LOGINHe let out a short, mocking breath, a sneer curling his upper lip. The disgust rolling off him was palpable, thick enough to choke the air out of the room.
"Clara Monroe has spent twenty years building a flawless, ironclad reputation for discretion and morality in this city," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a dangerously low whisper that vibrated with absolute contempt. "And her own blood is sneaking into private lounges, letting a drunk, pathetic pig like Leonard Voss paw at her dress in the dark?" A hot, stinging flush crept up my neck. The judgment in his voice burned, but I had to lean into it. I had to let him believe the worst of Elizabeth, so he wouldn't look for Mara. "It wasn't... it wasn't what it looked like," I whispered, forcing my eyes to well up with frantic, desperate tears. I stepped back, clutching my hands together at my chest. "Mr. Voss was... he was being aggressive. I didn't want—" "You were giving him 'those looks' all night, from what I gather," Adrian cut me off, his tone sharp as a razor. He looked at me like I was a virus in his pristine boardroom. "You girls think, because you have a pretty face and a prestigious last name, you can play these dangerous little games with billionaires and never pay the price. You let yourself be used as cheap entertainment, completely disregarding the shame it would bring to your family if anyone found out." "Please," I begged, the desperation in my voice entirely real as I took a step closer, looking up at him through my eyelashes. "Please, Mr. Holt. Don't tell her. If Clara finds out... if she knows I was in that hallway, she’ll send me back home. She’ll never look at me the same way again. I’ll lose everything." Adrian’s eyes tracked the movement of my lips, his jaw clenching tightly. For a long, agonizing moment, he didn't say a word. The power dynamic in the room shifted, turning into a heavy, suffocating cloud of tension. He was disgusted by my supposed "looseness," revolted by the idea of Clara’s niece acting like an ordinary party girl, but underneath that disgust... There was something else. A strange, sharp spark of pure obsession with the control he held over people. He reached out, his long, heavy fingers resting on the edge of the mahogany table, pinning me between his massive frame and the wall behind me. "You're a disgrace to her name, Elizabeth," Adrian whispered, his hot breath brushing against my forehead. "And if it were up to me, you'd be on the first train out of this city." He paused, his eyes drilling into mine, holding me hostage in the silence. "I won't tell Clara," he finally said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously dark. "Not yet. But you are going to learn exactly how dangerous the games you play truly are." He straightened up, pulling his presence back, leaving me cold and shivering in his shadow. He walked over to the door, throwing it open, his voice echoing out into the hallway where Clara and others were waiting. "Clara," Adrian called out, his tone perfectly professional once more, as if the last five minutes had never happened. "Bring your staff back in. We have a lot of work to do. And make sure your assistant stays right here. I want her handling my personal files for the rest of the day." Clara stepped back into the room first, her sharp eyes immediately darting between Adrian’s unreadable face and my pale one. She was looking for cracks, looking for any sign of what had just transpired in the dark behind those closed doors. But Adrian gave her absolutely nothing to work with. He had already slipped his corporate armor back on, his face a flawless mask of stone. "Of course, Mr. Holt," Clara said, her voice smooth, though her eyes lingered on me for a fraction of a second longer than usual. "Mara is highly efficient. She’ll ensure your files are prioritized." Hearing my real name come out of Clara's mouth while Adrian stood right there made my chest tighten in panic. I kept my chin down, staring intently at the carpet, praying the sheer panic rolling off me wasn't visible. Luckily, Adrian didn't flinch at the name, probably because he was knee-deep into his phone call, and didn't hear, which is for the best. The rest of the staff filed back in, the heavy silence from before replacing the tense whispers of the lobby. The review continued for another grueling hour, but I didn't hear a single word of it. My ears were ringing. Every time Adrian spoke, his deep baritone felt like a physical weight pressing against my shoulders. When the clock finally struck eleven, Adrian closed his laptop with a crisp, definitive snap. "The rest of the projections can be sent to my desk by Monday, Clara," he said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "I have a tight schedule before my flight. Move the luxury division folders to the private office down the hall. Your assistant will help me organize them." "Right away," Clara nodded, turning to me. "Take the black binders and follow Mr. Holt." "Yes, ma'am," I whispered. My hands were shaking as I gathered the heavy leather files from the table. I followed Adrian out of the boardroom, keeping a careful two paces behind him. His