Chapter Five
957 Words
The Zurich victory should have been enough. The deal had closed in their favor, the numbers dazzling, the competitors blindsided. Elena had done her job, proved herself, silenced at least some of the whispers.
And yet the victory felt hollow.
Because of what she had overheard in Vienna.
Because of the way Alexander’s hand had lingered at her back during the waltz, guiding her as though she were his to command.
Because of the way her pulse still raced whenever she thought of him.
She told herself it was nothing. An infatuation. A dangerous slip. But the truth was harder to bury: she was drawn to him in ways she couldn’t explain, ways she didn’t want to explain. And she hated herself for it.
It happened late one night in London.
The building was nearly empty, the city lights glittering beyond the glass walls like a sea of stars. Elena had been summoned to Alexander’s office—another “urgent” revision to a proposal that was already airtight. She told herself it was business. Strictly business.
But her body betrayed her the moment she stepped inside.
He stood at the window, jacket discarded, tie loosened, his silhouette carved against the skyline. He turned as she entered, his eyes sharp, unreadable.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I wasn’t expecting to be summoned at midnight,” she replied, her voice cooler than she felt.
He smirked faintly. “Business doesn’t sleep.”
“Neither do you, apparently.”
He moved closer, laying a folder on the desk. “This needs fixing.”
She opened it, scanning quickly. “There’s nothing wrong with this. The numbers are solid. Unless…” She looked up at him, suspicion rising. “Unless you just wanted me here.”
The air shifted. His gaze locked on hers, heavy with something unspoken.
“You think too highly of yourself, Miss Rossi,” he murmured.
Her throat tightened. “Do I?”
Silence stretched between them. Her heart pounded so hard she thought he must hear it.
And then he was closer—too close. She could smell the faint trace of cedar and smoke, see the flecks of steel in his eyes. His hand brushed the folder shut, their fingers grazing. The contact jolted through her like fire.
“This is a mistake,” she whispered.
He didn’t move back. “Then why can’t you walk away?”
Her breath caught. Neither of them moved. The city stretched endlessly behind him, but all Elena saw was his face, the pull of something inevitable.
And then, suddenly, his mouth was on hers.
The kiss was fierce, hungry, nothing like she had imagined. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her against him, and she melted into him despite every reason not to. Heat surged through her, drowning out thought, drowning out fear. She kissed him back, matching his hunger, until the line between fury and desire disappeared.
They broke apart only long enough to breathe. His forehead pressed against hers, his voice rough.
“This is dangerous.”
Her voice trembled. “I know.”
And then they were lost again—against the desk, against the wall, the taste of him, the strength of his hands, the wild abandon that made her forget who she was, where she was, why this was madness.
By the time it ended, they were both breathless, disheveled, their control in tatters.
Alexander pulled back first, his chest rising sharply. His eyes burned with something raw, but his voice was steady.
“This never happened,” he said.
Elena’s lips still tingled, her pulse still racing. “You don’t believe that.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he turned away, giving her the chance to leave.
She should have walked out. She should have gathered what dignity she had left and fled.
But something caught her eye.
A drawer in his desk, left slightly ajar. Inside, a folder. And on the spine of that folder, written in bold black letters, was her name.
Elena froze.
Careful not to make a sound, she edged closer, her breath shallow. She slid the drawer open just enough to see. Inside: documents, neatly organized. Reports. Personal details. A photograph clipped to the top—of her.
Her stomach dropped.
Why would Alexander keep a file on her?
“Curiosity is a dangerous thing, Miss Rossi.”
Her blood turned to ice. She looked up. He was watching her, his expression unreadable.
The folder remained where it was, untouched between them.
“I—” Her voice broke. “Why do you—?”
He stepped closer, closing the drawer with deliberate slowness. His gaze never left hers.
“Some things,” he said quietly, “are better left unasked.”
The silence pressed heavy. She wanted to demand answers, to scream, to run. But all she could do was stand there, her pulse crashing in her ears.
And then, softly, he touched her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin. The same man who had just kissed her senseless now looked at her as though she were both precious and expendable.
“You’ll ruin me,” he whispered.
Her chest tightened. “Or you’ll ruin me.”
His lips curved, not in a smile, but in something darker. “Perhaps both.”
He let her go then, stepping back into the shadows.
“Goodnight, Elena.”
Her legs shook as she walked out of the office, every nerve on fire.
The door closed behind her with a soft click, but her world had already shifted.
She had crossed a line she could never uncross.
And worse—she no longer knew if she was Alexander’s partner…
Or his prey.
- Writer
