Wren Calloway ironed her blazer three times before her first day.

She told herself it was nerves. It was preparation. It was absolutely not because she was about to walk into the office of the most powerful man in Chicago and ask him to give her a chance.

Nathaniel Voss built his empire the same way his father did — with relentless precision, iron control, and zero tolerance for anything that didn't earn its place. He doesn't do small talk. He doesn't do warmth. And he ***certainly***doesn't do distraction.

Then, Wren sits across his desk and looks him dead in the eye and doesn't flinch.

She's fresh out of college, hopelesslysmall-town, and completely wrong for his world. She's also the most capable person he's hired in years, and the only one who has ever taped his one-word emails to her monitor like trophies. He finds it infuriating. He finds her infuriating. He finds himself thinking about her at hours he should be thinking about quarterly projections.

The line between professional and personal has never felt so inconvenient.

But Wren Calloway didn't iron that blazer three times to back down from anything?including a cold, impossible, devastatingly attractive billionaire who doesn't know what to do with a woman who refuses to be intimidated by him.

Seventy Degrees

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