Sterling Industries operated on three unshakeable principles, printed in sleek silver letters across the lobby wall: Work on Time. Work with Impact. Work That Captivates. Emma had read them during her interview, admired their simplicity, even felt inspired by them.
Now, after three days of being buried alive under work, those words felt more like a threat than a motto.
The new project had started exactly one week before Emma's arrival—a massive nutritional consulting initiative for Sterling's wellness tech division. They were developing an AI-powered meal planning app that needed expert input on dietary science, nutritional balance, and health optimization. When HR discovered Emma's Bachelor's in Nutrition on her resume, they'd practically celebrated. Finally, someone with the exact expertise they desperately needed.
What Emma hadn't anticipated was Jessica weaponizing that expertise against her.
"Ms. Hart." Jessica appeared at her desk like a vulture circling prey, dropping yet another thick folder onto the growing mountain of work. "Mr. Sterling needs the nutritional analysis for the Mediterranean diet module by end of day. Also, the macro calculations for the athlete-focused meal plans. And the research compilation on gut microbiome impacts for the premium tier features."
Emma stared at the folder, then at the three other folders already consuming her desk space. "That's... Jessica, that's at least forty hours of work."
"Then you'd better get started." Jessica's smile was razor-sharp. "Unless you'd like me to inform Mr. Sterling that you can't handle the workload? I'm sure he'd be very interested to know his new hire is already struggling."
The threat hung in the air between them. Emma knew exactly what Jessica was doing—setting her up to fail, creating an impossible situation so she could run to Alexander with proof that Emma wasn't cut out for the job. It was textbook workplace sabotage, and the worst part was that Emma couldn't refuse without looking incompetent.
"I'll have it done," Emma said evenly, meeting Jessica's cold stare with steel in her own eyes.
"We'll see." Jessica turned on her designer heels and walked away, satisfaction radiating from every step.
Emma took a deep breath, cracked her knuckles, and got to work.
The thing about being underestimated, Emma had learned over the years, was that it gave you a specific kind of fuel. Every professor who'd doubted her, every classmate who'd assumed she'd gotten by on her looks, every person who'd mistaken her beauty for lack of substance—they'd all inadvertently made her sharper, faster, more determined to prove them wrong.
She dove into the research with methodical precision. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she compiled data on Mediterranean diet benefits, cross-referenced peer-reviewed studies on omega-3 fatty acids and cardiovascular health, calculated macro ratios for different athletic performance goals. Years of academic training kicked in like muscle memory—she knew how to synthesize complex information, how to present data clearly, how to make nutritional science accessible without dumbing it down.
Three hours passed in a blur of spreadsheets, research papers, and color-coded charts.
At 6 PM, Marcus appeared with takeout containers and an expression of disbelief. "You're still here? Jessica actually gave you the Mediterranean diet project? That was supposed to be distributed across the entire nutrition consulting team."
"She gave me everything." Emma didn't look up from her screen, highlighting a section about polyphenol compounds.
"That's... that's actually evil. Even for her." Marcus set down pad thai and spring rolls. "Eat. You can't outsmart the Ice King's saboteur on an empty stomach."
Emma grabbed a spring roll, taking a bite while simultaneously formatting a macro calculation table. "I'm almost done."
"You're insane."
"I'm motivated." She glanced at him, allowing herself a small smile. "Jessica wants me to fail. Which means I'm going to succeed so spectacularly that she chokes on her own bitterness."
Marcus laughed, a genuine sound of delight. "Oh, I like you. You've got bite underneath all that beauty."
By 8:30 PM, Emma had completed everything. Not just completed—perfected. She'd created comprehensive reports with visual aids, included practical application examples, cited cutting-edge research, and even added implementation suggestions that went beyond what was requested. If Alexander Sterling wanted captivating work, she'd give him work that sang.
But now came the dangerous part.
She had to face the Ice King himself.
The entire office had heard the rumors. Alexander Sterling never praised anyone. Never showed satisfaction. His standards were impossibly high, and his criticism was surgically precise. Emma had overheard at least five different horror stories in the break room—grown men leaving his office red-faced, experienced executives stammering apologies, even the Chief Financial Officer once admitting that a meeting with Alexander felt like "being dissected by a very polite scalpel."
Jessica had made sure Emma heard every single story, her eyes glittering with anticipation of Emma's inevitable failure
Emma stood outside Alexander's office doors, the completed reports clutched in her hands like a shield. Through the frosted glass, she could see his silhouette at his desk, backlit by the city lights that had replaced the afternoon sun. It was nearly 9 PM. He was still working, of course. The Ice King never left before midnight, according to office legend.
Her heart hammered against her ribcage. She told herself it was just professional anxiety, just the normal nervousness of presenting work to a notoriously exacting CEO.
She refused to acknowledge that part of her reaction had anything to do with the way his eyes had looked in the coffee shop, or the way his presence seemed to fill entire rooms, or the way his voice on the intercom made her skin prickle with something that definitely wasn't just fear.
Focus. This is about work. Only work.
Emma raised her hand and knocked—three firm, confident raps that belied the chaos in her chest.
"Come in."
She pushed open the doors and stepped into his domain.
