira had tried to suppress.
It didn't help that Jerry seemed to enjoy watching Mira squirm.
One afternoon, as Mira typed away at her laptop, she felt Jerry's eyes on her. She glanced up—and sure enough, Jerry was leaning back in her chair, arms folded, lips curved into that maddening half-smirk.
"What?" Mira snapped.
Jerry shrugged. "You type like you're punishing the keyboard."
Mira narrowed her eyes. "And you stare like you're waiting for it to break."
A beat passed.
Then Jerry chuckled. A soft, deep sound that sent goosebumps up Mira's arms.
"Maybe," Jerry said, "I'm just waiting to see how long it takes before you admit you're curious about me."
Mira's mouth went dry.
Before she could respond, the door opened again. This time it was Daniella, Mira's marketing director and not-so-secret admirer. She breezed in with her usual confidence, but the second she saw Jerry, she faltered.
"Oh… who's this?"
Jerry didn't look up from her notes. "Still not interested."
Daniella blinked. Mira barely hid her snort behind her hand.
Jerry finally looked up. "Also, I'm gay. So unless you've got a sister…"
Mira turned bright red.
Daniella gave a strained laugh. "Wow. Confident, aren't you?"
Jerry leaned forward, eyes flicking to Mira briefly. "I don't waste time pretending."
After Daniella left, Mira found herself staring at Jerry again. This woman was bold, smart, and unapologetically confident. And somehow, under all that cool sarcasm… there was a fire burning. A wound, maybe. One that Mira had unknowingly caused years ago.
She caught herself staring and looked away. But not fast enough.
"Caught you," Jerry said softly, voice low enough only Mira could hear.
Mira huffed and turned back to her screen.
"Focus on your work, Miss Langford," Jerry added, a teasing edge in her tone. "You're not paying me to flirt."
Mira refused to look up, but she could feel her face heating.
God help her.
Jerry Kingston wasn't just a problem—
She was the storm Mira never saw coming.