The glass door whispered shut behind her, and I knew without turning that Alicia Blake had entered my office. I could feel her presence before I even looked, an invisible pull, a shift in the air, the tightening coil of anticipation that only she seemed capable of stirring.
I didn't move at first. I kept my back to her, hands tucked into my pockets, staring out over Manhattan's glittering skyline. I liked to make people wait, to let silence wrap around them like a noose until they squirmed. Most cracked within seconds. But not her.
But i wish if she could crack. But no, hust too strong headed.
Alicia stayed quiet. Patient. Waiting.
The corner of my mouth tugged upward. She was learning fast.
Finally, I turned.
She stood near the door, chin lifted in a stubborn attempt at composure. But her fingers betrayed her, gripping her folder just a little too tightly, knuckles white. Her pulse fluttered in her throat, fast, frantic and erratic, when our eyes met, that defiance of hers trembled under my scrutinized eyes.
"Come here," I said softly.
She hesitated just a little, but then her heels clicked against the polished floor as she crossed the room. Walking shakingly to me. Good girl.
When she reached me, I closed the distance, slow and deliberate. The way her breath hitched was almost inaudible, but I caught it. Her scent….subtle, intoxicating wrapped around me, and for a dangerous moment, I considered forgetting the rules I'd set. I feel like kissing her right now and there, I feel like throwing up my shoulder and take her to my bed straight up and do so many things to her.
Oh heavens! I have so many crazy fantasies i wanna explore, only with her and her body.
"You did well today," I murmured, circling her like a predator tasting the edges of restraint. My fingers brushed the strand of hair that had slipped from her bun. "Smart, Quick thinking and Composed. You're proving yourself useful."
Her lips parted as if to answer, but no words came. Her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm, and I let my thumb graze her jawline, pausing just long enough for her to feel the weight of the unspoken, my cock has hardened.
"You're still trembling," I whispered, leaning closer. I wasn't do well myself either, but i need to pretend, so that she won't suspect am squirming deep down also. My breath touched her ear, and I felt her shiver ripple through her body. "Is it fear, Miss Blake… or something else?"
Her lashes lowered, and she shook her head as if to deny me the truth. Brave. But unnecessary. I already knew what the issue is, she also trying to keep her self in bay around me, she doesn't want to be the first person to break the rule. She also can't hold back much. Her patience is running low and on a tiny thread to break.
My hand trailed down, grazing the edge of her blazer, the curve of her waist beneath the fabric. Every muscle in her body tensed, caught between resistance and surrender.
"You're mine when you're in this office," I said, voice low, dangerous. "Every word, every breath, every secret you think you can hide... it belongs to me."
She let out a sharp inhale, her hand twitching like she might push me away. But instead, she held still, as if testing herself.
I tilted her chin up, forcing her eyes to lock on mine. Looking at those seductive eyes, i couldn't resist, hold back or care about rules again. And then I kissed her hard, passionate and lovingly. At the same time it was slow and controlled. A taste of fire I'd been denying myself since the day she walked into my company. Her lips parted beneath mine with a startled gasp, and I deepened the kiss, claiming what I had wanted from the very beginning she became my assistant.
Her folder slipped from her hand, papers scattering like snow flakes across the floor, but neither of us cared. Her fists clenched against my chest, torn between pulling me closer and shoving me away. I pressed her back against the edge of my desk, swallowing her protests, her moans, every sound she tried to hide.
When I finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breath ragged, her eyes glazed with something she couldn't disguise.
"You shouldn't…" she whispered, voice shaking.
"Oh, Alicia," I murmured, brushing my thumb across her bottom lip. "I shouldn't do a lot of things."
I slid my hand lower, resting at the curve of her hip, feeling the tremor that betrayed her. "But tell me… did you want me to stop?"
Her silence was the only answer I needed.
I leaned in, my lips grazing her ear. "This is only the beginning."
She made a strangled sound, half-plea, half-desire, and I almost lost my restraint entirely. Almost. But I didn't take her here, not yet. Not when I wanted more than just her body. I wanted her surrender. Her trust. Her fear. Her loyalty.
Instead, I pulled away just enough to watch her gather herself. Her legs wobbled as she stepped back, fumbling to collect the scattered papers. I let her, standing tall, composed, as though I hadn't just set her entire world on fire.
"You'll return at nine tonight," I said coolly.
She froze, staring up at me. "Tonight?"
"Yes," I confirmed, slipping back into the role of the untouchable CEO. "Here. My penthouse. Don't be late."
Her lips parted, her voice unsteady. "And if I don't come?"
I leaned closer again, smirking at the flicker of defiance in her eyes. "You will. Because you want to know just how far you'll let me take you."
She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
I watched her leave, the sway of her hips betraying nerves she tried to mask. And when the door closed, I allowed myself a rare truth:
Control was a lie I told myself. Because when it came to Alicia Blake, I was already unraveling.
