He’d never been the type to believe in fate.

People liked to talk about Ethan Vale like they knew him. The headlines called him a “ruthless genius,” a “tattooed billionaire heartbreaker,” and once, his personal favorite, “the devil in a suit.” They whispered stories about his late-night parties, his impossible work standards, and his long list of blonde, model-type girlfriends.

But no one really knew him. Not the man who stayed up until 3 AM building his empire from scratch. Not the boy who’d buried his father at nineteen and inherited an empire of cold stares and colder boardrooms.

And definitely not the woman currently curled up in his lap like some terrified kitten.

It started with paperwork. Boring, frustrating paperwork he didn’t want to do, especially not with her—the same girl who used to call him names in middle school, now grown into a sharp-tongued, soft-bodied woman who somehow made Excel sheets feel like battlefields.

She was loud, opinionated, the complete opposite of the women he was usually seen with. And yet…

There was something about the way she scribbled notes with determination. Something about her crooked smile when she thought she outsmarted him. Something—

Buzz.

The bee came out of nowhere.

She screamed, jumped, flailed—and somehow ended up crashing into him, knocking over a glass of water, and landing squarely on his lap.

For a moment, everything went quiet.

Her face was pressed against his chest, her hand clinging to his shirt like she’d just seen death.

He could smell her shampoo. Something sweet.

His hands were hovering in the air, unsure of what to do. His pulse? Absolutely betraying him.

What the hell was happening?

He should’ve pushed her off.

Instead, he looked down at her, heart beating a little too loud in his ears, and thought, This is bad. Really bad.

And not because she was his childhood enemy. Not because she was supposed to be on a date later.

No.

Because for the first time in a long time… He didn’t want her to move.