Shared In Tangled Sheets

“I run a company worth seven figures, I employ over eighty people, and last week I negotiated a merger in under two hours. But ask me the last time I was told what to do in bed?

Never…

My husband is sweet, painfully sweet. He is the kind of man that asks if he can kiss me, if he can touch me, if I’d like the lights dimmed or bright. And God help me, I love him for it. But last month… Last month I met someone who didn’t ask— he demands. And that… that was where my problem began.”

****

“Sit down, Carter, before I find someone else to run this department,” Ava said, tapping her pen on the glass table, distracting herself from the thoughts in her head.

Carter sat.

“They always do,” Ava thought to herself.

The boardroom smelled of polished wood and freshly brewed coffee, but the tension in the room smelled even stronger.

Ava sat at the head of the table, a glass of water in one hand and a stack of proposals in the other, fingers tapping away at the polished wooden table like a metronome of authority.

“Let’s get straight to it,” she said, her voice smooth but edged with authority.

“We’re discussing the Verdant project. I want numbers, projections, and realistic strategies. Excuses are not welcome. Except you want to be shut down like Carter was just now,” her left brow poking upwards as she talked.

A man in his fifties shifted in his seat, his hands wet with sweat as he tried wiping them on his trousers. He cleared his throat.

“Well, the Verdant project has potential, but there are…”

“Potential? Potentials don't pay salaries, Mr. Collin,” she interrupted, sharply.

“I don’t invest in what ‘might’ happen. I invest in what ‘will’ happen. If you can’t present results, I suggest you keep your thoughts to yourself.”

He swallowed, glancing at his notes, beads of sweat forming at his temple. “Right. Well… our market analysis shows a thirty percent growth in demand over the next two quarters, but supply chain constraints…”

“Constraints are opportunities for innovation,” she countered. “I didn’t become CEO by worrying about constraints. I became CEO by turning them into wins,” her hands pressing the sides of her temples from exhaustion.

“ Mr. Patel, do you have anything useful for me?” She said, her voice a little clipped.

A younger executive pushed his glasses up, his eyes darting around the room, trying to avoid eye contact with the boss.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve looked into alternative suppliers and more options that can scale up quickly. With adjustments, we could reduce risk and increase revenue by at least twenty-five percent within six months.”

She nodded, satisfied with his answer. “ That's really good, and the budget?”

“The upfront investment is significant,” he said, “but the ROI is projected at thirty-eight percent annually if we streamline operations as planned.”

“Thirty-eight percent,” she repeated, tapping her pen against the table. “Are we confident in this projection?”

Mr. Patel swallowed. “Yes, ma’am. We’ve run multiple scenarios.”

“Excellent,” she said, voice softening ever so slightly, though the spark of authority never left her eyes. “Then I want a detailed rollout plan on my desk by Friday morning. No gaps, no excuses.”

A murmur of approval, or was it relief?— swept around the table. She smiled faintly, knowing every eye on her carried a mix of respect and fear. This was her domain, and she owned it.

“Can someone put up the proposal for the Annex branch expansion?”

“Yes Miss Ava,” Carter said.

“The expansion plan is moving forward, although some branches are resistant to change, and I’m concerned about”

“Resistance is temporary,” she cut in smoothly. “Change is mandatory. If you can’t convince your teams, I’ll find someone who can. Now, what’s your solution, or is this just another complaint?”

“I… I propose an incentive program for team leaders. If we can align their targets with the company’s strategic objectives, resistance should decrease.”

She leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, eyes locked on him. “And the cost?”

“Manageable,” he said, voice low. “About ten percent of the projected revenue from Verdant’s first quarter.”

“Make it fifteen percent,” she said casually. “I want results, not excuses. If this plan succeeds, everyone benefits. If it fails, it’s on your heads.”

Heads nodded, pens scribbling notes furiously.

She could feel the subtle tension crackling like static electricity. Every executive in the room knew she was sharp, demanding, and ruthless and they couldn’t help but admire her for it, even as they feared her.

After another twenty minutes of back-and-forth on numbers, risk analysis, and potential challenges, she finally closed her laptop with a satisfying snap.

“That will be all for today,” she announced, straightening her blazer and smoothing down her hair. “I expect updates by the end of the week. Do not disappoint me.”

The room emptied quickly, executives murmuring among themselves. She watched them leave, a faint smile curling her lips. Power was intoxicating and she loved it.

Her heels clicked down the hallway as she exited the boardroom with her private assistant. The polished floors reflected her every step, each echo emphasizing authority.

“Cancel all my appointments for the rest of today, I’m going home. Write an email to the office in San Diego, tell them I’ll be meeting with them next week… Monday.”

She didn’t stop walking as she dictated to Justin, her PA.

“Oh! And don't forget to send flowers to Harper, she is still in the hospital and wouldn’t forgive me for not executing my best friend duties,” she said with a small laugh.

“That will be all for now, you can go back to the office,” she told Justin.

She reached the elevator and pressed the button, already thinking about the next set of meetings she had to cancel for the day.

The doors slid open, and she walked straight into a wall of muscles, causing her files to fly everywhere around her. Her phone almost slipping out of her hands.

His hands shut out, steadying her upper body before she could stumble. The smell of his cologne clashed with her perfume— intoxicating and mesmerizing in the small space between them.

She felt the solid press of his chest for a heartbeat too long before she pushed back.

“Careful hun,” he murmured. His voice low and steady, almost a growl. Their eyes locked.

They were close, closer than two strangers had any right to be.

“Watch where you’re going,” she snapped, breaking the contact first.

He looked down at her, calm, unflustered. His dark eyes filled with amusement, as if he found the collision inevitable.

“I could say the same,” he replied smoothly. “But I’d rather apologize… for the inconvenience.”

She straightened, adjusting her blazer, trying to maintain her composure. “You’re lucky this is a professional setting.”

“Professional settings are my specialty,” he said, a teasing hint in his tone.

“You rasc…” Ava started to say but was interrupted by him.

“And challenging environments… even more so,” he said with a full-on grin as he noticed her irritation.

Something in the way he looked at her, the quiet confidence, the subtle challenge, made her pulse quicken.

She found herself slightly off balance, though she’d never admit it.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense,” she said, pressing the elevator button again.

“Neither do I,” he replied. “But it seems fate has other plans.”

She looked at him with an even more disgusted look.

The elevator doors closed, sealing them in together. The air between them, tight with sparks flying around— almost suffocating, charged with tension that neither could ignore.

He stood a step too close, yet not invading her space. His gaze was steady, unyielding, yet teasing.

For a brief moment, she imagined a different kind of boardroom. One where she didn’t call all the shots. Where someone else could challenge her, command her, make her obey. The thought was dangerous… and exhilarating.

The elevator chimed, signaling the ground floor. Neither moved to leave immediately, lingering in that quiet, charged space for a little too long.

Then she forced herself to step back, heels clicking with deliberate authority as she exited.

He followed, the incident lingering in her mind long after the elevator doors slid shut behind her. Something told her this collision wasn’t the last.