Chapter 2
2
Pia
I bite my lip and try to stop myself from crying.
I’m not a baby, for heaven’s sake. So why am I hiding in the toilet for the second time today, wringing my fingers and taking deep breaths so I don’t wail like un enfant ?
It all started Saturday, when Uncle Phil told me he wouldn’t be meeting me at the airport; that I wouldn’t be staying with him and Aunt Barb and commuting into the office with him as we’d discussed last month.
Why did he make me leave Switzerland to come to Philadelphia if he intended to go away to St. Lucia?
I press my lips together to catch a sob rising in my throat. I know why.
He didn’t want to be saddled with a burden. Not when his own wife wasn’t well. He didn’t tell me that, of course. But the headmistress and the teachers at La Montreux weren’t as discreet as they liked the parents to think.
Gossip trickled down as it usually did until I heard fourth-hand that my aunt’s health had taken a turn for the worse.
I didn’t ask Uncle Phil because I didn’t really want him to confirm the bad news.
Now, on top of everything else, I feel bad for not asking. For wallowing in my own unhappiness when he must be dealing with a worrying situation.
But still…
It’s been all so overwhelming.
Philadelphia is too loud. Too busy. Too everything .
People stare.
Men make lewd remarks to me about my face and body.
When I arrived, the woman in HR spoke too fast, as if she needed to get the words out before they dried up, and I didn’t hear half of what she said.
Then, that first time I went to the washroom, I’d returned to find she and my group of fellow interns had left without me.
I was terrified they would fire me on the spot when I approached that man’s office to ask for their whereabouts.
That man…
I press my hand against my chest when my heart starts racing once more. Mon dieu , he was beyond beautiful.
Manly. Incroyable. And intense.
That intensity was… terrifying. But oddly that danger had been compelling. The look in his eyes tugged at invisible strings inside me, pulling me to him. As if by magic he alone commanded.
I’ve never felt anything like it.
And when he stood up… So tall. So imposing. So sexy .
I squirm as a sound leaps from my throat. A cross between a yelp and a moan. He made strange things move inside my body.
The blood rushed in my ears like that one time I’d ridden on a rollercoaster when Dad took me to Disneyland Paris when I was nine.
But no… that wasn’t quite the feeling.
This was more .
All those years ago, I’d laughed when I stepped off the roller coaster.
Not this time. This time, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to fling myself at the man or run away from him. Because he looked intense. And hungry .
His eyes threatened to eat me alive.
And he most definitely didn’t like it when Mr. Harris shook my hand.
He’d looked even more terrifying then.
I was lucky the kind woman, Maggie, had been with me.
Especially when the terrifying man had introduced himself as Ethan Villiers, almost snatching my hand from Mr. Harris’s, and abruptly announced that I would be interning for him.
Maggie had looked surprised, maybe a little alarmed. Then she’d sent me a sympathetic look before she smiled.
While I took consolation in that, I’m still terrified.
But she can’t be with you all the time.
And you can’t keep hiding in the toilet because you’re scared of your new boss.
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes to stop the threatening tears. I take a few deep breaths, kicking myself for not paying better attention when the yoga instructor at La Montreux had tried to teach me calming techniques, and leave the cubicle.
My lunch break is over in…thirty seconds.
I wash and dry my hands quickly, then do my best to wipe away signs of my distress before I leave the washroom.
The moment I step into the hallway leading to his office, I feel a deep compulsion that drags my head up.
Ethan Villiers is in his office, watching me.
His eyebrows are two dark slashes and the contrasting piercing gray eyes make him look like a ruthless predator.
Not even his sharp, three-piece suit can disguise the untamed aura that wraps around him and moves with each twitch of his body.
I shiver when he tracks me all the way to Maggie’s desk.
I avert my gaze for a few seconds, but I can’t help myself. I glance back. He’s still watching me. His phone is glued to his ear and he’s carrying a conversation, but his eyes follow my every movement.
Just when I think I’m going to shrivel beneath his gaze, he stands abruptly and strides to his window, still speaking into his phone.
But even though he’s no longer watching me, I feel his eyes on me. Maybe through the glass reflection?
“Pia?”
I jump. “I’m sorry, Maggie. What did you say?”