Alexander sat behind his enormous desk, the only light coming from a sleek desk lamp that cast sharp shadows across his striking features. He'd loosened his tie slightly, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing those distracting forearms. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and those impossible hunter eyes lifted to meet hers with their usual cool assessment.
"Ms. Hart." His voice was neutral, giving nothing away. "I wasn't expecting these until tomorrow."
"You didn't give me a deadline, sir. I assumed you needed them as soon as possible." Emma crossed the space between them, setting the folders on his desk with steady hands. "The Mediterranean diet analysis, athlete macro calculations, and microbiome research compilation. Everything Jessica requested."
Something flickered across his expression—surprise, maybe—but it vanished before she could be sure.
"All of it?" He reached for the first folder, those long fingers with their neat, trimmed nails opening the cover. "She assigned you the work of an entire team."
"I'm aware."
His eyes snapped to hers, sharp and assessing. For a moment, Emma thought she saw approval there, but then he looked back down at her work without comment.
The silence that followed was excruciating
Alexander reviewed her reports with the same intense focus she'd watched him apply to everything—absolute, unwavering concentration. He flipped through pages, scanned charts, read her nutritional analyses with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. Emma stood there, hands clasped behind her back, watching him work and trying not to let her imagination run wild with worst-case scenarios.
He hates it. He's going to find every flaw. He's going to tell me it's inadequate and Jessica was right about me.
But as the minutes ticked by, something strange happened.
Alexander's jaw tightened slightly. His fingers paused on a particular chart Emma had created comparing omega-3 sources. His eyes—those devastating eyes that shifted between amber and brown in the lamplight—flickered with something that looked almost like... interest?
No. She was imagining it.
Except she wasn't.
Emma watched, fascinated despite herself, as the Ice King's poker face developed the tiniest crack. His lips parted slightly as he read her analysis of polyphenol compounds. His shoulders, always held with rigid control, relaxed by maybe half an inch. He leaned forward, genuinely engaged with her work in a way that made something warm and dangerous bloom in her chest.
He was impressed.
He was actually impressed.
And more than that—Emma could swear she saw his pulse jump at his throat when he glanced up at her for a fraction of a second before returning to the reports. Could see the way his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the pages. Could sense something shifting in the air between them, something electric and forbidden that had nothing to do with nutritional science and everything to do with the way they were suddenly, acutely aware of each other in this quiet office.
No. Stop. He's your boss. This is professional. Only professional.
But her body didn't care about professionalism. Her heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with anxiety. Her skin felt too warm. And when Alexander finally looked up at her, really looked at her, Emma saw something in those hunter eyes that made her breath catch.
Attraction.
Raw, undeniable, completely inappropriate attraction.
He felt it too.
For exactly three seconds, the Ice King's mask slipped. Emma saw it all—the way his gaze dropped to her lips before he could stop himself, the way his jaw clenched with what looked like restraint, the way something hungry and possessive flashed through his eyes before he ruthlessly crushed it back down.
Then the mask slammed back into place.
"Good." The word was clipped, almost harsh. "You can leave."
That was it. Good. Not "excellent work" or "impressive analysis" or any of the praise she'd earned. Just "good" delivered in a tone that suggested he wanted her out of his office immediately.
Emma felt the dismissal like a slap. "Sir—"
"I said you can leave, Ms. Hart." His eyes were back to ice, his voice absolutely controlled. But his hands—his hands were still gripping her reports a little too tightly. "Be here at 7 AM tomorrow. We have a board meeting."
She nodded stiffly, pride warring with confusion. "Yes, sir."
Emma turned and walked toward the doors, her mind spinning. She'd done everything right. The work was flawless. She'd seen his reaction, seen the crack in his armor. So why did she feel like she'd somehow lost ground instead of gained it?
Her hand was on the door handle when his voice stopped her.
"Ms. Hart."
She turned back. Alexander hadn't moved from his desk, but something in his posture had changed. He looked... tired. And maybe a little bit conflicted.
"The work was exceptional." He said it quietly, almost reluctantly. "Don't let Jessica convince you otherwise."
Then he turned back to his computer, effectively dismissing her again.
Emma walked out of his office in a daze. The doors clicked shut behind her with a soft finality that felt significant somehow.
The floor was nearly empty now—just the cleaning crew and the glow of city lights through the windows. She sank into her desk chair, exhaling a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
Good. Exceptional. Don't let Jessica convince you otherwise.
She'd done it. She'd proven herself. She'd survived the impossible task and earned... well, maybe not praise, but acknowledgment from the Ice King himself.
But that wasn't what made her pulse race.
It was the way he'd looked at her in those three unguarded seconds. The way the air had charged with something dangerous and electric. The way she'd felt his walls crack just enough to see what was underneath—
And what she'd seen had been anything but cold.
Emma gathered her things slowly, her mind replaying every moment. The tightness in his jaw. The way his eyes had tracked her movements. The hunger he'd so ruthlessly suppressed.
Something had shifted tonight.
Some invisible gate had unlocked.
Emma didn't know what was on the other side. Didn't know if she wanted to find out.
But as she rode the elevator down to the lobby, she couldn't shake the feeling that Alexander Sterling—the Ice King, the untouchable CEO, the man who never showed emotion—had just revealed something he'd never meant to show.
And there was no taking it back.