The Boss’s Bargain

CHAPTER 3

Monday morning arrived with the shrill scream of my alarm at 6:00 AM. I hadn't slept well. My dreams had been a chaotic montage of spreadsheets, board meetings, and Elias Vance's hands sliding up my thighs. I woke up flustered, my skin damp with a thin sheen of sweat, my body aching for a touch that I was strictly forbidden to have.

I stood in front of my closet, staring at my wardrobe like it was an enemy combatant. Elias's words from Saturday echoed in my head: *Dress appropriately. Professional. But keep the heels.*

What did that even mean? Was he testing me? Was he daring me?

I bypassed the tight pencil skirt I had worn to the interview. It felt too obvious now. Instead, I chose a pair of tailored charcoal trousers that hugged my hips but flowed loosely around my legs. I paired them with a silky cream-colored blouse—modest, high-necked, and buttoned all the way up. To cover the fading bruise on my neck, I added a delicate silk scarf in a soft blush pink.

I looked in the mirror. I looked like a librarian. A sexy librarian, maybe, but a librarian nonetheless. It was safe. It was armor.

I arrived at the Vance Enterprises building at 7:45 AM. The lobby was already buzzing with the morning rush of employees. I signed in, got my permanent badge from security—who gave me a polite nod—and took the elevator up to the thirty-second floor.

My desk was situated in the marketing bullpen, a large open area with cubicles arranged like a honeycomb. The Head of Marketing, a sharp woman in her fifties named Brenda, met me at my desk. She was all business—crisp blazer, short gray bob, and glasses that she peered over like a hawk.

"I don't have time to hold your hand, Chloe," she said by way of greeting, dropping a stack of files on my desk. "We're launching a new campaign for a tech client next week. I need you to familiarize yourself with the demographics and the previous analytics. Do not disappoint me."

"I won't, Brenda," I said, sitting down and immediately opening the first file.

I threw myself into the work. It was actually a relief. Immersing myself in data and charts kept my mind off *him*. For the first three hours, I managed to almost forget that the man who had given me the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life was sitting just fifty feet away behind a wall of mahogany and glass.

Almost.

Around 11:00 AM, my email pinged.

*From: E. Vance (CEO)*

*To: Chloe Evans (Marketing)*

*Subject: Scarf.*

My heart did a somersault. I looked around the bullpen. No one was paying attention to me. I took a deep breath and opened the email.

There was no text in the body. Just a single photo attachment.

I clicked it, my hand trembling on the mouse.

It was a photo of a silk scarf. It was the exact same blush pink color as the one I was wearing. But the photo was cropped close, showing the fabric draped over what looked like the arm of a leather chair. Beside the scarf in the photo was a pair of glasses. *My* glasses. I had left them on his nightstand in the hotel room on Thursday.

I gasped softly, slapping a hand over my mouth.

I stared at the screen. He had my glasses. He was thinking about me. He was looking at the scarf on my neck right now, knowing exactly what he was looking at.

I typed back, my fingers flying across the keys.

*Mr. Vance, I believe you have something of mine. May I retrieve them later?*

I hit send and instantly regretted it. Was I being too forward? Too familiar?

His reply came instantly.

*From: E. Vance*

*To: Chloe Evans*

*Subject: RE: Scarf*

*You look like you're trying to hide something, Miss Evans. It's distracting. My office. 12:30 PM. Bring your notepad.*

My stomach dropped. *Distracting.* He was the CEO. He could fire me for being a distraction. But the underlying tone... it wasn't anger. It was hunger.

The next hour dragged by. I couldn't focus on the demographics. I read the same paragraph about target audiences three times without absorbing a single word. I kept glancing at the clock on my computer screen. 12:15. 12:20. 12:28.

At 12:29, I stood up. I grabbed my notepad and a pen. I walked toward his office door, feeling like I was marching to the gallows, or maybe to my execution, or maybe to my ruin.

I knocked.

"Come in."

I opened the door and stepped inside. The blinds were drawn today, casting the room in a dim, shadowed light. It felt private. Intimate.

Elias was sitting behind his desk, but he wasn't working. He was leaning back in his chair, watching the door, waiting for me.

I closed the door behind me. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

He didn't speak immediately. He let the silence stretch, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. His eyes traveled down my body, taking in the trousers, the silk blouse, and finally, lingering on the scarf.

"Take it off," he said. His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The scarf, Chloe. Take it off."

I reached up with trembling fingers. I undid the knot and let the silk slide from my neck. I held it in my hand, unsure of what to do with it.

"Put it on the desk," he commanded.

I walked forward and placed the scrap of fabric on the corner of his desk. As I pulled my hand back, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His grip was warm, his thumb pressing against the pulse point in my wrist. I knew he could feel my heart racing.

"You're hiding from me," he murmured, looking up at me through his dark lashes. "You cover my mark. You dress like a nun. Are you ashamed of what happened, Chloe?"

"No," I breathed out. "I just... I work here now. You said business is business."

