CHAPTER 2

THE ARRIVAL OF AURORA COLLINS

The alarm went off at six in the morning.

Aurora opened her eyes slowly, breathing deep as she stared at the plain ceiling of her small apartment. Another day was beginning — but this wasn't just another day. This was the day.

The day she'd finally get a new shot at a career.

The day she'd walk into one of the biggest companies in the country.

The day when, for the first time since losing her last job, something seemed to be going right.

She climbed out of bed with determination, even though the cold pit in her stomach betrayed the nerves she was trying to hide. She walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the hot water cascade over her body, loosening her tense muscles.

She closed her eyes, bracing her hands against the wall as the water soaked her blonde hair.

"Come on, Collins — today you show them who you are," she murmured to herself.

After the shower, she wrapped herself in a soft towel and stood in front of the mirror. She combed out her long, naturally wavy hair and started on her makeup — and for Aurora, makeup wasn't vanity. It was armor.

A light layer of foundation.

A touch of highlighter.

Mascara to sharpen her striking gaze.

And a red lipstick, subtle, almost wine-dark, that made her full lips even more beautiful.

When she finished, she faced her reflection.

Gorgeous.

Strong.

Ready.

Aurora had always known who she was. She'd never been a victim of her own body. She refused to let numbers on a scale dictate her self-worth. And above all, she wouldn't let the arrogant CEO — the one Joseph had told her about — destroy her confidence.

She put on the black pencil skirt that hugged every curve to perfection. A white satin blouse — elegant and just provocative enough. Black heels. A warm, sweet-woody perfume. And her hair down, falling like a golden curtain.

Downstairs in the tiny kitchen, she made her usual breakfast: scrambled eggs, toast, and a strong cup of coffee.

At the orphanage, they always said "fat people eat too much."

She smiled every time she remembered that.

Aurora didn't eat too much.

Aurora ate well.

And she wasn't changing that for anyone.

After washing the dishes quickly, she grabbed her bag, locked the apartment, and called a cab.

As the car crossed Manhattan, she watched the tall buildings catching the morning light, the frantic movement, the hurried people. It was different from everything she'd known. It was life. It was ambition. It was proof that, despite everything, she'd made it.

When the taxi finally stopped in front of the building, Aurora lost her breath for a moment.

The Cavallieri Company.

Twenty stories of pure mirrored glass, reflecting the sky as if it were part of it. The silver gleam, the flawless facade, the sleek modern design — everything screamed power, wealth, and perfectionism.

"My God..." she whispered, almost involuntarily.

It was far more imposing than she'd imagined.

She paid the driver, straightened her clothes, and walked in. The lobby was massive, lit by modern chandeliers, with polished black marble floors. Impeccably dressed employees moved in every direction.

And, as she always did, Aurora smiled and greeted everyone who crossed her path.

"Good morning!"

"Hello!"

"Hi, how are you?"

Some looked surprised. Others, charmed. A few discreetly sized up her body — some with admiration, others with judgment. She was used to it.

Aurora didn't need anyone to approve of her body.

She approved of it herself.

And that was enough.

She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the twentieth floor. The CEO's floor. The floor of the arrogant man who screamed at employees. The floor of the man who couldn't tolerate "people outside the standard."

She took a deep breath.

"Let him try it with me," she murmured. "He'll learn today."

When the doors opened, Aurora took her first step onto the top floor — and nearly smiled at the elegance of the space.

The twentieth floor was quiet, luxurious, and immaculate. Glass walls offered a panoramic view of the city. Fresh flower arrangements, understated furniture, and technology everywhere.

An empty desk caught her attention — probably hers. On it sat a new tablet, a cordless phone, a laptop, and a personal printer.

She took a deep breath.

Straightened her blazer.

Picked up the tablet.

And walked toward the enormous black door at the end of the hallway.

Gold lock.

Flawless finish.

And presence.

The CEO's door.

Aurora lifted her chin and knocked twice.

A low, husky voice — impossibly sexy — answered:

"Come in."

The voice made her stomach flip — not from nerves, but from sheer impact.

When she opened the door...

her world stopped for three seconds.

Ethan Cavallieri sat behind his desk, his dress shirt partially rolled up, revealing deep, geometric, dark tattoos that climbed from his forearm to his sculpted chest. He was tall, imposing, with a perfectly trimmed beard and dark hair styled with precision.

His fair skin contrasted sharply with the ink.

His jawline looked like it had been chiseled from stone.

And the cologne — wood and coffee.

A sinful scent.

The kind that made any woman dizzy.

Aurora swallowed hard.

"Good morning, Mr. Cavallieri," she said firmly. "I'm Aurora Collins, your new personal assistant. Shall we begin?"

He lifted his face slowly, as if he had all the time in the world to study her.

And study her he did.

From her shoes to her hair.

Without a shred of modesty.

Without a shred of kindness.

With a look that mixed contempt, indifference, and... something harder to decipher.

His jaw clenched.

His eyes narrowed.

And his first words were a blow.

"I hope you're prepared to skip meals," he said with disdain. "I don't stop for lunch. And I'm sure you... can't afford to miss one, can you?"

Aurora froze.

For one second.

Just one.

Then... she smiled.

A slow smile.

Dangerous.

Razor-sharp.

"Don't worry, Mr. Cavallieri," she said, her voice calm. "I can work without eating, yes."

He lifted his chin, satisfied, thinking he'd won.

Aurora finished:

"But can you... can you work without being an asshole?"

The silence became so thick it felt tangible.

Ethan blinked once. Just once.

As if never, ever, in his entire life, had anyone dared to answer him like that.

Aurora stepped forward, looking straight into his eyes.

"Because here's how it works, Mr. Cavallieri:

if you humiliate me, I humiliate you right back.

If you raise your voice at me, I raise mine too.

If you try to make me feel small... I put you in your place."

She set the tablet down on his desk without breaking eye contact.

"I'm your assistant, not your slave. And as long as I'm here, you're going to have to learn to deal with someone who isn't afraid of you. And who isn't asking for your approval. Are we clear?"

Ethan sat motionless.

Motionless.

Watching this woman who didn't bow.

Who didn't tremble.

Who didn't apologize for existing.

Aurora Collins was a living affront to his perfectionism.

And she didn't even seem to notice.

Or she noticed... and couldn't care less.

Finally, Ethan spoke, his voice low, tense, irritated:

"You don't know who you're talking to."

Aurora matched his tone:

"No, I don't. But you'll show me. Or are you going to keep hiding behind that title?"