The first lesson Alina learned at Kane International was that everything was about control.
The building itself was a monument to precision. Every schedule ran like clockwork, and every employee seemed wired to the unspoken rhythm of Darius Kane's empire. Meetings started to the second and reports seemed to be immaculate. It wasn't just efficiency. It was dominance. Kane International didn't merely operate, it bent reality around the man at its helm.
And now Alina was part of that world, thrust into a role that demanded poise, wit, and nerves strong enough to withstand the gaze of a man who didn't miss a single detail.
She arrived early earlier than necessary, determined to avoid yesterday's cutting remark about being late. Assistants darted down hallways clutching files, while two department heads were already arguing heatedly near the elevators.
She squared her shoulders, heels clicking against polished marble as she walked to her temporary office which was a sleek glass box overlooking the bullpen. Inside, a slim tablet already waited on her desk with today's tasks. She scanned it quickly. Most were simple data reviews, nothing she couldn't handle. But at the bottom of the list, one line was highlighted in red:
10:00 AM – Strategic Meeting. D. Kane requests your presence.
Her stomach dropped. She hadn't expected to be summoned so soon.
By the time she entered the boardroom, the meeting was already in full swing. Executives in tailored suits clustered around the long table, their voices tense. Charts and graphs flickered across the wall screen, streams of numbers painting a picture she didn't fully understand but instinctively recognized as bad.
At the head of the table sat Darius.
Alina slid into an empty chair, trying not to draw attention. But she felt it instantly, the weight of his gaze. Dark, unwavering, impossible to ignore.
She busied herself with her notepad, but every nerve in her body screamed under that silent scrutiny.
Finally, he spoke. "Enough."
The word cracked across the room like a whip. Instantly, the voices died.
Darius rose from his chair, moving to the screen. He tapped the display, scrolling through lines of data. "Our systems flagged three intrusion attempts in the past forty-eight hours. Someone's testing our defenses. This isn't amateurs. This is coordinated."
Murmurs rippled through the table. Darius ignored them, his gaze sweeping the room. "We find the leak. We shut it down. If I discover negligence…" He let the threat hang, sharp as broken glass.
Then, to Alina's shock, his eyes locked on her. "Ms. Monroe."
Her breath caught. "Yes?"
"You're here to analyze inefficiencies. Tell me, what do you see in this room?"
Heat flooded her chest. It wasn't about data. It was a test. A trap.
Slowly, she set down her pen, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "I see fear."
The room went silent. Every head turned toward her.
Darius's brow arched, his mouth curving faintly. "Go on."
She swallowed. "Fear makes people sloppy. Sloppy people make mistakes. And mistakes invite enemies." She paused, praying her voice didn't shake. "If you want efficiency, you have to cut the fear, or it will eat your company from the inside."
For a heartbeat, the room held its breath.
Then Darius smiled. Not kindly. Not warmly. But with something sharper approval mixed with challenge.
"Interesting," he said softly. "Most people are too afraid to tell me the truth."
Her pulse thundered. She forced herself to remain calm, but inside, adrenaline roared. She had pushed back and survived.
The meeting resumed, but Alina barely heard it. All she could feel was the steady burn of his gaze, lingering long after he turned away.
The following days blurred into a dangerous rhythm.
She buried herself in data, reviewing reports, conducting interviews, weaving herself deeper into the fabric of the company. But always, at the edges of her work, he was there. Watching. Testing. Tempting.
Once, she found herself alone with him in the elevator again. He didn't speak at first, simply watching her in silence. The air seemed to crackle between them.
Finally, he said, "Most people avoid me."
"And yet here I am," she replied, forcing her tone light.
His gaze swept over her slowly, deliberately, like a touch. "Yes. Here you are."
The words lingered, thick with meaning she didn't dare name.
On Friday, she was summoned to his office near closing time. She entered cautiously, expecting another test.
Instead, she found him at the window, the city spread beneath him like a conquered kingdom. He didn't turn when she walked in.
"Do you know why I keep you here, Ms. Monroe?" he asked quietly.
Her throat tightened. "Because you think I might be useful."
He turned then, eyes dark and unreadable. "Because you're not afraid to look me in the eye."
