Elias Voss did not share space.
Not his office.
Not his time.
Not his control.
And yet—
Catherine Vale had made herself comfortable.
Not just sitting.
Settled.
Like she had decided this place belonged to her.
Elias stood behind his desk, watching her with a stillness that wasn't calm—
it was restraint.
Across the room, Catherine had shifted from the couch to stretching out across it, one arm draped lazily over the back, her red hair spilling like fire against the dark fabric.
She looked… at home.
In his office.
In his space.
And that—
was unacceptable.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
His tone was low.
Controlled.
She didn't even look at him.
"Hmm?" she murmured, adjusting slightly like she was getting more comfortable. "Relaxing."
"This isn't a lounge."
"It could be," she said lightly.
Elias's jaw tightened.
"It's not."
She finally turned her head, her gaze meeting his.
"That sounds like a choice."
"It is."
"And you chose boring."
Silence.
Sharp.
Elias walked around his desk slowly, each step measured.
"You're crossing a line."
Catherine smiled.
"You keep saying that, but you haven't done anything about it."
"That's about to change."
"Mm," she hummed, unconcerned. "I don't think so."
Elias stopped in front of her.
Close enough to block her view of the city.
"You don't belong here."
She looked up at him.
Calm.
Unbothered.
"Neither does half the art in this room," she said. "But you still keep it."
"That's not the same."
"No," she agreed softly. "I'm better."
That—
almost—
made him react.
Almost.
Elias held her gaze, cold and steady. "Get up."
She didn't move.
Instead, she shifted again—this time turning onto her side, propping her head up on her hand like she was settling in for a long conversation.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "for someone with this much space, you really don't use it."
"This space isn't for comfort."
"That's obvious."
Her eyes moved around the room again, slow, deliberate.
"No personal touches. No warmth. No sign anyone actually lives here."
"This is an office."
"It feels like a museum," she corrected.
Elias's patience thinned.
"You've overstayed your welcome."
"I was welcomed?"
"You weren't."
"Then I can't overstay," she said simply.
Elias stared at her.
There it was again.
That quiet way she twisted everything just enough to make it irritating.
"You're testing me," he said.
Her smile returned.
"Finally."
"I'm not someone you test."
"I know," she said softly. "That's why it's interesting."
Elias exhaled slowly.
Controlled.
Measured.
"You're not leaving?"
"No."
"Why?"
She shrugged slightly.
"Because I don't want to."
"That's not a reason."
"It is to me."
Silence.
Then—
she sat up.
Slowly.
Her red hair fell forward over her shoulder as she leaned slightly toward the table beside the couch.
And without asking—
she reached for the glass of water that had been placed there earlier.
Elias's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Don't."
Too late.
She picked it up.
Took a small sip.
Then looked at him.
"…What?" she asked innocently.
"That's not yours."
"It is now."
"Put it down."
She glanced at the glass.
Then back at him.
Then—
took another sip.
Deliberately.
Slowly.
Watching him the entire time.
Elias didn't move.
But something in his expression shifted.
Not loss of control.
Just—
pressure.
"You're doing that on purpose."
"Of course I am."
"At least you're honest."
"I try."
She placed the glass down casually, like nothing about that moment mattered.
Then leaned back again.
Comfortable.
Again.
"You know what this place needs?" she asked.
"I don't care."
"Something soft."
"I'm not redecorating."
"I didn't say redecorate," she smiled. "I said soften."
"This isn't a home."
"That's the problem."
Elias took a step closer.
"You don't get to define my space."
"And you don't get to control everything in it," she replied smoothly.
"I do."
She tilted her head.
"Then why am I still here?"
That—
hit.
Quiet.
Precise.
Elias didn't answer.
Because he didn't have one he liked.
Catherine watched him for a moment.
Then her expression softened—just slightly.
Not pity.
Not weakness.
Something… lighter.
"You're interesting when you're like this," she said.
"Like what?"
"Trying not to lose control."
"I'm not trying."
She smiled again.
"That's what you think."
Silence stretched between them.
But now—
it wasn't just tension.
There was something else under it.
Something unfamiliar.
Elias didn't like it.
"You're not staying," he said finally.
Catherine leaned her head back against the couch, completely at ease.
"I think I am."
"You don't make that decision."
"Maybe not," she said lightly. "But I'm still making myself comfortable."
Elias stared at her.
At the way she occupied the space like it didn't intimidate her.
Like he didn't intimidate her.
Like none of this—
mattered.
And that—
was the real problem.
Because everything in Elias Voss's world was supposed to respond to him.
To his rules.
To his control.
Except her.
Catherine shifted slightly, her eyes meeting his again.
Still calm.
Still playful.
Still completely at ease.
"Try to relax," she added softly.
Elias didn't move.
Didn't respond.
Because relaxing—
was not something he did.
And she—
was not something he could control.