Chapter 181

Chapter 181
Natalie's POV

It was early November when Josie stopped by Gray Industries on a typical weekend to continue her executive training. As she was leaving, we happened to share an elevator. She leaned close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Okay, so after seeing how protective Elliot got about your ankle situation. I was expecting some major developments by now. What's the holdup?"

I sighed, then managed a hopeful smile. "Honestly? I think something might be shifting between us. I can't say for sure, but maybe... just maybe there'll be news soon."

Josie's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Oh, come on, you have to give me more than that!"

"I'll do my best," I replied, though internally I wasn't quite as confident as I appeared.

The truth was, my pursuit of Elliot Gray seemed stuck at a maddening threshold. After the ankle incident, I'd thought we were finally making real progress—his protective concern, the way he'd carried me, it felt like a breakthrough. I'd been ready to confess my feelings, to push us over that final line.

But instead, he'd retreated into that familiar pattern of closeness followed by distance, leaving me stranded in this romantic limbo where we seemed perpetually one step away from something real.

A week later, I was sick of waiting around. Sitting in my office staring at spreadsheets wasn't going to change anything with Elliot. I needed to do something—something that would finally get his attention.

The perfect opportunity walked right into my lap in the form of a Hughes Enterprises meeting. My secretary called to tell me their VP had bailed, sending their Operations Director instead—Craig Hughes.

I knew that name, and not for good reasons. Every woman in Manhattan business circles had heard the whispers about Craig Hughes: smooth talker, total creep, and rumored to slip things into drinks during "business dinners." Daddy's money had kept him out of real trouble, but it couldn't stop people from talking.

When my secretary warned me about the personnel change, I just smiled and said I'd take the meeting myself.

"Ms. Quinn, are you sure about this?" She looked worried. "I could easily reschedule for when their VP is back."

"Don't bother," I said, my mind already working. "This contract is too important to put off. Just keep your phone handy during the meeting, okay?"

Half an hour later, I arrived at the Hughes Enterprises conference room—all glass and leather with one of those Manhattan views that executives think make them look important. Craig stood up when I walked in, and I watched his face go from surprised to something that made my skin crawl.

"Ms. Quinn," he said, reaching out to shake my hand like we were old friends. "Well, this is a nice surprise. I was expecting one of your people."

I shook his hand quickly and let go. "Change of plans, Mr. Hughes. I wanted to handle the final details myself."

I could feel his eyes on me as I sat down—not the professional once-over you'd expect in a business meeting, but something that made me want to check if my blouse was buttoned properly.

My secretary noticed too; she was practically rigid as she set the contracts down beside me.

The business wrapped up fast—twenty minutes of finalizing pre-negotiated terms. Then came the awkward small talk portion I'd been dreading.

Craig poured tea for both of us. "No need to rush off now that the boring stuff's done. We should get to know each other better."

My secretary shifted nervously. "Ms. Quinn, we should go. You have that Gray Industries meeting coming up."

Right on cue, my phone buzzed with a text from Elliot: Where are you? Meeting starts in 15.

God, I loved good timing. I looked at my secretary and kept my voice casual but clear. "Call Elliot. Tell him I'm meeting with Craig Hughes from Hughes Enterprises. Let him decide if he wants to wait."

Her eyes widened—she got it. "Are you sure about that, Ms. Quinn?"

"Absolutely," I said, watching her head for the door to make the call.

Craig was busy going over something with his assistant and completely missed our little exchange. When he turned back to me, his gaze went straight to my untouched teacup.

"Tea's getting cold, Ms. Quinn."

I lifted the cup without drinking. "Just letting it cool."

The minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness. I kept one eye on my watch, calculating how long it would take Elliot to arrive if he took my secretary's message seriously. My other focus was on maintaining the delicate pretense that I was oblivious to Craig's intentions.

Finally, when I judged enough time had passed, I raised the cup to my lips and took the smallest possible sip—just enough to create the impression I'd consumed some, not enough to cause serious effects.

Craig visibly relaxed, his eyes taking on that calculating gleam I'd seen too many times in predatory men. He leaned forward, already preparing for whatever he thought would happen next.

But before he could speak, the conference room door burst open with enough force to make both of us jump.

Elliot appeared in the doorway looking like he was barely keeping it together. His eyes swept the room, paused on the teacup in my hand, then fixed on Craig with a look that could freeze hell over.

"We're done here," Elliot said, his voice deadly quiet. "Partnership's canceled, Craig Hughes. Get out."

Craig looked like someone had just slapped him. "Mr. Gray? What the hell—"

Michael showed up with security before Craig could finish. They had him and his assistant out the door in under thirty seconds, no arguments allowed.

The door clicked shut, and suddenly it was just Elliot and me. The look he gave me made my stomach flip—not in a good way.

"Natalie." His voice was sharp enough to cut glass. "You met with Craig Hughes. Alone."

I'd never heard him use that tone with me before. Instead of explaining, I held up the teacup. "I drank some tea," I said, meeting his stare head-on. "So what are you going to do about it?"

The drug was already working—I could feel the flush creeping up my neck, warmth spreading across my face. Not enough to knock me out, but enough that he'd notice. Enough to prove my point.

"What am I going to—" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes taking in my flushed cheeks. Then he was moving, crossing the room in three quick steps and pulling me up from the chair. His hands shook slightly when they touched my skin.

The next thing I knew, I was in his arms, being carried out of the conference room. Michael was waiting in the hallway, visibly relieved when he saw us emerge.

"Car's ready, sir," he said, leading the way to the elevator.

The moment we were in the backseat, Elliot gave Michael instructions to drive, his voice clipped with barely contained emotion. I noticed we weren't heading toward any hospital, and I couldn't help but smile.

"This doesn't look like the way to the ER," I observed casually, looking up at him from my position in his lap. "Are you that angry about me taking an unauthorized meeting? Or perhaps..." I traced a finger along his sleeve, feeling bold despite the circumstances. "...you're planning to handle this yourself?"

Elliot's grip on my wrist tightened, preventing further movement. He didn't answer, just stared straight ahead as Michael drove at alarming speed through Manhattan traffic.

Minutes later, we pulled up to a luxury apartment building I'd never seen before. Elliot carried me inside without a word, into the elevator, and up to what appeared to be the penthouse level.

The uncomfortable warmth beneath my skin was intensifying. I'd misjudged slightly—even the small amount I'd consumed was potent. I dug my nails into my palm, fighting the sensation.

"If you don't want to help me, just put me down. I'll get myself to a hospital," I said, struggling against his hold with what strength I had left.

His response was to tighten his grip as the elevator doors opened. He carried me into an elegantly furnished apartment with cool, minimalist décor—clearly his personal space, not some corporate accommodation.

When he finally set me down, it was onto a large bed in what was unmistakably the master bedroom. I bounced slightly on the mattress, looking up at him with genuine surprise. This wasn't what I'd expected—I'd thought maybe a guest room, or a couch while he called a doctor.

Elliot stood at the foot of the bed, his expression unreadable as he looked down at me. The silence between us crackled with tension, and I realized that my little scheme had worked better than I'd anticipated.