The system had formalized its resentment by afternoon.
Manual requests now required dual executive sign-off. Efficiency metrics flickered red in quiet accusation. I ignored them. The real game had moved far beyond dashboards.
I left the executive floor at 5:47 p.m., heels clicking against marble like a countdown. My body still hummed from the day’s collisions—Shawn’s possessive stare burning my skin, Charles’s calculated proximity sliding under it. The ache between my thighs had become a constant companion, a slow, liquid reminder that I was sleeping with one of the most powerful men in the city while pretending neither of them truly owned me.
My private elevator opened to the underground parking reserved for senior leadership. The lights flickered on automatically.
Charles was already
