I had a one-night stand with a stranger on vacation.

No promises. No reason to ever see him again.

Then I run (literally) into my towering, suit-wrapped mistake in an airport lounge.

Harrison Ashford.

Billionaire CEO of an aviation empire. Tall, tailored, and allergic to emotional availability. Also the guy who vanished the morning after our very memorable night like he was fleeing the scene of a crime.

Now he's imploding online after mouthing off about Scarlett Rush (yes, that Scarlett Rush—the pop star with a fandom that could topple governments). His company's bleeding money, the board's in full panic mode, and someone has decided the only person who can clean up his mess is…

Me.

I'm a crisis PR strategist. I fix disasters for a living. I do not fix the walking, talking disaster in a suit who left me on read in real life.

But Harrison wants me in his orbit—meetings, damage control, and way too many hours trapped on private flights where "professional distance" becomes a hilarious joke. He's all sharp suits and sharper comments, and every time he says my name like that, I forget I'm supposed to be mad.

I'm here to save his reputation.

I am not here to fall for my boss.

I am definitely not here to remember exactly how his mouth feels.

And yet.

Because the more I work for Harrison Ashford, the more I suspect there's a reason he disappeared.

And if I'm not careful, the next scandal won't be his.

It'll be ours.