Page 5

His lips twitched, almost like he was fighting a smile.“We’ll see.”He quickly schooled his expression back into its usual stern lines, before pushing off the weight rack.“But don’t think this means I’m going soft on you.I expect results, not excuses.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I said, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest.“But don’t think this means I’m going to let you bulldoze me.I’m here to do a job, not be your punching bag.”

His eyes flicked to mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a spark of approval.But then he grunted and turned away, grabbing his shirt from the bench.“Good.I don’t have time for pushovers.”

I smiled faintly, tucking my notebook under my arm as I stood.“Glad to hear it.But just so you know, I’m not exactly known for being quiet when I have something to say.”

This time, he did smile.It was small, just a fleeting curve of his lips, but it was enough to make my pulse skip.“I’m counting on it,” he said, his tone almost teasing.“We’ll start with soccer.But not here.”He jerked his chin toward the door.“My office.Five minutes.”

I barely had time to nod before he strode past me, leaving me scrambling to gather my things.

I followed him, my steps quick to match his long strides, but my mind was still stuck on that brief, unexpected smile.It had transformed his face, softening the sharp angles.For a second, he hadn’t been the grumpy billionaire or the retired athlete.He’d just been a ridiculously attractive, infuriatingly guarded man.

Focus, Ariel.I tightened my grip on my notebook.This was a job, not a romance novel.

Sterling shoved open the glass doors to his office with one hand, barely glancing back at me.“Keep up, Hayes.I don’t like repeating myself.”

I rolled my eyes but bit back the retort on my tongue.“Noted,” I said instead, stepping inside.There was something about him, something that drew me in and made me want to unravel the mystery that was Sterling Nightfang.

The office was all modern lines and spotless panoramic windows.We looked down on the city like we were gods.It was as imposing and untouchable as its owner.

He dropped into his chair with a sigh, rubbing his temples.“Alright, hit me with your questions.But make it quick.”

I perched on the edge of the chair on the other side of his desk.I flipped open my notebook.“Quick?Sterling, this is an autobiography.It’s kind of a deep-dive project.”

He shot me a look that could’ve withered steel.“Then start with the shallow end.”

I leaned forward slightly, my voice soft and teasing.“Fine.What’s your favorite color?”

His eyebrows shot up.“What?”

“You heard me.Favorite color.It’s an easy one.”

He leaned back, arms crossed, studying me like I’d sprouted a second head.“Black.”

I scribbled it down.“Predictable.”

His scowl deepened.“You asked.”

“I did,” I agreed cheerfully.“Next question.What’s the most ridiculous rumor you’ve ever heard about yourself?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched.“That I bribed a referee to win the Champions League.”

I gasped in mock horror.“Did you?”

His glare could’ve melted glass.“No.”

I grinned.“Good.Because that would’ve made for a very awkward chapter.”

Something like amusement flickered in his eyes.“You’re annoying.”

“And yet, you haven’t fired me yet.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and fixed me with a look that was equal parts exasperation and curiosity.“You’re not what I expected.”

I tilted my head, my pen poised over my notebook.“Oh?And what did you expect?”

“Someone quieter.Less…you.”