long, confident strides tore through the hallway, his security detail falling into a synchronous line behind us. We walked into the smaller, executive office at the end of the corridor, a room usually reserved for high-profile clients. The security stayed outside, closing the glass door behind us. The moment the latch clicked, the air in the room vanished. Adrian didn't wait. He didn't walk over to the desk. He turned around instantly, his massive frame blocking the only exit, his steel-grey eyes locking onto me with the force of a physical blow. "Set them down," he commanded. I swallowed hard, stepping forward to drop the heavy binders onto the glass coffee table in the center of the room. "Mr. Holt, about what I said earlier—" "I don't recall giving you permission to speak, Elizabeth," Adrian cut me off, stepping into my space. The distance between us evaporated until I had to tilt my head back just to meet his gaze. The utter disgust from the boardroom was still there, but now, it was mixed with something far more volatile. A dark, possessive authority. "You wanted to be treated like an adult who can play in the big leagues? Then you're going to start acting like one." "I am acting professionally," I lied, my voice dropping its timid edge, a spark of Mara's iron heart flaring up despite the danger. "I'm here to do my job." "Your job?" Adrian let out a low, humorless chuckle that didn't reach his eyes. He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly whisper. "Your job today is to stay exactly where I can see you. I don't trust you, Elizabeth. A girl who sells her dignity in dark corners for the attention of men like Voss is a liability. You’re a liability to Clara, and by extension, you are a liability to my investments here." He reached out, his thumb and forefinger clamping under my jaw, tilting my face up. His skin was scorching hot against my cold flesh, his grip firm enough to freeze the breath in my throat. "You think you're clever, hiding behind a boring skirt and a tight bun," Adrian murmured, his eyes scanning every inch of my face, dropping to my lips before snapping back to my eyes. "But I see exactly what you are. You're a spoiled, reckless girl looking for trouble. And until I decide what to do with you, your little secret belongs to me." My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped animal. He thought he owned me. He thought he had Clara’s fragile, prestigious niece cornered. He had no idea he was holding a girl who had spent her entire life fighting. "And what exactly do you want from me, Mr. Holt?" I challenged, my voice shaking but sharp, matching his intensity. Adrian's eyes darkened, a shadow of something heavy and dangerous crossing his features as his grip on my jaw tightened just a fraction. He looked at me for a long, breathless moment, the silence between us turning into a taut wire ready to snap. Slowly, he released my jaw, his hand sliding down to rest flat against the desk behind me, effectively trapping me against his chest. "For starters," Adrian whispered, his voice dangerously close to my ear, sending a violent shiver down my spine. "You're going to cancel whatever plans you have tonight. My flight to London just got delayed... and I think you and I need a much closer look at your credentials."The concrete steps of the service stairwell were cold and endless, echoing with the frantic, slapping sounds of my flats. I descended four flights at a time, my lungs burning, my mind entirely detached from the luxury suite I had just fled. Let him be angry, I thought fiercely, pushing through a heavy fire door that burst out into a rainy side alley. Let Adrian Holt think whatever he wants. The downpour hit me instantly, soaking my satin blouse and flattening my hair against my scalp. I ran to the main street, waving my arms frantically until a battered yellow cab screeched to a halt. I threw myself into the backseat, shouting my address to the driver. The transition from the pristine, scent-filled air of the Grand Regent to the suffocating smell of damp upholstery and cheap pineapple air freshener was violent. I stared at my hands, still shaking, as the cab gridlocked in the midday traffic. "Can't you go any faster?" I pleaded, leaning forward. "Unless this car sprouts
The heavy double doors of the penthouse suite rattled with a sudden, aggressive knock, shattering the suffocating silence between us. I instantly pulled my hand back from the trackpad, my skin still tingling where his large, hot palm had just crushed mine against the laptop. My breath came in shallow, ragged gaps. He was standing so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest, his shadow completely swallowing me. "Mr. Holt?" Marcus’s voice came muffled but urgent through the thick oak. "I apologize for the interruption, but your secretary from the London transit office is on the secure line. The ground crew needs your digital signature to clear the private transport files immediately before the weather turns." Adrian slowly straightened up. The terrifying, magnetic weight of his presence lifted just enough for the air to rush back into my lungs. He didn't look at the door. His steel-grey eyes stayed locked onto my face for one more long, agonizing second, filled with
