Chapter 15

ZACH

Zach began his prepared remarks as he stared out over a sea of faces who all wanted him to fail. The reporters, because it would make him more newsworthy, his board because then they could be rid of him

and could then install someone more puppet-y and to their liking— completely unaware that Zach was half a puppet as it was.

He frowned and inhaled for emphasis, at the same times he’d rehearsed before, and felt Stella move below.

Hidden by the podium, she’d wrapped a hand wrapped around his suited ankle, just to fuck with him.

He took an inhale—now at the wrong time—and went on.

“Of course, I would never encourage anyone at Blackwood Industries to do anything illegal,” he continued in a tone of voice that sounded entirely non-apologetic, as the hand on his ankle moved higher, and he felt the sharp pinprick of a knife’s tip against his calf.

Stella had a knife on her. Of course, she did. More than one, most likely.

He shifted his weight to snap the toes of his unthreatened foot down quickly in warning—although he wouldn’t have minded if he’d caught her fingers.

The knife disappeared, and she grabbed both of his legs and suddenly shoved. Goddammit, Stella! He absorbed the blow like he absorbed everything else in his life and kept going.

“Certain things said in private confidence, should be kept that way.” He was almost done now. He’d have thrown the board enough bones to be satisfied he was taking the situation as seriously as it demanded—and soon they’d be chewing themselves to bits, with Alastair watching.

Stella placed a hand on each of his thighs, and he expected her to push him again, surely to try to bring him tumbling down at the absolute worst possible moment. It was almost impossibly distracting, especially as her hands began wandering up. He tensed his muscles, letting her know he was aware she was there, and that she wouldn’t be able to get away with a thing —and then her hands disappeared, only to reappear higher half a second later when he felt her slowly running the tip of her knife down the teeth of his suit slack’s closed fly.

He stopped speaking, this time adding emphasis where it didn’t belong, as a wave of feelings crashed through him, erasing his speech in their wake. He knew she was still just fucking with him, trying to ruin his moment by riling him, but none of that knowledge stopped his blood from sinking at the thought of her hands being so close to his cock. He knew he was getting hard, and he was fairly sure she wouldn’t stab him—his dick trusted her, even if the rest of him told it not to.

He cleared his throat hoarsely and continued. “We’ll be looking into this breach immediately.” And then, staring out at the wall of faces, he added, “And I will be taking a two-week vacation, starting now,” which had not been in any rehearsal of his speech before. He pointed to the doors at the back of the room. “Leave now, the lot of you.”

Reporters shouted questions over one another, and board members tried to make their way forward to see him. He glanced meaningfully at Alastair, whose men started purposefully crowding people who didn’t get the hint. He maintained his stony silence in the interim until the last of them were gone and he could hit the button turning the glass walls dark again.

“Are you going to let me come out?” Stella asked, her tone slightly mocking, as he stepped away from the podium and adjusted himself. She emerged, crawling out with a knife between her teeth, eyes flashing with mischief. “I was prepared to cut my way out of there, you know.”

“And I was prepared to let you. Through the fabric, at least.” She’d been right there, there was no point in denying his hard-on. He stood in front of her with his hands behind his back, like she was something he shouldn’t touch.

Which was true, right? They’d both said goodbyes the prior night, and nothing had changed… except for the fact that she was here, now, and he’d just given himself a surprise two weeks off.

She looked around the room for other exits. “People are still going to notice me leaving here. Unless you trust every single other person on this floor.”

Zach grunted, and walked back to the solid wall behind him, the only one that hadn’t changed opacity, and set his hand on a panel in a certain spot—the panel slid back, revealing a narrow path. “When you build skyscrapers from scratch, sometimes you get to put in secret passages.” He stepped into the hallway and indicated she should follow him.

She did, but now she was squinting in anger. “You mean I didn’t have to hide?”

“I wanted you where I could see you.” Like always.

She strode off ahead of him, looking around, and touching the walls before frowning back at him. “You mean you didn’t trust me on my own inside your building.”

“Just like you don’t trust me with your pack,” he said, with a brusque shrug. He brushed past her and led her to the nondescript door that let them out near a service elevator.