3 His jest shall savour but a shallow wit, when thousands more weep than did laugh it ― WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Riding up in the elevator to a level before the top floor required Katharine to swipe her card on the console and punch in a code on the switchboard. When the glass doors closed, she studied her reflection. The image of a not-very-calm and composed professional, unlike her usual self, stared back at her. She wished she had taken the time to at least lose the high color and impatient, angry look in her eyes.

"This is Claire Douglas, Mr. Knight's secretary. She will take you to meet him," Katherine gestured to the desk situated outside the elevator.

Another shorter, blonde and peppy secretary asked her to wait in the lounge outside the big doors of the boss's inner sanctum. She took in the lush, red velvet, ankle-deep carpets decked with inviting sofas in softly burnished cream that invited one to daydream.

Probably designed to lull competitors and enemies into a false sense of security.

Her thoughts turned to the reclusive, enigmatic, and eccentric chairman of Knight Inc. who put even Howard Hughes to shame. Obsessively private despite his playboy status and notoriously infamous for being media-shy - as was evidenced by his non-file photo in Max's files - she felt a little wary about the upcoming meeting. But then a totally random thought crossed her mind.

If he was such a self-acclaimed loner, the number of affairs he'd been said to have was directly disproportional to his reputation.

She was so lost in her musings that she hadn't notice Claire's return who'd been trying to get her attention for some time.

"...Are you Ok, Ms. Banning?"

"I'm fine. Sorry, just taking in the impressive décor."

"It is, indeed. Please follow me now."

She was ushered inside the offices of the man himself and a sinking feeling invaded her stomach. Just seconds before, Cat had been awed and strangely nervous but she started to feel shaky, as she glanced at the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the huge mahogany desk. The city that never slept sprawled in the distance and being at such a magnificent height, she dimly registered the awesome view of the dirty harbor at one end and the elegant skyscrapers atop crowded streets at the other. Her quick glance took in the side walls adorned with heartbreaking beautiful paintings she would have been content to stare at all day long.

Huge waves tossing a lone sailboat. A village girl in front of her house with a sad expression. A riveting Jackson Pollock that aroused warmth and feelings of absolute chaos that oddly enough echoed inside her at that moment.

Too caught up in the abstract painting, Cat was distracted by the sound of trickling water playing in a ceramic fountain in the corner behind her. An angelic-looking boy pouring water from the well to an ethereal-looking girl stood beside him cupping her hands in front of him.

But even as she took in the room a memory flashed. It was gone as quickly as it had come. But before she could realize what had happened, the chair behind the desk was turning. She'd avoided looking in the direction of the raw field of magnetism and power as soon as she'd entered the room. But even as her heart sped up and the pit in her stomach intensified, she knew a feeling of dread so strong that she actually felt faint with it.

But then it was too late and she was staring down into his unbelievably, still handsome face.

"Catrina fucking Banning. So I take it hell has finally frozen over?"

He still called her name in that throaty cadence. Like brandy-soaked liqueur chocolate, she felt it all the way to her toes.

Even if there was a fucking in between my name.

She deserved that. Maybe, even more.

Eight years back he'd been a heartbreaker, but now he was a sign that yelled beware in block letters. He'd acquired a more predatory and dangerous streak that radiated off him in waves. Thick, dark blonde hair brushed with strands of gold sunlight kissed the nape of his neck. His broad forehead and straight nose showed no signs of having been broken in a long-ago bar fight. His mouth was a sensual assault on the senses. Shaped to invoke fantasies that led straight to the uncomfortable territory of...things best left alone. His ridiculously fringed long lashes shaded eyes so green, that it made the grassy landscape in the painting on the wall beside him, seem muddy. Brilliant, clever eyes, that were gleaming with mockery, anger, and something...she couldn't define.

"Alex..."

It took all of her focus and training to unfreeze herself from his hypnotic gaze. She knew she deserved it, but something told her he didn't care for submission and apologies at that moment. So she fought back in the only way she knew how.

"I see you changed your name."

Cat cleared her throat and sank down on the visitors' chair facing him without waiting for permission. She feared that her trembling limbs wouldn't support her.