"Fear keeps people predictable," he continued, stepping closer. "But you… you're unpredictable. And that's dangerous."
He was too close now, his presence overwhelming. Her body betrayed her, heat coiling low in her stomach.
She forced herself to whisper, "Then maybe you should let me go."
His smile was slow, deliberate, wicked. "Why would I do that, when you're the most interesting temptation I've had in years?"
And in that moment, Alina realized the truth she had been denying.
She wasn't just investigating him.
She was being consumed by him.
On Thursday evening, she received a summons. Not to his office this time, but to his world.
The invitation arrived in a black envelope, sealed with the Kane International crest. She tore it open at her desk, pulse racing as she read:
Ms. Monroe,
You will accompany me to the Sterling Gala tomorrow night. Formal attire required.
—D. Kane
Her first reaction was irritation. He didn't ask. He commanded. As though her attendance were his right, not her choice.
Her second reaction was fear. A gala meant publicity. Cameras. Socialites. Billionaires who thrived on gossip. It was the last place an undercover journalist should be.
And her third reaction, the one that shamed her most was excitement.
The quartet shifted seamlessly into a waltz as Darius guided her onto the dance floor. His hand slid to the small of her back, firm and possessive, while his other clasped hers with unyielding strength.
The first step stole her breath. He moved with precision, leading effortlessly, his body pressed close enough to hers that she could feel the warmth radiating through his tuxedo.
"You're tense," he murmured, his lips close to her ear.
"Maybe I don't like being manhandled," she shot back, though her pulse betrayed her.
His chuckle was dark velvet. "Manhandled? No, Ms. Monroe. This is control." He tightened his grip slightly, spinning her across the floor with practiced ease. "And control, I think, excites you."
Her cheeks burned. She hated that he was right, that her body betrayed her with every brush of his fingers, every inhale of his cologne. The scent was intoxicating; wood, spice, something darker beneath.
She forced herself to keep her voice steady. "Maybe I just don't like losing."
His gaze locked on hers, the ballroom fading until it felt like they were the only two people alive. "Then we are alike," he said softly. "Because I don't lose."
The intensity in his eyes was overwhelming. For a moment, she forgot her mission, her lies, everything but the man holding her. Desire coiled hot and sharp in her veins, an ache she couldn't name.
The silence between them crackled, heavy with everything unspoken. And then, just as quickly as it began, it was broken.
"Mr. Kane."
A voice interrupted, sharp and unwelcome. A man in his fifties approached, his suit expensive but his expression sour. Alina stiffened as Darius reluctantly released her hand.
"Senator Halstrom," Darius greeted coolly. "What a surprise."
The senator's eyes flicked to Alina, lingering with thinly veiled disdain. "And who is this?"
Darius's smile was faint but dangerous. "Someone far more interesting than you, Senator."
The man bristled, muttered something under his breath, and stalked away.
Alina blinked. "That was… blunt."
Darius's eyes returned to hers, softer now. "When I want something, Ms. Monroe, I don't waste time with politeness."
Later that night, Alina slipped away from the crowd, needing air. She found a quiet corridor near the service elevators and leaned against the wall, her heart still racing from the dance.
She needed to focus. She needed to remember why she was here.
But then she froze.
Voices drifted from around the corner. Low, urgent. She recognized one instantly; Marcus Vale, Kane International's CFO. The other voice was unfamiliar, rough with an accent she couldn't place.
"…he doesn't suspect," Marcus was saying. "The breach worked. By the time Kane realizes what's happening, it'll be too late."
Alina's blood ran cold.
The other man grunted. "And the girl? The consultant?"
Marcus laughed harshly. "She's nothing. Kane probably has her in his bed already. She won't be a problem."
Alina's heart hammered. A breach. A betrayal. Proof that Darius's empire was under attack and she was caught in the middle.
She pressed back against the wall, praying they wouldn't turn the corner and find her. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to tell someone, to protect herself.
But another instinct, just as strong, whispered something far more dangerous.
Tell Darius.
He was being betrayed. And she was the only one who knew.
But telling him meant crossing a line she wasn't sure she could ever return from.
And yet… when she pictured his eyes, dark and unreadable, and the way his voice had dipped when he called her temptation…
She knew she was already past the point of no return.