I watched her go, my chest tight, my blood still boiling. I needed to stay away from her. She was a trap, a dangerous distraction from a family that already carried too much prestige for her to be acting like an ordinary street girl. I waited a few moments to let her get ahead, adjusting my cuffs and forcing my breathing to slow down. I was a man who controlled empires, yet a spoiled, reckless brat had just pushed me to the absolute edge of my restraint in a corporate office. It was pathetic. Stepping out of the executive suite, I walked down the corridor toward the elevators. Clara was standing near the reception desk, talking to Sarah. When she saw me approach, she straightened up, offering a respectful, polished smile. "Everything handled with the files, Mr. Holt?" Clara asked. "Completely," I replied, my voice a flawless, frigid mask of professional courtesy. "Your new assistant is bringing them down to my vehicle now. She’ll be assisting me with the digital sorting
Mr Holt I pulled my hand back from her jaw, but the heat of her skin stayed burned into my fingertips. Fuck!. I looked down at her, my chest rising and falling in heavy, controlled breaths. She stood trapped between my frame and the mahogany desk, her chin tilted up, her chest heaving beneath that ridiculous, high-necked corporate blouse. She had scrubbed the paint off her face and pulled her hair into a knot so tight it looked painful, but it didn't change what she was. Elizabeth Monroe. A spoiled, reckless upper-class brat playing dress-up in her aunt’s office. My blood was boiling, thick and hostile, hammering against my temples with a violence I hadn't felt in years. I hated her type. I hated the desperate, manipulative climb of women who used their skin as currency. But as I stared into her wide, defiant eyes, a sudden, unwanted jolt of electricity slammed straight into my gut. My body tightened, reacting to her proximity with a primitive, humiliating urgency that
He let out a short, mocking breath, a sneer curling his upper lip. The disgust rolling off him was palpable, thick enough to choke the air out of the room. "Clara Monroe has spent twenty years building a flawless, ironclad reputation for discretion and morality in this city," Adrian said, his voice dropping into a dangerously low whisper that vibrated with absolute contempt. "And her own blood is sneaking into private lounges, letting a drunk, pathetic pig like Leonard Voss paw at her dress in the dark?" A hot, stinging flush crept up my neck. The judgment in his voice burned, but I had to lean into it. I had to let him believe the worst of Elizabeth, so he wouldn't look for Mara. "It wasn't... it wasn't what it looked like," I whispered, forcing my eyes to well up with frantic, desperate tears. I stepped back, clutching my hands together at my chest. "Mr. Voss was... he was being aggressive. I didn't want—" "You were giving him 'those looks' all night, from what I gather,
I picked up the stack of heavy, textured folders from the side table. My hands were steady—forced into compliance by sheer survival instinct. I stepped up to the table, moving silently from the back of the room toward the front, placing a folder gently to the right of each executive. One for Sarah. One for the CFO. One for Clara. Finally, I reached the head of the table. Adrian was typing something into his laptop, his profile sharp and imposing up close. I could smell the faint scent of his cedarwood cologne, the same scent from that dark hallway at the Vance Estate. I leaned forward slightly, placing the final folder on the polished wood next to his hand. "The third-quarter breakdown, Mr. Holt," I murmured, keeping my voice low, monotone, and entirely devoid of the warmth I had used with Elsie or Leonard. I began to pull my hand back, ready to retreat into the shadows. Adrian’s fingers stopped typing. The sudden cessation of the clicking keys felt louder than a gunshot
By eight, I was already in front of Clara’s office building, Allegra Group, sweaty palms, thrift-store blouse, and all.Stella, the assistant with the sharp bob and sharper attitude, escorted me into a glass-walled conference room. A few staff members were already seated, murmuring over schedules
The club was half-full, the usual Sunday crowd men with tired yet excited faces, women in tight dresses, coming in for their weekend hangout. Who even drinks alcohol this early hours of the day, it’s not even up to 5pm yet, the music just loud enough to keep people awake and raise their voice ten t
Grinding from ear to ear as I walked towards where everybody was gathered, Clara stood in the center, addressing us for a job well done and handing out out our paychecks, the event had finally come to an end without any of my lies blowing up in my face, which I will count as a huge win. “Mara, you
This is going way worse than I thought. Who knew that lying, and keeping up with the lie would be this difficult? “Grace, Taylor, Amber, meet Elizabeth. She’s new in town and she’s Clara’s niece,” Elsie chirped as she pulled me into a circle. Three perfectly styled heads turned toward me, two







