Entangled with the CEO

Chapter Six

Killian’s POV

The city outside my office glowed like a circuit board—thousands of lights burning, flickering, fading. I’d been staring at them for ten minutes, not really seeing anything. Everyone has gone home, but here I was, buried in documents, projects and quarterly reports, and my mind wasn’t focused on any of it –it was on her.

Arianna Kent.

The woman whose laughter still rang in my head after weeks of our last encounter. The voice that had whispered my name like a secret. And of all the names that had landed on my desk from HR department, hers was one of them.

She hadn’t recognized me that morning. If she did, she hid it well.

But I remembered everything—the faint scent of strawberry, the soft lilt in her speech, the look she given me thinking I was just a stranger passing through her world.

And here she was, now my secretary.

My brother’s little stunt earlier hadn’t helped either. Damian’s jokes always came with sting, and when he told me he’d steal her too, it was more of a threat than wanting to cause havoc. He enjoyed watching me lose composure, even in slightest way.

I exhaled, pushing the thought away. I had more pressing matters to deal with than misplaced emotion.

Arianna Kent wasn’t here by accident. Her father, Richard Kent, had worked for McLeod Industries for fifteen years before he died. He’d been part of a project that almost tanked the company’s credibility five years ago. I was in Hong Kong when it happened, his sudden demise, Damian’s involvement, the way the news was wiped out from every media outlet was intriguing.

Now, his daughter had appeared, résumé impeccable, experience relevant—but timing? Quite suspicious.

Keeping her close isn’t sentiment. It was a strategy. I needed to know if her presence here was a coincidence… or consequence. That was why I got involved and chose her as my private secretary.

If she had an agenda, I’d see it. However, if she didn’t…

I leaned back in my chair, the leather creaking under me. If she didn’t, then I had a different problem entirely.

I have been pursuing this case since for a long time and this might be the key to overthrowing my father and have an upper hand. I did not come back to New York on my own accord, I had to come back to protect my little sister since my father had taken her hostage.

The office had emptied out, most employees had left hours ago. Even my assistant had left at seven but still I could hear the faint sound of the copier down the hall. Someone was still around.

Out of curiosity, I stood up to check who it was. I loosened my tie, the top button of my shirt came undone as I did. I needed air. My reflection in the glass looked every bit the man people described—controlled, unreadable, perhaps even cold. I’d built my reputation out of those qualities.

But tonight, that reflection looked… tired.

I left my office, footsteps echoing, the lights dimmed automatically as I walked past, leaving long shadows stretching behind me. I reached the smaller administrative floor, the light in her office were still on. Arianna was still around.

Of course she was.

Diligent. Ambitious. Determined to prove herself.

I stood at the door for a while before giving a light knock.

She hadn’t notice me at first. Her head was bent over the computer, strands of hair falling loose from her bun. The blue glow of the screen washed over her face. She was talking to herself, quietly.

The same voice I’d heard weeks ago, laughing under neon light.

“Still here?” I asked.

She jumped, then composed herself almost instantly. “Just finishing the financial projections for the launch, sir.”

Her tone was professional, crisp. She didn’t look up right away, and I was grateful. It gave me a moment to study her without restraint—the curve of focus in her brow, the way her lips pressed together in a thin line, the faint tremor of exhaustion in her shoulders.

“You should head home,” I said, keeping my tone even. “Everyone has.”

“I will,” she replied, “once I finish this. I don’t want to delay tomorrow’s briefing.”

“You’ve been working hard,” I said. The compliment slipped out before I could stop it.

Her head lifted, and she smiled. It was small, surprised. “Thank you, sir.”

I should’ve left then. But something held me there—something invincible yet solid, like a tether I couldn’t cut.

I walked toward the window, pretending to look at the city below. “You remind me of someone,” I said.

“Who?” She asked

My throat tightened, I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't. There was a pause as the air between us thickened.

Her perfume—subtle, not the same as before, but close—lingered faintly in the space. I closed my eyes for a second and there it was again: the memory of her moaning against my ear…

I forced the memory back where it belonged—buried. Forgotten.

“What did Damian say to you today?” I asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

She looked confused. “Outside the conference room?”

“Yes.”

“He was just being friendly.”

I almost laughed. “Friendly isn’t in his vocabulary.”

“I can handle myself,” she said, her tone defiant.

“I’m sure you can,” I replied. “But my brother likes to collect things he doesn’t deserve.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And what about you, sir? Do you collect things you don’t deserve?”

The question hit harder than it should have. I met her gaze, holding it until she looked away. “No,” I said quietly. “I only take what I’ve earned.”

The truth was, I didn’t know what I’d earned anymore.

When I finally moved closer to her desk, it was under the guise of professionalism. I pointed to a line on the spreadsheet. “You’re missing a decimal point here.”

We both reached for the same page, and our fingers brushed. It was nothing. A second. A flicker. But it sent a pulse straight through me.

She froze. So did I.

The silence was deafening.

I pulled back first, clearing my throat. “Be careful with details. They define everything.”

Her voice came out softer this time. “Noted.”

I turned to leave, every step deliberate. “You can finish that tomorrow. Go home, Miss Kent.”

“I sure will,” she said, “Goodnight Mr McLeod,” She added.

At the door, I gave a slight nod and walked away.

Down the corridor, I paused by the elevator and let out a slow breath. My reflection in the polished steel doors looked calm, but my pulse betrayed me.

I'd asked myself again why I hired her.

Was it because I needed answers about her father? Or was it because proximity and control was easier when she was in plain sight?

But as the elevator doors slid shut, I realized the truth. Keeping her close wasn’t control.