Claiming What's Forbidden

The first time Selena Hart laid eyes on Ares King, he stood behind a wall of glass in the topmost floor of King Enterprises, looking more like a shadow carved from stone than a man. His arms were crossed behind his back, his tailored charcoal suit so sharp it could cut air, his back straight as if it carried an empire and maybe it did.

Everyone called him ruthless. Some whispered he was more legend than flesh. Billionaire CEO. Heir to an old-money dynasty. The man who crushed competitors with a smirk and never allowed anyone too close. Not his board. Not the press. Not even the woman he was rumored to be engaged to.

But Selena had no time for stories. Not when her mother's medical bills kept mounting. Not when she was barely surviving paycheck to paycheck. Today, she was here to do a job.

She smoothed the front of her modest blouse and stepped into the elevator, nerves fluttering like moths in her stomach. She'd never worked in a company this big before King Enterprises was less a business and more a universe. Her temp agency had warned her that the CEO's assistants never lasted more than three weeks. Some didn't last a day.

Selena wasn't afraid of hard work. She just needed this job to last long enough to keep her mother's treatment going.

As the elevator glided upward, she checked her reflection in the polished walls. Auburn curls tied back. A bit of gloss. Neatly pressed blazer. Not much, but she looked competent. Determined. Capable.

The elevator stopped at the top floor with a soft chime. Selena stepped out into a hallway that looked like a museum glass sculptures, marble floors, modern paintings lit with soft spotlights.

A sleek woman in red lipstick approached her.

"You must be the new temp," she said, voice clipped. "I'm Deborah. Mr. King's executive coordinator."

"Yes," Selena replied with a small smile. "Selena Hart."

Deborah gave her a once-over, lips twitching with something that might've been pity. "Follow me."

They walked through frosted glass doors that led to the executive office. The space was massive. Minimalist. Clean. And cold.

Then she saw him.

Ares King stood with his back still to them, staring out at the New York skyline, hands tucked behind him like he was waiting for a war to begin.

Deborah cleared her throat. "Mr. King, your new assistant is here."

He didn't turn.

"Leave her folder on the desk," he said. "You may go."

Deborah placed the file on a glass desk, gave Selena a look that said good luck surviving, and walked out.

Ares didn't move.

For a moment, the silence stretched so thin it felt like it might snap. Selena stood still, waiting. Her heart thumped, but she kept her posture straight.

Finally, he turned.

His face was every bit as devastating as the magazines claimed-sharp jaw, high cheekbones, piercing steel-gray eyes. But photos couldn't capture the way he moved, the aura of contained force and authority he carried like a second skin.

His gaze pinned her.

"You're the fourth one this month," he said.

Selena nodded once. "Yes, sir."

"I don't need someone who flirts. I don't need someone who cries. And I especially don't need someone who doesn't understand the meaning of confidentiality."

"I understand," she said evenly.

He walked toward her slowly, hands in his pockets, eyes raking her like he was trying to peel her apart and see if she'd break.

"And why should I keep you longer than the others?"

"Because I'm not here to flirt," she said. "I'm not here to cry. I'm here to work. I have no interest in anything else."

He stopped just in front of her. So close she could smell his cologne-something dark and expensive.

"What's your background?"

"I studied communications," she replied. "Worked reception and admin for three years. I've managed schedules, coordinated travel, and handled calls for up to six executives at once."

"Why temp?"

"Because I needed flexibility," she said carefully. "My mother is sick."

His expression didn't change. "So this is charity work for you?"

"No," she said, her voice low but firm. "This is survival. I'm good at what I do, Mr. King. I just need a chance."

Ares stared at her a moment longer.

Then he turned and walked back to his desk.

"You start now. Don't be late. Don't ask questions. And don't expect anyone to help you."

"Yes, sir."

Selena moved to the small desk outside his office and started logging in. Within minutes, her inbox was flooded with emails. Schedules, follow-ups, meetings, requests.

And so began the longest day of her life.

By the end of her first week, Selena had memorized Ares King's routine.

He arrived at 7:00 a.m. sharp. He hated coffee preferred green tea. He liked files on his desk before his meetings, emails printed and color coded, and silence when he was thinking. He responded to foolish questions with a glare that could chill lava.

But he never yelled. Never lost control. His fury, when it surfaced, was quiet-like a storm that hadn't broken yet but promised to destroy everything when it did.

Selena managed it. Every test. Every impossible request. She anticipated his needs, stayed ahead of his calendar, learned the names of every board member, and never once let her nerves show.

People started noticing.

"She's lasted longer than any of them," whispered one woman in the breakroom.

"She's too pretty," another murmured. "That never ends well around him."

Selena ignored it all. She kept her head down, her focus sharp. She didn't care what they thought. She wasn't here to chase fantasies.

But she couldn't deny the heat that sizzled in the air every time Ares passed too close. Couldn't ignore the way her pulse skipped when his voice dropped low, or how her breath caught when he stood behind her and asked for a file.

He was impossible not to notice.

And one night, everything shifted.

It was almost 9:00 p.m. Most of the office was dark. Selena was still at her desk, organizing notes from a major investor meeting. Her eyes burned from the screen, but she kept working.

The door behind her creaked.

She looked up-and froze.

Ares stood there, his tie loose, shirt sleeves rolled up. He looked tired. Uncharacteristically undone.

"You're still here," he said.

She nodded. "I wanted to finish up."

Ares stepped closer. "You've been staying late all week."

"I'm used to it."

"You don't complain."

"Not my style."

His gaze swept over her. "That's rare."

Silence stretched between them.

Then he said, almost absently, "Come in. I want to show you something."

Selena hesitated-but followed.

Inside his office, he stood by the window again. She joined him, staring at the glittering skyline. The city looked so alive, so full of stories.

"I built all this," he said quietly. "But there are days it feels like it owns me instead."

Selena turned to him. "That's because you gave it everything."

He looked at her then. Really looked.

"No one's ever said that to me."

She swallowed. Her heart pounded in her chest. "Maybe no one's ever really seen you."

Ares took a step closer.

"Do you?"

Selena's breath caught.

"Yes," she whispered.

The space between them dissolved.

His hand lifted to touch her cheek and just before he made contact, he stopped.

His jaw tightened.

"I can't," he muttered, turning away. "This is a mistake."

Selena's heart dropped. "I'm sorry-"

"No," he said harshly. "You didn't do anything. I did."

He walked to his desk, back rigid.

"You should go home."

Selena nodded slowly. "Good night, Mr. King."

She walked out, head held high, even as her chest ached.

Behind her, Ares stared out the window again, fists clenched at his sides haunted by a desire he could no longer deny.