Chapter 12 TWELVE
Sebastian’s POV
The file in my hand is a prop, pages blurring as her words hang in the air—“What are you sorry about?”—but I keep my gaze steady, watching her squirm under the weight of it. Lena Sawyer stands there in my office, her petite frame rigid with tension, her hazel eyes flashing a storm of green and gold. She’s a vision even in flats and that simple blouse—hair pulled back, a few strands escaping like they’re rebelling against her control. My chest tightens, that familiar pull I’ve been fighting since the club. But I lock it down. Professional. Always.
“Everything,” she says finally, her voice a mix of defiance and plea, arms crossing over her chest like armor. “I get that you are mad at me, but I will take any other kind of punishment, just not working with Sienna.”
Mad at her? The thought almost amuses me. If only she knew the half of it—the nights I’ve spent replaying her moans in the VIP room, the way her body arched under my hands. But punishment? No. This is business. Pure and calculated. I set the file down with a deliberate thud, leaning back against the desk, folding my arms to mirror her stance. “Oh, about that. I figured that since Sienna is a very amazing marketing strategist, it would be better if you both collaborated on this project.”
Her face crumples, shock widening those expressive eyes. “No, I can’t work with her.”
I tilt my head, genuinely curious now. There’s fire in her voice, raw and unfiltered—the same spark that edged her out in the hiring. “Why not? She’s very innovative and creative,” I say, keeping my tone even, probing. Sienna’s portfolio is solid; pairing them could yield gold. But Lena’s reaction… it’s personal. Deeper than professional rivalry.
“I don’t care, Sebastian.” She drops the formalities, my name slipping from her lips like a challenge, her hands gesturing wildly. “She’s just… too much to deal with. I don’t want to work with her. Look, I know I’ve been a little difficult and all, but you really didn’t have to do that.”
A laugh threatens to escape, but I swallow it. Difficult? She’s a whirlwind—storming my office, defying my secretary, that ankle still bandaged from her recklessness last night at Onyx. I saw her there, limping in the alley, and it took everything not to drag her home again. But difficult? Understatement. “You think I’m punishing you by bringing Sienna into the project?”
“Isn’t that it?” She steps closer, her scent—something fresh, like vanilla and rain—wafting over me. “I mean, you’re good at frustrating me. Sienna is a headache. Two plus two equals four.”
Her math is adorable, flawed but earnest. I push off the desk, unable to resist closing the distance between us. The office shrinks, the city view fading as I tower over her, close enough to see the pulse jumping in her throat. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Lena. I want what’s best for my company. I couldn’t care less if Sienna is a problem for you.”
Her lips part, a soft gasp escaping. “No, Sebastian. You didn’t mean that.”
I scoff, the sound rougher than intended, and take another step, backing her toward the window without touching her. The air crackles, tension thick as fog. She doesn’t retreat, chin lifting in that defiant way that makes my blood heat. “Why don’t you like Sienna?”
She appears to think for a moment. “She’s a difficult person to work with. I can’t deal with her.” Her voice wavers, but her eyes hold mine, fierce.
“Are you saying you’ve worked together before?” I press, sensing the crack in her armor. There’s history here, something raw.
“No, I… I just know we’ll make a bad team. Sebastian, please, take her out of the project.” Her plea is softer now, almost vulnerable, her hands unclenching at her sides.
I shake my head, firm. “I decide who stays and who leaves, and neither of you is leaving.”
“Sebastian!”
“Lena, we’re done here. You and Sienna are working on the project together. My decision is final.” My voice is steel, the CEO mask slipping fully into place. No room for negotiation. This pairing will push boundaries and force excellence. Personal drama be damned.
“But, Seb—”
“No buts, no questions. I will not hear a thing again about this. Is that understood?” I cut her off, my tone brooking no argument, eyes locked on hers.
She goes quiet, lips pressing into a thin line, the fight draining but not gone. I can see it simmering, that phoenix ready to rise. But she needs to learn the chain of command.
I demand a reply, stepping even closer, our breaths mingling. “Is that understood?”
“Yes, Sebastian.”
“Good.”