Chapter 1 - The Man Behind the GlassOne night was supposed to mean nothing. Then Monday morning arrived.
The first thing Isa Burn noticed when she woke was the silence.
Not the comfortable silence of a Sunday morning in her Brooklyn apartment, where pipes groaned in the walls and a delivery truck usually rattled down the street before eight.
This silence was absolute.
Expensive.
She opened her eyes.
For several seconds, she didn't remember where she was.
Then she felt an arm around her waist.
Her entire body went still.
The sheets were white.
The room was enormous.
Sunlight poured through floor-to-ceiling windows, spilling across polished wood floors and a rug softer than anything Isa had ever owned.
And behind her, breathing slowly against the back of her neck, was Declan.
She remembered everything.
The rooftop.
The cosmopolitans.
His green eyes.
His terrible pickup line.
The espresso.
The kiss.
Everything after that came rushing back in fragments that made her cheeks burn.
Isa carefully lifted his arm and slipped out of bed.
She collected her dress from the floor.
It was inside out.
She stared at it.
"You have got to be kidding me."
A quiet laugh came from the bed.
She froze.
Declan was awake.
His hair was messy, his face softer without the careful expression he had worn the night before.
"Good morning," he said.
"I need to leave."
"So I gathered."
She turned toward him. "I have a presentation Monday."
"You mentioned that approximately six times."
"You were supposed to forget that."
"I don't forget much about you."
Her heart betrayed her with one stupid, violent beat.
She looked away.
He sat up.
"Coffee?"
"I should go."
"Coffee before you go."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because I slept with a stranger."
His expression changed.
Not offended.
Not amused.
Just unexpectedly serious.
"I'm not a stranger."
"You were twelve hours ago."
"Fair."
He stood, grabbed his shirt from the floor, and walked toward her.
Isa took one step backward.
"Declan..."
"I'm not going to make this complicated."
"That's exactly what men say before making things complicated."
His smile returned.
"Then let me make it simple. I like you."
She looked at him.
"I like you too."
The confession escaped before she could stop it.
Something warm moved through his eyes.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
The softness disappeared.
"One second."
He stepped away.
Isa couldn't help noticing the change.
The man who had talked about butterflies and bad childhood dinners had vanished.
This was someone else.
Colder.
Sharper.
"Yes."
A pause.
"No. The board meeting stays at nine."
Another pause.
"Fire him."
Isa stared.
Declan's voice was calm.
"We don't negotiate with people who threaten the company."
She felt a strange chill.
He turned slightly away.
"I'm not discussing this over the phone."
He ended the call.
When he looked back at her, the billionaire-shaped shadow was gone again.
Only Declan remained.
"Work?" she asked.
"Something like that."
She nodded.
"Do you own a company?"
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"Something like that."
She laughed.
"You're terrible at answering questions."
"I've been told."
Her phone buzzed.
Maya.
Four missed calls.
Isa groaned.
"She thinks I've been murdered."
"Would you like me to reassure her?"
"Absolutely not."
He watched her dress.
Then he reached into a drawer and pulled out a small black card.
He handed it to her.
No name.
No title.
Only a phone number.
"Call me."
Isa looked at the card.
"What if I don't?"
"Then I'll be disappointed."
"You'll survive."
"I probably will."
She slipped the card into her purse.
At the private elevator, she turned around.
Declan stood in the middle of the penthouse, shirt partially buttoned, watching her.
For one dangerous second, she wanted to stay.
Instead, she stepped into the elevator.
The doors closed.
She exhaled.
"That was a mistake."
She didn't know yet how wrong she was.
Because three hours later, while Isa was standing in her tiny kitchen making toast, the television over the counter switched to a breaking-business segment.
She glanced up.
A photograph filled the screen.
Dark auburn hair.
Green eyes.
The same face she had kissed.
Her hands went numb.
The news anchor smiled professionally.
"At thirty-four, Declan Vale has officially completed the acquisition of Harrison Strategic Group, one of New York's fastest-growing consulting firms."
Isa stopped breathing.
The photograph changed.
Declan stepped from a black car beneath a wall of cameras.
Now he wore a charcoal suit.
There was no trace of the man from last night.
The caption appeared beneath him.
DECLAN VALE, BILLIONAIRE INVESTOR AND NEW CEO OF HARRISON STRATEGIC GROUP.
Isa dropped the toast.
Her phone slipped from her hand.
Monday.
Her presentation.
Her promotion track.
Her career.
Her entire professional future.
Every piece of it suddenly belonged to the man whose bed she had left three hours ago.
And then her work phone buzzed.
An email had arrived.
FROM: OFFICE OF THE CEO
The subject line contained only four words.
ALL STAFF. 8:30 A.M.
Isa stared at the screen.
Then another email appeared.
MANDATORY ATTENDANCE.
She opened it.
There was one sentence inside.
Please welcome our new CEO, Mr. Declan Vale.
Isa whispered his name.
"No."
The phone buzzed again.
This time it was a text from an unknown number.
You look beautiful when you're terrified.
She knew immediately who had sent it.
Her fingers trembled over the screen.
Before she could answer, another message appeared.
See you Monday, Isa.
May you like
And suddenly Monday wasn't the problem.
Declan was.
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