The morning light slipped through Sophia's huge windows, casting lines across the shiny concrete floor. Chloe sat curled up on the sofa, wrapped in a soft cashmere throw, feeling empty inside. Sleep had been impossible, her mind stuck on betrayal and shame.
Sophia, already in a crisp power suit, set a hot mug of coffee on the table next to her. "Drink this. Then maybe take a walk outside? Just around the block. Staying inside won't help."
Chloe nodded without feeling. Fresh air sounded okay. Anything to break the heavy thoughts in her head. Sophia was already on a call, her voice strong and bossy, ripping into someone on the other end. Chloe left the apartment without a sound.
The lobby downstairs was cool and quiet, so different from the mess in her heart. Shiny marble floors, weird art on the walls, and a polite concierge giving her a small nod. She walked around for a bit, the city sounds soft behind thick glass, then decided to go back up. Enough air. She pressed the elevator button.
A soft chime rang. The shiny steel doors opened.
Her breath stopped. Standing alone inside was Julian Devereux.
He looked sharper than on stage or in the busy conference room. More intense. His dark suit was perfect, his grey eyes striking and locked on her right away. There was a hint of knowing in his look, but his face stayed blank, in control.
He didn't move, just held the door open with one hand, like a silent invite. Or maybe an order.
Her feet moved before her mind did. She stepped in, the doors closing with a quiet hiss, trapping them in the fancy, small space.
The silence was heavy, full of tension. Chloe stared at the shiny doors, feeling him next to her. The faint smell of pricey cologne and something purely him filled the air.
She pressed the button for floor 45, her finger shaking a little.
"Richard Sterling," Julian's voice cut through, deep and strong, "is an idiot."
Chloe jumped a bit, turning her head to glance at him. His look wasn't kind; it was cold, studying her.
"He threw away his best treasure," he said, his eyes moving over her, from her messy hair to the borrowed slippers Sophia lent her. It wasn't a creepy stare, but it felt just as deep, like he saw right through her.
Her skin tingled. Shame mixed with a weird, sudden urge to fight back.
The elevator moved up smoothly, quietly counting the floors. Forty. Forty-one.
As it got close to her floor, just before the chime, he moved. Not just a touch on her arm like she'd remembered from last night's chaos. He shifted, blocking her way to the door, closing the gap between them in a flash.
His presence was too much. He was taller than she thought, full of power and raw energy. He put a hand flat on the elevator wall by her head, trapping her.
"I saw your strength tonight, Ms. Beaumont," he whispered, his voice low and vibrating through her. His stare held hers, fierce and steady. "Sterling's loss could be my win."
The air buzzed. Being so close made her dizzy. Her heart pounded hard, like a scared bird in a cage.
Before she could think, before she could breathe, his other hand slid around her waist, pulling her tight against his firm body. The shock of his touch hit her like lightning, scary but thrilling.
His lips crashed onto hers. It wasn't soft. It wasn't careful. It was a takeover, a mark. Hot, hungry, driven by the same fierce energy he gave off. His tongue pushed into her mouth, tasting of coffee and control, stealing her breath.
A small gasp slipped out, lost in his kiss. Her hands went to his chest to push him away, but instead, her fingers gripped the smooth fabric of his suit, holding on.
He kissed her harder, tilting her head back, taking full control. His hand moved from her waist, down over her hip, bunching up the silk robe Sophia had lent her. His fingers grazed the bare skin of her thigh, sending hot shivers up her spine.
He pulled back from the kiss just to drag his hot, wet lips down her jaw, along the soft skin of her neck. Chloe arched without thinking, her mind spinning. This was crazy. This was the enemy. The man Richard feared most.
And yet, the raw, burning need rushing through her was terrifying. A reaction from shock, anger, shame, and this man's pure, dangerous pull.
His hand slid higher, under the robe, his cool fingers brushing the lace of her panties. He didn't wait, slipping beneath the fabric, finding her slick, aching heat. Chloe gasped again, her legs almost giving out.
He pressed two fingers against her sensitive bud, rubbing with firm, deliberate strokes, watching her face with those sharp grey eyes. Pleasure, wild and wrong, exploded through her.
"You feel like you're breaking," he breathed against her ear, his hot breath making her shiver. "But you taste like rebellion."
He moved his fingers faster, a steady beat matching the racing of her pulse. She bit her lip to stop a cry, her hips rocking against his hand without her control.
He dipped his head again, claiming her mouth in another rough kiss while his fingers worked her into a frenzy. The world shrank to this tiny elevator, to the heat of his body, the force of his lips, the mind-blowing friction between her thighs.
She was so close, the edge right there. The tight knot in her core begged to snap.
But his fingers didn't stop. They pushed deeper, curling inside her, finding that perfect spot that made her vision blur. His thumb circled her clit with ruthless precision, driving her higher, her body trembling under his touch. Her breath came in short, desperate pants, her nails digging into his suit as she clung to him. The heat built, unbearable, her inner walls clenching around his fingers, slick and needy. Every stroke was a tease, a promise, dragging her closer to shattering.
The elevator chimed softly. Floor 45.
Julian pulled back, his breathing a bit uneven, his eyes dark with raw heat. His fingers paused inside her, still buried deep, not pulling out right away. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear, the closeness more shocking than anything.
"Don't let them win," he growled low, his voice full of danger and promise.
He stepped back suddenly, fixing his suit like nothing happened, though the fire in his eyes stayed. His hand finally left the wall, setting her free.
The doors opened, showing the quiet, fancy hallway of Sophia's floor.
Chloe stood still for a moment, out of breath, her body buzzing, her legs weak. His words hung in the air, heavy with hidden meaning.
He looked at her shocked face, a faint hint of something, maybe triumph or planning, in his expression before the doors started to close, leaving her alone in the hallway, shaken and completely off balance.
