Beneath the Tailored Lie

Every Little Detail

I’m sitting at my desk the next day, staring at the same spreadsheet for what feels like the hundredth time, yet none of the numbers are registering in my brain. My focus has been slipping more and more lately, and every test Ronan keeps putting me through only makes it worse. The longer I stay here, the more convinced I become that none of this is accidental. He says I have a choice, but I don’t think I really do anymore.

This stopped being a normal office job the moment I walked into something I was never supposed to see. Ever since then, he has been pulling me deeper into this place piece by piece, like he’s carefully unraveling a thread just to see how far I’ll follow it.

And the worst part?

I keep following.

I lean back in my chair with a frustrated sigh, rubbing at my temples while the glow of the computer screen burns against my eyes. I used to love this kind of work. I took pride in it. Details always came naturally to me. People, paperwork, patterns, lies. I noticed things others missed.

But Ronan?

Ronan is impossible.

He gives me only what I need for that exact moment and nothing more. Every answer leads to another question. Every door opens into something darker. Black Reign is still nothing but a ghost story with no paper trail. No records. No names. No mistakes.

What is he?

Some mafia king hiding behind a corporation? A cult leader with expensive suits and polished manners?

I let out a quiet groan and drop my forehead onto the desk.

“Always so distracted lately, Nova.”

His voice cuts through the silence so suddenly that I jerk upright in my chair, my heart stumbling against my ribs.

For the first time since I met him, an actual smirk touches his mouth.

“And apparently on edge too.”

I exhale sharply and rub at my eyes. “I am not on edge. I was simply caught off guard.”

A low hum leaves him, unconvinced.

Only then do I finally look at him properly.

Not the way an employee looks at their boss.

Not the quick glances I usually steal before looking away.

I actually look at him.

Ronan stands in the doorway like he owns the air around him. Dark clothes cling to his broad frame perfectly, every piece tailored and precise without trying too hard. His black hair is slightly disheveled today, like he’s been running his hands through it, and somehow that makes him look even more dangerous. Less polished. More real.

His eyes lock onto mine instantly.

Dark. Cold. Sharp enough to cut straight through me.

There’s something unnerving about the way he watches people. Like he’s constantly calculating every thought behind their expression before they even speak. It should make me uncomfortable.

Instead, it makes it hard to look away.

My gaze drifts lower before I can stop it. The strong line of his jaw. The faint shadow of stubble darkening his face. The expensive watch wrapped around his wrist. Even standing still, he carries himself like a man used to being obeyed.

Controlled.

Powerful.

Terrifyingly calm.

And suddenly I understand why people lower their eyes around him.

Why rooms quiet when he enters.

Why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since the day I got here.

His smirk fades slightly, his gaze narrowing just enough to make heat creep into my face.

“You’re staring, Nova.”

My stomach twists.

God.

Maybe I am on edge.

I clear my throat and force myself to hold his gaze. "Do you need something? Or did you come in here just to stand there looking pretty?"

The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

For half a second, silence fills the office.

Then one of his brows lifts slightly.

He steps toward my desk slowly, deliberately, until both of his hands plant against the surface and he leans down into my space. The movement is controlled, smooth, predatory in a way that sends heat straight to my face.

"Pretty?" His voice dips lower, amused. "Hm. I don't think anyone's ever called me that before."

I roll my eyes quickly, pretending the warmth crawling into my cheeks doesn't exist.

I stand before he can say anything about it.

"Again," I say, brushing past him, "do you need something?"

I put distance between us and head toward the break room, focusing on the simple task of making coffee even though I know I probably will not drink it. Anything to keep my hands busy.

Of course, he follows.

Unhurried. Calm. Like he already knows I won't get far.

"Are you up for another field trip, Nova?" he asks casually, leaning against the break room doorway.

I keep my back to him as I grab a mug from the cabinet. "Can't you do anything by yourself? Surely you managed fine before I was hired."

"Oh, I'm very capable of doing plenty by myself."

Something in his tone makes my stomach tighten.

I glance over just in time to see him push away from the doorway and more closer. He bends slightly, enough to catch my epression as I focus far too hard on pouring coffee into the mug.

"But where's the fun in that?"

I turn too quickly, and suddenly he is right there.

Close.

Way too close.

The coffee pot nearly slips from my hand as my breath catches. His cologne wraps around me instantly, dark and expensive, the kind of scent that lingers long after someone leaves a room.

"Your field trips are starting to interfere with my work," I say, though the words come out weaker than I inteneded. His eyes flick down briefly to my mouth before meeting my gaze again.

"Yeah?" he murmurs.

He takes one slow step closer, backing me against the counter without even touching me.

"How so?"

Every nerve in my body feels awake.

"What exactly about them has you so distracted, Nova?"

The question catches me completely off guard because there is no chance in hell I am admitting the truth. That it is not the dangerous assignments keeping me destracted.

It is him.

The way he keeps pulling me deeper into his world while pretending I still have the option to walk away. The way my body betrays me everytime he gets too close.

I tighten my grip on the mug and force myself to look unimpressed.

"Nothing," I say quickly. "What is this field trip of yours?"

A slow smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. The kind of smile that says he does not believe me for a second.

"That nervous, huh?"

"I am not nervous."

"Your heartbeat says otherwise."

I freeze.

His expression darkens with satisfication, like my reaction alone answered every question he asked.

"How do you even know what my heartbeat sounds like?" I ask carefully.

He leans in just enough for his voice to brush across my skin.

"I notice every little detail too, Nova."