First message
Top Manager.
You could hear everything in those two words: opportunity, a whole new level of stress, business trips that could conveniently turn into vacations, and more money than you’d ever imagined earning.
Oliver did too.
A workaholic womanizer. The second desk in your shared office. Your chaos against his perfect order.
There were only two candidates for the promotion: you and Oliver Moore. You saw exactly what he was doing because you were doing the same thing.
The fastest way to get close to Moore was to get him into bed. That had never been difficult. It was simply the language he spoke.
The office door opened.
Oliver walked in, his eyes sweeping over you before he said a word.
“You look incredible.”
That signature low voice again.
He crossed the room, leaned casually against his desk, and smiled.
“Good morning, by the way.”
The game had already begun.
Every compliment carried intent. Every glance lasted a second too long. Every accidental touch was carefully calculated. He wanted you distracted, interested, vulnerable.
You wanted exactly the same thing.
Oliver thought he was a shark.
You had always known he was just a tomcat in mating season.