Chapter 2 The Man Behind The Kiss

Sunlight was slicing through Genevieve Montgomery's bedroom window as she woke up. She moaned and buried herself further in the satin sheets, but she was unable to fall back asleep due to the pounding in her temples. How could she have done that? In fragments, the night returned: a golden-lit ballroom, treachery twisted like venom in her veins, and finally him. Rockwell, Silas. She recalled the feel of his suit under the covers as her fingers twitched against them. The unrestrained, scorching, and unforgettable kiss. With a start, Genevieve sat up and pressed her hands to her face. "God." In front of Christian, she had planted a kiss on a stranger. had allowed her rage and heartache to make her the night's biggest scandal. But was it more than a stranger? Silas Rockwell was the one. A multi-billionaire. A name that was spoken in whispers among the elites of New York. Untouchable. unforgiving. She had kissed him as if she were his own. A dark, electrifying feeling that was dangerously close to excitement swept through her at the thought. She was abruptly brought back to the present when her phone buzzed against the nightstand. A notification flashed. Here at Rockwell Enterprises, welcome. At precisely 9 AM, your first day starts. Her chest hammered with panic. No. No, no, no. She pushed off the sheets, sprinted to the closet, and sprung out of bed. After everything with Christian had fallen apart, she had battled valiantly for this job, which was a new beginning. She couldn't afford to make a single error. Even if that error had a mouth designed for sin and cold blue eyes. Brushing through her curls with barely contained hysteria, Genevieve pushed herself into a blue pencil skirt and a white top. An expert. An empty canvas. She had to be just that. The clock gave her a fierce look. 8:47 a.m. She would arrive late. Ignoring the wave of nausea still gnawing at her stomach, she picked up her luggage and hurried out the door. Her previous error is waiting for her in the office she just entered, which is the last thing she expects. As Genevieve strode inside the Rockwell Enterprises skyscraper, her heels tapping against the polished marble, the mirrored doors yawned open. The building's immense size was daunting; it was a soaring steel and glass monster that hummed with silent strength. The energy was brutally controlled. Only the strongest survived in this environment, where ambition was paramount. She took a deep breath. She was one of them today. A woman carrying a tablet came up in a stylish black dress. Genevieve Montgomery, huh? "Yes." The woman gave a cold, professional nod. "The executive division is where you are assigned. Eighty floors. Come with me. Genevieve gasped in surprise. the 80th floor. where the empire was ruled by the aristocracy. where the CEO was in charge. She squared her shoulders and followed the woman into the elevator despite a shiver of uneasiness running down her spine. The ride was quick, eerily quiet, and the numbers increased steadily. The doors opened smoothly. It was another world on the executive floor. With staff moving quickly, voices mumbling with crisp precision, and the smell of leather, new coffee, and something costly lingering in the air, it pulsed with controlled pandemonium. The woman pointed to a glass-walled office at the end of the hallway before Genevieve had time to process it. "You will be providing direct assistance to the CEO. We'll start your orientation in…… The door opened. Genevieve pivoted. And the world fell away from her. With the same sly smile he had on his face the night before, Silas Rockwell stood there, observing her. The air between them was dangerously harsh and fractured. Both of them remained silent for a long, tense period. Then his voice, sharp as a sword, soft as silk. "Miss Montgomery," he whispered to her. "Greetings from your new position." She gave her new employer a kiss. She was now imprisoned in his world. Under pressure, Genevieve had always maintained her composure. However, she felt completely different when she was at the office of Silas Rockwell, the man whose lips had just hours before wounded hers. He exuded seamless control and elegant authority, and his presence was oppressive. Crossing his arms and leaning against the edge of his desk, he observed her like a predator would observe a cornered animal. She began, "I…." but her throat betrayed her, her words vanishing under the weight of his stare. He waited for a long moment before he spoke. "I presume HR overlooked the fact that we've already met." Her stomach churned. This cannot be taking place. It was not taking place. "I….I didn't, last night." Silas grinned more broadly. "Didn't you?" Exhaling, Genevieve struggled to maintain her position. "I had no idea who you were." Softly, almost amusedly, he tsked. "There are now two of us." She knitted her brows. "What?" Pushing off