Claimed in the boardroom

Chapter 2.

Chapter 2: Shadows of Secrets

The elevator’s ding echoes like a gunshot in Dorian’s sleek penthouse office. My hand freezes over the contract, the words ownership of Windsor Books burning into my brain. I spin around, heart slamming against my ribs, expecting a security guard or worse. Instead, it’s a woman—petite, with a sharp bob and a leather jacket that screams trouble. Her dark eyes flick from me to Dorian, and a smirk tugs at her lips.

“Am I interrupting?” she asks, her voice dripping with amusement.

Dorian’s jaw tightens, his gray eyes storm clouds. “Mia Chen,” he says, like her name’s a curse. “What are you doing here?”

My best friend steps into the room, her combat boots silent on the marble floor. Relief floods me, but it’s short-lived. Mia’s here, uninvited, in Dorian Kaine’s fortress. That’s not just bold—it’s reckless.

“Mia?” I blurt, my voice a mix of shock and panic. “How did you—”

“Tracked your phone,” she says, tossing her hair like it’s no big deal. “You didn’t think I’d let you sign your life away without backup, did you?”

I glance at Dorian, whose expression could freeze hell. “You tracked her?” he says, stepping toward Mia. “That’s a bold move for a journalist with no clearance.”

Mia doesn’t flinch. “Bold’s my middle name, Kaine. And I’m not here for you. I’m here for her.” She jerks her thumb at me, but her eyes never leave his.

My head’s spinning. The contract’s hidden clause—ownership of Windsor Books—sits like a bomb on the desk, and now Mia’s here, stirring up trouble. I need answers, but I also need to keep this from exploding.

“Mia, let’s talk outside,” I say, moving toward her.

“Not so fast,” Dorian cuts in, his voice low and dangerous. He grabs the contract, tucking it into a drawer with a speed that makes my stomach lurch. “You saw nothing, Talia.”

“Saw nothing?” I snap, my fear morphing into anger. “There’s a clause in there about my bookstore. You think I’m just gonna ignore that?”

His eyes flicker, something like guilt flashing before it’s gone. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then explain it!” I say, my voice louder than I mean it to be. The Manhattan skyline glitters behind him, but all I see is the man who might’ve just conned me out of Gran’s legacy.

Mia steps between us, her small frame vibrating with energy. “Yeah, Kaine, explain. Or I start digging. And trust me, I’m good at digging.”

Dorian’s gaze cuts to her, sharp as a blade. “You’re out of your depth, Chen. Stay out of this.”

“Or what?” Mia challenges, crossing her arms. “You’ll buy me off too? How much for my silence—ten mil, like Talia?”

“Enough!” I shout, my hands shaking. The air’s thick with tension, and I feel like I’m drowning in it. “Both of you, stop. Dorian, tell me what that clause means. Now.”

He hesitates, his fingers twitching like he’s fighting an urge to reach for me. “It’s a safeguard,” he says finally, his voice tight. “If you break the contract, I need leverage. The bookstore was… convenient.”

“Convenient?” My voice cracks, and I hate how much it hurts. “That’s my grandmother’s life’s work. My life. You think you can just take it?”

“I won’t,” he says, stepping closer. His cedar scent hits me, and I hate how it makes my pulse race. “Not if you hold up your end.”

Mia snorts. “Classic billionaire. Dangle a fortune, hide the strings. Talia, you can’t trust this guy.”

I look between them—Dorian, all control and secrets, and Mia, all fire and loyalty. My heart’s screaming to run, but Gran’s voice whispers: Keep the stories alive. I signed the contract. I’m in this, clause or no clause.

“Fine,” I say, my voice steadying. “I’ll play your game, Dorian. But if you’re lying, I’ll burn your world down.”

His lips twitch, almost a smile. “Noted, Mrs. Kaine.”

Mia groans. “Ugh, don’t call her that. It’s creepy.”

“Get used to it,” Dorian says, his eyes locked on mine. “She’s my wife now.”

