Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
I snap at the director, who was speaking. He flinches and starts again, his eyes darting nervously. I let him flounder. Better his fear than my distraction exposed.
By Friday, the whole floor is walking on eggshells. They know I’m hunting for weakness. They don’t know why. None of them realize the storm has nothing to do with them and everything to do with the woman down the hall.
She stays late again that night. I stay too, telling myself it’s a coincidence. She works under the glow of her lamp, her face bent toward the ledger, and I can’t look away. The desire to call her in nearly breaks me. I want to pull her across my desk, silence the questions in her eyes with my mouth, remind myself that she is just another woman I can take and discard.
Instead, I sit in the dark and remind myself she is an employee.
The building is emptying, the air thinner without the hum of voices. She stands near her desk, laughing at something on her phone, and I feel a twist in my chest sharp enough to make me clench my jaw.
One of my junior analysts, barely out of school, still green around the edges, stops by her office. He leans a hand on her doorframe, too casual, too familiar. I watch the way she tilts her face up, smiles politely, tucks her hair behind her ear as she listens. There is absolutely nothing inappropriate about the interaction. Nothing obvious, anyway. And yet, heat surges through me so fast it shocks me.
A streak of hot, possessive jealousy shoots through me.
Before I know it, I’m out of my chair, crossing the floor. The kid sees me coming. He straightens, pulls his hand back from the doorframe, but it’s too late.
“Step away,” I say. My voice is quiet, but my employees know that I’m less dangerous when I’m shouting.
He freezes. His eyes widen, darting to Mari, then back to me. He knows who I am. Not just the CEO. Not just the boss. He knows the truth, the thing whispered in the corridors, the shadow that hangs over this building whether they acknowledge it or not.
“I—I was just—” he stammers.
“You were just putting your hand where it doesn’t belong,” I cut him off. I take one step closer, close enough that he has to tilt his head back to meet my eyes. “Do you enjoy working here?”
His throat bobs. “Y-yes, sir.”
“Then hear me once. If you value your position, your fingers, your life—you do not speak to her again unless it is strictly business.”
The color drains from his face. He nods so fast he looks like he might break his neck. “Understood.”
“Good. Now get out of my sight.”
He practically stumbles backward, muttering an apology as he retreats down the hall. His footsteps echo, quick and clumsy, until they fade into the elevator.
I turn back, expecting relief. Instead, I find her eyes blazing.
Mari stands behind her desk, arms crossed, fury in every line of her body. “What the hell was that?”
I meet her stare without flinching. “Discipline.”
“Discipline?” Her voice rises, sharp and incredulous. “He was asking me about a report. That’s it. You humiliated him for no reason.”
I step into her office, closing the distance, my presence filling the room the way it always does. “If a man stands in your doorway with his hand on the doorframe, laughing like you’re his entertainment, it’s not business. It’s a mistake. And I don’t tolerate mistakes.”
Her cheeks flush, but it’s not embarrassment. It’s anger. She leans forward, palms flat on the desk. “You don’t get to decide who I talk to and who I don’t.”
I let the silence stretch, heavy and suffocating. I can feel the heat between us, sharp as it had been in that hotel room, but this time it’s tangled with defiance. She isn’t scared of me. She’s furious with me.
And God help me, I like it.
“You’ll thank me later,” I say finally. My voice comes out lower, rougher than I intend.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffs. “You’re being an ass just for the sake of being an ass.”
The air crackles between us, charged and dangerous. I could push. Could lean in, remind her of the way she begged for me with her body, strip away that anger until it turns into something else entirely. But I don’t. I can’t. Because the truth cuts deeper than either of us are ready for.
She isn’t just another employee. I’m becoming dangerously obsessed with her.
I pull back, force my face blank. “Go home, Ms. Gonzales.”
Her jaw tightens. For a second, I think she might argue again but she only shakes her head, gathers her things, and walks past me without another word.
5
MARI
Numbers have always been clean to me. They don’t lie, don’t spin half-truths, don’t hide behind smiles or excuses. They lay themselves bare, and if you know how to read them, you can unravel all their secrets.