the desk, he moved in her direction. I had no idea you would be working for me last night. Nevertheless, here we are. Genevieve's heart pounded. "This, will this not be an issue?" Silas's face remained the same, but there was a shift in the atmosphere, something unspoken and deadly. "A problem?" he said in a smooth-sounding voice. "That depends." Her heart faltered. "On what?" With a steady, purposeful glance that was almost tactile, Silas examined her. "On your ability to follow directions, Miss Montgomery." Genevieve's breathing became labored. The game was different now. Furthermore, she wasn't certain if she was being played or playing it. Silas is refusing to let this go. Additionally, Genevieve simply stepped into a trap that she was unaware of. Silas Rockwell's stare held Genevieve stationary, and she felt the air grow thinner. His piercing, unfathomably icy blue eyes revealed nothing. Not acknowledgment. Not for fun. Not even rage. Just a methodical, slow calculation, similar to how a predator evaluates its prey. He whispered, "Interesting first impression, Ms. Montgomery." The words were gentle, almost lackadaisical, but they cut like a razor through her poise. He leaned back against his desk, a muscle in his jaw twitching, and his effortless authority filled the glass-walled office, filling every square inch. The Manhattan skyline glistened endlessly behind him, but he was the real force in the room. Breathing was something Genevieve had to do. "I…." Words tangled like needles in her dry throat. "I was unaware of….." Silas raised a single, flawless eyebrow. "That the man you kissed last night would be your employer?" Her cheeks became hot. The harsh reality of her current position conflicted with the warm, demanding, and unquestionably consuming memory of his lips upon hers. There was a tiny twist to his lips. Or was that a ploy for the interview? Genevieve's back straightened. "Pardon me?" With an enigmatic face, Silas cocked his head. "I don't hide my distractions on a regular basis." The embarrassment was burned away as rage flared in her chest. She retorted, "And I don't kiss my bosses all the time." Silas laughed. "Sorry. You're pretty skilled at it. She felt her gut lurch. He was trying her and playing with her to see if she would break. Genevieve took a deep breath. He wouldn't get satisfaction from her. She raised her chin. "Mr. Rockwell, will you fire me?" Silas examined her for a painfully long moment, prolonging it only to see her writhe. Finally, as if she had bored him, he let out a breath through his nostrils. "No." Her chest swelled with relief. Then, though, he gave a slow, evil smile. "Not just yet." What kind of game does Silas play? And why does she seem to be losing already? On her first day at Rockwell Enterprises, Genevieve had a lot of expectations. a competent group. a difficult workload. The beginning of a new, clean career. Instead, as he dismissed her as if she were inconsequential, she stood in the office of her new boss, still tasting the ghost of his kisses. Silas stood up erect, his suit jacket moving with easy accuracy. "I take it that HR told you about your role?" Genevieve swallowed hard. Indeed. The CEO's executive assistant. He walked behind his desk while humming. "You should be aware that I want efficiency. Accuracy. total discretion. With his presence engulfing the entire room, he collapsed into his chair. Genevieve resisted letting her legs shake. "I'm capable of managing that." Silas's fingers were steepled. "Are you able to?" She paused. There it was, the warning. Not subtle. Not kind. A threat in whispers, clothed in steel and silk. Silas Rockwell was an incorrigible man. She had just provided him with a reason to think of her. With a quick glance at his screen, he said, "Your schedule is already in your inbox." His lips quivered in mockery as he said, "You'll be working directly with me, which means long hours, no excuses, and….." no personal entanglements. Genevieve stopped breathing. This was fun for him. He was aware that the scales were skewed too much in his favor. To preserve what little professionalism she still had, her thoughts begged her to grovel and apologize. She wasn't weak, though, darn it. "I get it." Her tone was clear and aloof. "There is nothing to be concerned about." A glint of enjoyment crossed his features. A letdown? It passed too quickly to capture. "All right," he whispered. "You can leave." dismissed. As simple as that. With her dignity barely preserved, Genevieve turned abruptly. She had erred, and it had been disastrous. As she left the office, the weight of his stare pressed against her back, making her stomach turn. She had two options. Either she resigned before her career was destroyed, or Or she demonstrated to Silas Rockwell that she wasn't merely a toy for him to play. Is Genevieve able to endure working with Silas? Or has she lost before she's even begun?