The clock ticked past six, the office gradually emptying of staff, but Bella's heart hadn't stopped hammering since the moment she'd stepped into Jake Stones' office that morning.
The rest of the day had been a blur of reports, tense glances, and his unnervingly calm voice instructing her through tasks. Somehow, she'd survived the hours without crumbling under his gaze.
She gathered her things, relieved for the day to be over, when a shadow fell across her desk.
"Heading out, Miss Howells?"
She froze at the sound of his voice, deep and smooth. Lifting her eyes, she found Jake standing there—perfectly composed in his tailored suit, jacket unbuttoned, hands casually in his pockets as though he owned not just the company but the very air around him.
"Yes, sir," she replied, rising to her feet and slipping her bag over her shoulder.
Jake's lips curved faintly. "Allow me to take you home. It's late, and the streets can be unpredictable."
