After straightening my skirt and smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles in my jacket, I took my first step into the building I was banned from three years ago. It gave me a bit of confidence to know that nobody here would recognize me as the woman who broke their boss's heart three years prior. My hair was no longer red and it was much shorter than it was back then.

There was a perfectly groomed fashionable woman behind the reception. Moonlighting as a model for Vogue?

She was wearing a clinging dress with her blonde hair slicked over one shoulder. She had glittery eyeshadow all over her eyes, black mascara all over her lashes, foundation all over her face and scarlet lipstick smeared on her lips.

Stop with the cynicism!

Image, I reminded myself, was everything, and he could afford whatever image he chose to project on planet Earth.

"May I help you?" the receptionist asked as I entered the door and walked up to the desk. The receptionist, whose nameplate read Christa, seemed loaded with contempt at just the appearance of me.

I mentally rolled my eyes and ignored the look.

"Katiana Bennett. I have an appointment with—" I hesitated fractionally. This was business, not personal—"Mr Styles." It was surprisingly not hard to get an appointment with him because his secretary was new and knew nothing about our previous relationship.

The answering smile held polite warmth...practised, and tuned up or down according to client importance. In this instance, down a notch.

"Mr Styles is unavoidably detained in a conference." She indicated the bay of comfortable chairs. If you'd care to take a seat?"

I felt my stomach tighten with nervous tension. Now that I am here, I wanted it over and done with.

Each passing minute seemed like ten, and I had to make a conscious effort not to constantly check my watch. I idly flipped the pages of a complimentary magazine, with no recollection of absorbing script or pictures.

How long would I have to wait?

Was he stretching out the time to deliberately unnerve me?

If I could walk out of here, I thought darkly...Yet doing so would achieve nothing. And this wasn't about me, I reminded myself.

"Ms. Bennett."

I glanced up at the sound of my name and saw the receptionist move out from the console.

"Mr Styles will see you now. Take the elevator..."

I lifted my hands to stop her. "I know where it is."

I walked straight to the elevator and pressed the button that would lead to my salvation. Thank God, the elevator was empty all the way up. I don't think I could manage if someone recognized me.

Oh, come on, Kat! You're here for a job, so what if someone recognized you?

Stand tall and project a semblance of aloof confidence. The latter was almost impossible, given the state of my nerves.

I've seen his image on the television screen, in newspapers and photographs in glossy magazines. But it was years since I had come face-to-face with him.

Would he look the same?

Did he still have those eyes that bore through you as if he had x-ray vision? Did he still workout out and go to the gym? Did he still have the smile of an angel?

The silent query arose in a moment of sheer hysteria, and I beat it down as the elevator door opened.

A short black woman greeted me at the elevator with a smile. "Ms. Bennett?"

I nodded. "Yes. That's me."

"Okay. Follow me." I wanted to tell her that I knew where his office was but I remained quiet and followed her along a wide passageway to the set of imposing double doors.

Calm. I had to remain calm and in control.

Who am I kidding? I was as nervous as a kitten about to walk on hot coals, and at that moment I hated him, myself...most of all I hated the situation which had brought me here.

The woman placed a discreet knock on one of the doors, turned the knob and pushed the door open, announced my presence with smooth efficiency, then retreated.

I stood frozen, limbless, as I focused on the dark-suited figure standing silhouetted against the wide floor-to-ceiling plate glass.

From this distance, with the late afternoon light behind him, it was difficult to define his expression.

Then he turned towards me, and the breath caught in my throat.

Tall, with an admirable breadth of shoulder, he projected an enviable aura of power most men coveted, but few possessed. His dark hair was thick and heavy around his head, beautifully cut in a low fade.

Well-defined facial bone structure, harshly chiselled, portrayed an elemental ruthlessness that visibly warned he was a force to be reckoned with in any arena.

He looked the same, only more resolute.

"Come in and shut the door." His drawl held a hint of cynicism, his appraisal ruthlessly unequivocal as he took in my status.

What happened to hello? But what did I expect...polite civility?

"You want my help," he prompted with silky smoothness and I caught the glitter of anger in those brilliant blue eyes. It gave him no pleasure to see me here.