"It is," he agreed, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin of my inner wrist. "And professionally speaking, you are an excellent candidate. You're sharp. Eager. But right now, in this room, we are not CEO and Junior Associate."

I swallowed hard. "We aren't?"

He stood up. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He didn't let go of my wrist. He tugged me gently, pulling me around the desk so I was standing right in front of him, trapped between his hard body and the edge of the heavy desk.

"No," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Right now, I am the man who hasn't been able to stop thinking about you since you walked out of that hotel room."

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out my glasses. He unfolded them slowly, the metal clicking in the quiet room.

"You left these," he said. He brought them up to my face, sliding them onto my nose with a tenderness that made my chest ache.

I adjusted them on my face, blinking as the room came into sharper focus. I hadn't realized how blurry everything had been without them.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"You're welcome," he said. But he didn't step back. He placed his hands on the desk on either side of my hips, caging me in. He leaned in close, his face inches from mine. "Now, tell me. Have you thought about me?"

I nodded, unable to lie. "Yes."

"What have you thought about?"

I bit my lip. "Elias..."

"Tell me," he ordered softly. "Or I might have to assume you haven't been doing your job properly. And that would be... unfortunate."

The threat was playful, but his eyes were dark with desire.

"I thought about your hands," I admitted, my voice shaky. "I thought about what you did to me in the hotel."

A low growl rumbled in his chest. "Just my hands?"

"And your mouth," I added, feeling a flush spread down my chest. "And... everything."

"Good girl," he murmured.

The praise sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. I gripped the edge of the desk, my knuckles turning white.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "I've been thinking about you too. I've been thinking about how you looked when you came. How you tasted."

I let out a soft whimper. This was insane. Anyone could knock on the door. Brenda could come looking for me. But I couldn't move. I didn't want to move.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dropping to my mouth. "I want to kiss you right now, Chloe. I want to bend you over this desk and remind you who you belong to."

"We can't," I gasped, though my body was screaming *yes we can*. "Not here. It's too risky."

He smirked, a devilish glint in his eye. "Scared?"

"Practical," I countered, though my voice was breathless.

He studied me for a long moment, the battle between his duty and his desire playing out on his face. Finally, he sighed, a sound of frustration.

"You're right," he said, though he didn't look happy about it. "I have a board meeting in ten minutes. And you have work to do."

He pushed off the desk, creating distance between us. The cool air rushed in to fill the space where his body heat had been. I felt suddenly cold, abandoned.

"But," he added, walking around to sit back in his chair. He picked up a pen, his eyes locking onto mine. "This isn't over. It's only just begun."

I smoothed down my trousers, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "I should get back."

"Miss Evans?"

I paused at the door, my hand on the handle.

"Leave the scarf," he said, picking up the pink silk strip and twirling it around his finger. "I think I'll keep it. For inspiration."

My face burned. "Mr. Vance."

"Dismissed," he said, smirking as he looked down at his paperwork.

I walked out of his office, closing the door behind me. I leaned against the wall for a second, exhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding. My knees were weak. My body was thrumming with unfulfilled need.

I walked back to my desk, feeling the eyes of the office on me. Or maybe I was just paranoid. I sat down and stared at my computer screen, trying to focus.

Ping…

Another email.

From: E. Vance

To: Chloe Evans

Subject: Meeting Notes.

I opened it.

“You looked flustered when you left. If you need to take a moment in the restroom to compose yourself, I understand. Just don't take too long. I'm watching.”

I looked up at the glass wall of his office. The blinds were slanted, but I could see the silhouette of his figure sitting at the desk. Was he watching me right now?

I shifted in my seat, the fabric of my trousers brushing against my sensitive skin. I was so turned on it was painful. He was teasing me. He was sitting in his office, calm and collected, knowing that he had completely unraveled me with just a few words and a touch of his hand.

Two could play at that game.

I sat up straighter. I picked up my pen. I opened the file Brenda had given me.

I typed back a reply.

From: Chloe Evans

To: E. Vance

Subject: RE: Meeting Notes

“I am perfectly composed, sir. Though I think you might have dropped this...”

I hit send.

A moment later, his reply came.

From: E. Vance

To: Chloe Evans

Subject: RE: Meeting Notes

“Dropped what?”

I smiled to myself. It was risky. It was dangerous. But I typed it anyway.

From: Chloe Evans

To: E. Vance

Subject: RE: Meeting Notes

Your composure. You seemed a little tense in there. Maybe you should take your own advice.

I hit send and held my breath.

The silhouette in the office stood up. He walked to the window. He adjusted the blinds, tilting them so he could see me clearly.

My phone buzzed. Not an email this time. A text message.

Unknown Number: Careful, little girl. You're playing with fire.

I looked up at the window. I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was looking right at me.

I picked up my phone and typed back.

Chloe: I like the heat.

I set my phone down and smiled to myself. I turned back to my work, but the numbers on the page no longer mattered. The game was on. And for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of losing. I was just excited to see how far we would go.

To be continued……