Alicia's Pov: The Penthouse Night
The city glowed beneath me, a river of golden lights threading through Manhattan's veins as I stood in the back of the sleek black car Liam had sent. My reflection in the tinted glass looked foreign, too polished, too poised, like a woman stepping into someone else's life.
But it wasn't someone else's life. It was his world. And tonight, I was being pulled inside.
When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, I almost forgot to breathe. His penthouse wasn't just a home, it was a kingdom suspended above the city. Black marble floors reflected the skyline pouring through glass walls. A grand piano sat by the windows, silent and gleaming. And the air carried that faint, intoxicating scent of him, sharp cologne mixed with something darker, warmer.
He was waiting.
Liam stood near the piano, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, the city's glow painting his silhouette in shadow and gold. His eyes swept over me slowly, deliberately, like a man unwrapping something he already owned.
"You came," he said, voice smooth, deep.
My throat was dry. "You asked me to."
His lips curved in that dangerous half-smile. "I don't ask, Alicia. I expect."
My pulse stuttered. I should have left then. I should have turned around and pressed that elevator button and reminded myself that this was nothing but a job. But my legs didn't move.
"Take off your coat," he said.
The command was simple. Ordinary. And yet it slid over my skin like silk and steel at once. My hands trembled as I obeyed, laying the coat across the back of a chair. His eyes never left me.
"Good," he murmured, stepping closer. "Now… a drink?"
Before I could answer, he poured amber liquid into a crystal glass and held it out. I accepted, though my fingers brushed his longer than necessary. Heat shot through me at the contact.
"Relax," he said, though the word came with a smirk that suggested the opposite.
I sipped, the whiskey burning down my throat, igniting the knots in my chest. He watched me, silent, patient, letting the tension coil tighter with every second.
Then he took the glass from my hand and set it aside. "Come here."
Two words, and I was moving. My heels clicked against the marble until I was standing within his orbit, close enough to feel the heat of his body, close enough to see the storm hidden behind his calm gaze.
His hand lifted, fingers brushing the side of my face, tracing the line of my jaw. "You're still trembling."
"I'm not..."
"You are." His thumb grazed my lower lip, silencing me. "And it isn't fear."
I tried to look away, but his touch pulled me back. My breath came faster, and when his mouth finally descended on mine, I melted. His kiss was slow but consuming, a claiming that left me clutching his shirt like I'd fall without him.
The world spun. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and my body answered without hesitation…traitorous, desperate. I could taste whiskey on his tongue, could feel the restrained power coiled in his body, holding back something darker, hungrier.
He broke the kiss only to whisper against my lips, "Do you know why I wanted you here tonight?"
I shook my head, dizzy.
"Because you fascinate me," he said. "You walk into my world, trembling, but you don't run. You pretend to resist, but your body… your eyes…" He trailed a finger down my throat, making me shiver. "…they betray you."
"I'm not yours," I managed, though the words lacked conviction.
His smile was slow, wicked. "Not yet."
In one swift motion, he lifted me onto the piano. The cold glass pressed against my thighs through my dress, and a gasp escaped before I could stop it. His hands bracketed my hips, his mouth descending again, this time rougher, hungrier.
The kiss burned, devoured, leaving me breathless. My legs parted instinctively, and he stepped between them, pressing closer, until there was no space left, no denial possible.
His hand slid up, fingers skimming the edge of my dress, tracing fire along my skin. He didn't push further, not yet, just teased, controlled, making me ache for more.
"You see," he whispered, lips brushing my ear, "control isn't about taking everything at once. It's about knowing exactly when to stop."
And he did stop, pulling back just enough to leave me trembling, desperate, empty.
Frustration twisted in my chest. "You're playing with me."
"Yes," he admitted simply, eyes dark with amusement. "And you like it."
I hated that he was right. I hated the heat pooling low in my belly, the way my body leaned toward him even when my pride screamed otherwise.
"Say it," he murmured, his hand cupping my face again, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Say you want me to stop, and I will. Say it, Alicia."
I opened my mouth, but no sound came. My silence betrayed me more than words ever could.
His smirk deepened. "That's what I thought."
He kissed me again, softer this time, almost tender, before pulling away completely. I sat on the piano, chest heaving, lips swollen, staring at him like he was both the danger and the salvation I couldn't choose between.
"Go home," he said finally, his tone clipped, as though nothing had happened.
"What?" My voice cracked.
"You heard me. Go home. Get some sleep." His eyes gleamed, sharp, unreadable. "Tonight was only a beginning. The next time, you'll come back to me on your own terms."
Confusion and desire tangled inside me. He was dismissing me, after setting me on fire, after unraveling me piece by piece, he was sending me away.
But as I slid off the piano, my legs shaky, my heart pounding, I realized something terrifying.
I would come back.
Because I was already his, whether I admitted it or not.
And that truth scared me more than anything.