THE CEO WHO DOESN’T DO LOVE

Karin's POV

“I’m so fucked,” I whispered.

If my life were a movie, I’d be in the third row throwing candy at the screen. “Don’t do it, you idiot,” I’d hiss at the girl up there, dragging a hand over my face.

But there was no screen. No safe distance. Just me, in an office that smelled like money, staring straight into the last pair of eyes I ever expected to see again.

“Karin Ellis, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Vale,” Célestin chirped, bright and oblivious.

My brain stuttered.

Mr. Vale?

I turned, and the room tilted.

“Hello, Karin.”

The voice hit first—deeper than I remembered, but the same dark, smooth edge that once vibrated against my ear. My lungs seized. He looked at me from across the desk, blue eyes cool and vivid, an eyebrow lifting like he was in on some private joke.

Oh. My. God.

He rose from his chair, tall and unhurried, all expensive navy suit and unfair confidence. He rounded the desk and held out a hand.

“Adrien Vale.”

For a beat, I just stared.

No. No way.

It was him. The man from the airport hotel. The layover mistake I’d replayed in my head for the past year and a half. The man who made me forget my own name and then didn’t even ask for my number.

And he was the CEO?

“Karin, tell Mr. Vale all about yourself,” Célestin prompted, nudging me like my legs hadn’t just turned to concrete.

“Oh.” I snapped back, shoved my hand into his. “I’m Karin Ellis.”

His palm was warm, his grip firm and familiar. Muscle memory slammed into me—his hand pinning mine above my head, the scrape of his stubble on my neck. Heat shot straight down my spine, and I yanked my hand back like I’d grabbed a live wire.

His gaze held mine. His mouth stayed neutral. His eyes absolutely didn’t.

“Welcome to Vale Communications,” he said, smooth as glass.

“Thanks,” I managed, my voice coming out more as a croak.

I flicked a glance at Célestin. Did she have any idea I once let this man talk me out of my underwear in under twenty minutes?

“I’ll take it from here, Célestin. Ms. Ellis will be out in a moment,” Mr. Vale said.

Célestin hesitated. “I’ll just—”

“Wait outside,” he cut in, not unkind, just used to being obeyed.

Shit.

“Yes, sir.” She offered me a quick smile and slipped out. The door clicked shut, and suddenly there was too much air and not nearly enough oxygen.

I turned back to him.

He walked back around the desk and sat, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to watch me squirm. The skyline stretched behind him in floor-to-ceiling glass—Los Angeles laid out like his personal kingdom. The office looked more like a billionaire’s lair than a workspace: leather, glass, a bar in the corner, a conference table that probably cost more than my student debt.

His blue eyes stayed on me, steady. Assessing.

“Hello, Karin,” he said again, quieter this time.

I twisted my fingers together and forced my shoulders back. “Hi.”

He never asked for my number. Not a text. Not an email.

Just a mistake I wasn’t supposed to remember—and somehow never stopped.

One side of his mouth curved like he’d heard the lie I didn’t say out loud. He leaned back, long legs crossing at the ankle, owning the space between us like it was an extension of him. My gaze dropped—polished shoes, tailored pants, zero flaws. Of course.

“Nice to see you,” he said slowly. “I guess.”

“You guess?” I echoed.

His brows lifted, just a hint.

“Well, you’re not Rien,” I added.

“To some people, I’m Rien.” His tone was dry.

“Women you pick up in airport bars, you mean?”

Something flickered over his face—annoyance, then control sliding back into place. He folded his arms, suit stretching over his shoulders in a way I absolutely did not notice.

“What’s with the attitude?” he asked.

“I don’t have an attitude,” I snapped, way too fast.

One eyebrow lifted higher. The urge to reach across the desk and shove it back down was almost physical.

Silence stretched, thick and charged. I stared past him at the view instead—the tiny yellow taxis, the ant-sized people, all of them living normal, non-disastrous lives far below.

His fingers dragged slowly over his bottom lip as he studied me, and my stupid body misinterpreted it as a promise. Heat curled low in my stomach. I’d thought about that mouth way more than any self-respecting woman should.

“What are you doing in Los Angeles?” he asked finally.

I clung to the one thing I had left: dignity. “None of your business.”

For a second, something sharp flashed in his eyes, then it was gone, replaced by cool amusement.

“Well,” he said, “it is my business—since you’ll be working here.”

My heart dropped—annoyance, disappointment, something sharp I refused to name. I bit down on the inside of my cheek rather than say something I’d regret on my first day.

Of course he thought everything was his business. It probably was.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Vale.” I pasted on a professional smile that felt like it might crack my teeth. “Thank you for the welcome.”

Before he could say anything else, I turned, walked to the door on legs that barely remembered how to function, and stepped out. I closed it gently behind me instead of slamming it the way I wanted to.

I just had to get out of there before I torched my career in under ten minutes.

“All done?” Célestin looked up from her phone, bright as ever.

“Yes.” My voice sounded almost normal. “All done.”

We crossed reception and stepped into the elevator, the doors gliding shut with a soft whoosh. My pulse was still ricocheting around my body.

“Don’t feel rattled,” Célestin said, pressing the button for our floor.

I glanced at her. “Rattled?”

“He can be…intense.” She grimaced affectionately. “Very abrasive. Not great with people. But his mind is beyond incredible.”

So was his—

I cut the thought off before it finished.

“Good to know,” I said instead, focusing very hard on the changing numbers above the doors.

“Did he say anything to you?” she asked casually.

“No,” I lied. “Just polite chitchat.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You should feel very privileged. Adrien Vale doesn’t make polite chitchat with anyone.”

“Oh.” My stomach flipped. Of course he didn’t.

The doors slid open on my level, and I seized the escape. “Thank you so much for showing me around,” I told her, already half out of the elevator.

“You’re welcome.” She smiled. “And seriously, if you have any human resources issues, call me immediately.”

I nodded and stepped into the hallway, her words echoing after me.

If I had any issues.

I already had one—six foot three, blue-eyed, and signing my paychecks.