---

The next week is a whirlwind that leaves me dizzy. Dorian’s driver moves my stuff—two suitcases and a box of Gran’s books—to his Manhattan penthouse, a glass-and-steel palace that feels like a museum. Every morning, I wake up to a view of Central Park, but it’s Dorian’s rules that suffocate me: smile at events, charm his investors, don’t ask questions. I’m playing a role, but every time his hand brushes mine or his eyes linger too long, I forget it’s fake.

Tonight, we’re at a rooftop gala in the financial district, the kind of place where champagne costs more than my rent used to. My red gown—picked by Dorian’s stylist—hugs my curves, and I feel like an imposter among the elite. Dorian’s at my side, his hand on my lower back, guiding me through a sea of suits and sequins.

“Smile, Talia,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “They’re watching.”

I plaster on a grin, nodding at some tech mogul whose name I’ve already forgotten. “I’m trying,” I whisper back. “But these heels are killing me.”

His chuckle is low, almost human. “You’re doing fine. Better than fine.”

My cheeks heat, and I hate how his words make me feel. “Don’t get used to it,” I say, sipping my champagne to hide my nerves.

He leans closer, his fingers tightening on my waist. “Too late.”

Before I can snap back, a man approaches—tall, blond, with a scar across his cheek that makes my skin crawl. His blue eyes are cold, predatory, and he’s staring at me like I’m prey.

“Dorian,” the man says, his voice smooth but sharp. “And this must be the new Mrs. Kaine.”

Dorian’s grip on me tightens, almost painful. “Victor,” he says, his tone ice. “Didn’t expect you here.”

Victor’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t miss it. Congratulations, Talia. You’re quite the… acquisition.”

I bristle, but Dorian speaks first. “Watch yourself, Sloane.”

Victor laughs, raising his glass. “Always do. Enjoy your night, Kaine. It’s a long year ahead.”

He melts into the crowd, but his words linger like a bad taste. I turn to Dorian, my voice low. “Who was that?”

“No one you need to worry about,” he says, but his jaw’s tight, his eyes scanning the room.

“Don’t do that,” I snap, pulling away. “You promised no lies.”

He looks at me, and for a second, I see something raw—fear, maybe, or guilt. “Victor Sloane is trouble,” he says finally. “Stay away from him.”

“Why?” I press, my heart racing. “What’s he got on you?”

Dorian’s silent, his gaze flicking to the skyline. I want to push, but a woman in a glittering gown interrupts, gushing about Dorian’s latest AI project. I play my part, smiling and nodding, but my mind’s on Victor—and that clause.

---

Later, back in the penthouse, I can’t sleep. The city’s lights pulse through the windows, and Dorian’s locked himself in his office, as usual. I’m in my room—separate from his, thank God—pacing in my pajamas, the contract’s words haunting me. Ownership of Windsor Books. Was it really just leverage, or is Dorian playing a deeper game?

My phone buzzes. A text from Mia: Found something on Kaine. Call me. NOW.

I dial her, my hands sweaty. “What is it?” I whisper, glancing at the door.

“Talia, you’re in deep,” Mia says, her voice urgent. “I hacked into some old Kaine Enterprises files. There’s stuff about Dorian’s sister, Elise. She died five years ago, and it wasn’t an accident.”

My stomach drops. “What do you mean?”

“Police reports say it was a hit-and-run, but there’s a memo—Dorian was digging into her death, like, obsessed. And get this: Victor Sloane was her fiancé.”

I freeze, Victor’s cold eyes flashing in my mind. “Fiancé?”

“Yeah,” Mia says. “And there’s more. Dorian’s AI project? It’s tied to some shady shell companies. I think he’s hiding something big.”

Before I can respond, I hear a creak outside my door. My heart leaps into my throat. “Mia, hold on,” I whisper, tiptoeing to the door. I crack it open, expecting Dorian, but the hallway’s empty—except for a folded note on the floor.

I pick it up, my fingers trembling. The words are typed, stark: Get out before you end up like Elise.

The phone slips from my hand, Mia’s voice a faint buzz as I stare at the note. Footsteps echo down the hall, slow and deliberate, and I realize I’m not alone.