She glances from Ethan’s office back to me. “I asked if you’re any good with filing?”
I nod a little dazedly. “Yes. I am.”
“Good,” she says, then shoots me an apologetic grimace before setting down a heap of files on the desk. “We just completed a big deal in China. I’ve fallen a little behind in the past few weeks. If you could help me out, that’d be great.” She steps around her desk. “If you come with me, I’ll get you set up.”
I follow her down the narrow hallway in silence, the files pressing heavily against my chest. She pushes open the door to the documents room, flicking on the lights.
The room smells like dry paper and floor polish, the walls lined with rows of gray cabinets.
She begins clearing a space on the central table. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” she says casually. “Ethan noticed.”
My heart jumps and I glance at her, surprised. “Did he? I… I hope so.”
Okay, that came out a little too eager.
“I want to be good at this job. For myself. And for Uncle Phil,” I hurry to add, fighting the blush creeping up my face.
She looks up then, meeting my eyes for a beat too long. “Just… a little advice?”
I nod, waiting.
“Ethan’s brilliant,” she says, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Driven like no one I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t sleep much, eats like it’s a chore, and has tunnel vision when it comes to making named partner. That’s his north star—always has been.”
I shift uncomfortably, sensing where this might be going.
Maggie continues, softer now. “He doesn’t mean to be careless with people. He just doesn’t always see them when he’s locked onto a goal. Sometimes he could be staring straight at you but thinking of his next three deals. So if you find yourself caught in that… singular focus”—her voice is careful, kind—“just remember that he’s fond of his ambition more.”
The files feel suddenly heavier in my hands.
She taps the stack gently, breaking the tension with a small smile.
“Anyway. These are alphabetized by client name. Should keep you busy for a bit.”
I nod mutely, throat tight. “Thank you, Maggie.”
She lingers a second longer. “He’s not a bad guy, Pia. But just remember he might chew you up and spit you out without even remembering he’d just had a snack. Okay?”
Then she’s gone before I can answer, the door swinging quietly shut behind her with a muted finality, leaving me alone in the quiet hum of the documents room.
I stand there for a moment, motionless, the weight in my arms growing heavier by the second.
He’s not a bad guy, Pia...
…chew you up and spit you out without even remembering he’d just had a snack.
Maggie’s words loop in my head, steady and warm and deeply inconvenient. Because contrary to heeding her advice, the thought of being a snack, Ethan’s snack, is making me feel all hot and bothered.
Making my thighs tingle alarmingly and my panties are dampening even as my cheeks grow uncomfortably hot.
I exhale and set the stack down with a dull thud.
The metal cabinet doors reflect my blurry outline—neat ponytail, cardigan sleeves pushed to the elbows, the tiniest smudge of pink highlighter still on my wrist from this morning’s meeting prep.
Crushing on your boss’s boss—great.
I’ve seen enough TV shows and read enough romances to know this is classic intern behavior. Except I know it’s more intense than your average crush.
It’s the way his eyes follow me—almost rabidly, compulsively —and when I stop at Maggie’s desk to speak to her, I sense he’s listening to every word.
And this morning, at the team meeting, he heard me out even when everyone else cuts each other off mid-sentence. It’s like watching someone chase something impossible like it’s already theirs.
But Maggie’s right. I’ve only been here two days but I’ve seen the way Ethan operates.
The sharpness in his voice when something’s not moving fast enough.
The emails timestamped at 3:43 a.m. when I helped Maggie with his diary this morning. His impatience with inefficiency.
The way he barely seems to notice the people around him unless they’re holding a contract or conquering a crisis.
I open the first cabinet, fingers brushing over the label stickers. “A–F.” A fitting place to start.
Maybe that’s all I am—an “F” folder: fleeting, functional, filed away before anyone even remembers what I was doing there in the first place.
I shake the thought off and start sorting, but my eyes keep flicking to the door like he might walk in even though I know he won’t.
Like this would be the moment he suddenly sees me—not as the intern who gets the lattes right or catches typos in quarterly summaries—but as someone who could matter.
But he won’t. Not really. Because Maggie’s right.
Ethan is chasing named partner the way other people chase love.
And I’m not sure there’s room for anything else.
Which should set my head straight.
Unfortunately, I’m a little terrified it won’t.