Chapter 70 Vignette 64
I wore my sharpest smile. The one I practiced in the mirror. The one that didn’t shake.
It wasn’t the view of the city skyline from the penthouse that stole my breath. It was the man leaning against the edge of the sleek glass desk, shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms, the top button of his black shirt undone like he couldn’t be bothered to pretend he was just another corporate type.
My boyfriend said his boss was cold, ruthless and focused.
But standing in front of him now, I wasn’t sure how “cold” could burn like this.
His eyes landed on me slowly, dragging like smoke. “So… you're the one he can't stop talking about.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing witty came. Not even polite. Just a nod and a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
He pushed off the desk, walking toward me with an elegance that made my heels feel clunky. I could hear the soft click of every step against the marble floor.
“I wasn’t expecting company this late,” he said, voice calm but edged. “Your boyfriend said you had something urgent to drop off?”
I blinked. “Yes. His… presentation notes. He left them.”
He didn’t glance at the folder I handed him. He just took it, set it aside on the counter behind him, and kept his eyes on me. Unapologetically. Thoroughly.
It wasn’t just how he looked at me. It was how I felt under it. Like he saw something I hadn’t meant to offer.
“You're nervous.”
“I’m not,” I lied.
“You are,” he replied simply, folding his arms. “Which begs the question… why?”
I swallowed hard.
Because you're looking at me like you could ruin me with a whisper. Because for weeks I’ve heard your name in stories that made you sound like a legend. Because my boyfriend warned me to stay far, far away from you.
Because part of me… wanted to taste what you were really like.
“I should go,” I said, turning toward the door.
He didn’t move to stop me, his voice did. Quiet. Measured. “What has he told you about me?”
I hesitated. “That you don’t tolerate mistakes.”
A pause.
“That’s true.” Another slow step toward me. “But I reward initiative. Confidence. Obedience.”
I looked back. His gaze pinned me in place like gravity.
“Does he know you came here tonight?” he asked, softer now.
“Yes.” But it sounded unsure even to me.
And then… he smiled. Barely. But it tilted something inside me off balance.
The silence stretched too long. Too deep. My skin was buzzing, flushed from heat that wasn’t in the room’s temperature.
His eyes dipped once, almost lazily, to my exposed cleavage. I should've noticed his growing lust and simply walked away. But the slow rise and fall of my breath had already betrayed me.
“This is wrong,” I whispered.
“The door is right there. You can leave if you want.”
But I didn’t move.
And neither did he.
Not until his hand lifted… slow, deliberate… and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. His fingers were warm, grazing my skin like something reverent. I clenched my thighs together.
“You’re shaking.”
“No, I’m not.” My voice was barely audible.
He leaned in just slightly, his breath touching my jaw. “You're in my territory. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
His lips almost touched mine. “I could do whatever I want with you and no one will dare raise a voice.”
“I… I...”
He paused. His gaze burned into mine. “Save your words for when I undress you and treat you in ways your boyfriend can never.”
My heart flinched. His hand moved to the back of my neck, holding me there… gentle, but firm.
The elevator chimed somewhere down the hall, distant, ignored.
“This is your only chance to leave,” he said.
I didn’t take it.
Instead, I whispered, “He trusts me.”
“And that’s the problem.” He said and kissed me.
I waited for a beat and…
God help me, I kissed him back.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was hunger restrained. It was a fire barely kept under control, and every second it grew closer to consuming us both.
When his hands cupped my face and tilted my head just right, I moaned into his mouth, ashamed of how much I wanted this, terrified by how much I no longer cared about my boyfriend.
His lips dragged down to my throat, lingering near my collarbone before he pulled away, leaving me breathless and burning.
“Dont worry, this is not a mistake,” he said, his voice rough now.
But he wasn’t stopping.
He walked past me, toward the hallway leading to the penthouse suite.
I stood frozen. Guilt washing through me, sticky and slow.
“Are you coming?” he asked, not looking back.
The city lights behind the windows blurred like watercolor.
I shouldn’t have followed him.
But I did.
He stood by the door, waiting for me to step in, one hand on the door knob.
I stepped in and he did too, releasing the door.
The moment the door clicked shut behind us… everything else faded to black.