"Yes," I answered honestly. It's not like I was here to beg for his forgiveness, I was here to beg for a job.

Would he make me beg? Could he? After all, I did break his heart and made sure he broke mine equally. So if it came to it.

I would.

For Kieran.

Survival.

Because I had no choice.

"I need money." Oh, hell, this was hard. "To pay some debts."

"Money?" he asked with his eyebrows raised.

I shook my head, "Well, not money. I need a job."

"And you think I can give you one?" His stare was driving me crazy. Why did he have to look at me with such hatred?

I looked away from the brooding power of his gaze. I've never been looked at before with such intent, stormy irritation. I felt frighteningly disturbed and I had no idea why he was staring at me like that.

Probably because you broke his heart.

I glanced up again because I couldn't help doing so and because we were having a conversation. I couldn't possibly let him know that he was intimidating me.

His lips suddenly tightened grimly, the brooding eyes narrowing and lancing over me swiftly. My heart simply took off at racing speed and gave an alarming little extra skip as he frowned even more.

I curled my hands into fists, "I'm blacklisted with every employment agency in town. No one wants to hire me after what happened three years ago." he remained silent, still looking at me. So I did what I said I would. I begged. "I really need a job. Things have been really hard these past few years. I had to quit my job last week." And then build up the courage to come here.

"So you're no longer dancing on the polls?" he asked.

I frowned. He knew about my job at the strip club. Of course, he knew, the man was filthy rich and he had friends all over the city.

I shook my head. "I was never a stripper. I was a waiter."

"Whatever you say," he responded sarcastically.

Of course, he didn't believe me. I ignored his response. "I was hoping you could give me a job in one of your subsidiaries. Any job would be better than going back to the strip crib."

"We don't have any vacancies at the moment."

My heart dropped. "Oh!" I knew that could have been a possibility but I tried not to think about it. Why would I? He owned hundreds of small businesses, there must be one that has a vacancy, or so I thought.

Maybe he just didn't want me working for him. Maybe he wanted me to suffer for breaking up with him.

"Ugh. Well, I guess. I'll look somewhere else." I got up from the chair and turned to leave.

I was at the door when he shouted, "Stop!"

I slowly turned and looked at him hoping he'd changed his mind, "Yes,"

"I have one opening. I'm not sure if it's the type of job you're looking for."

"I'll do it. As long as it pays bills, I'll do it. I really need a job." I pled. I told Andrew I wasn't coming back so If I didn't get this job I was doomed. Kieran was asthmatic and his medical bills were sky-high. Sometimes I can barely even afford to pay them. My landlord put an extra fifty dollars on the rent and it set everything back. I really needed this job. "I don't care what type of job it is. I just really need a job." I repeated hoping that my repetition would somehow change his mind.

However, I highly doubt it. He wasn't the same man I dated three years ago. He wasn't the same man I loved with my entire heart. He was different. He changed after the breakup. The media called him cold and calculating. He was never like that before we broke up. I'm the reason for his new demeanour. It was all my fault. But I didn't have a choice back then.

I had to break up with him.

"What's the job?" I asked.

"Mr. Brown, my housekeeper's husband, had a heart attack recently and so Mrs Brown has retired to take care of her husband. I need a new housekeeper. The job is yours if you want it."

The job is yours if you want it. I repeated the phrase in my mind.

Do I want to be my ex-boyfriend's housekeeper?

No.

Do I desperately need a job?

Yes.

I started to silently recite a number in my head. The exact amount of money I owed the bank. It would be years before I would be able to come up with a sum like that, especially without a job.

No matter how embarrassing it's going to be to work as my ex's housekeeper. There was far more at stake than her professional persona now.

Kieran

Just thinking about my little boy, nearly three months shy of his third birthday, made me know that the choices and the sacrifices I made were for a damn good purpose. Taking care of him, and protecting his future, had to take priority.

I'd do anything to protect him. Anything.

I fixed her eyes firmly on the man ahead, the man who had no idea that he was the father of my child.

"I'd like to be your new housekeeper, Holden."