Chapter 8
1136 Words
The morning air inside the office felt heavy, laced with anticipation. Brielle sat at the conference table, her laptop open, fingers hovering over the keys, but her mind was far from the financial analysis on the screen. Owen had been distant since their last encounter.
They hadn’t spoken about the proposal since, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he pushed for an answer. Her career, her future—it all seemed to hang on one decision. The weight of it pressed down on her.
The soft click of the door opening made her sit up straighter. She knew it was him before she even looked. Owen walked in with an air of command, his posture straight, his eyes sharp. His suit, perfectly tailored, accentuated the broadness of his shoulders. His gaze found hers immediately, and for a brief second, the room felt smaller, more intimate.
“Are we ready to discuss the merger?” His voice was calm, but beneath it was a tension that Brielle could feel.
“Yes, just pulling up the reports,” she responded, trying to keep her voice steady. She focused on her screen, though she could sense his eyes on her. Every glance in her direction seemed to weigh her down, filling the room with an unspoken tension.
Owen sat across from her, his movements deliberate, as if he controlled not just the room, but the very air around them. He studied her as if assessing not just her work but something deeper. It made Brielle's skin tingle with awareness.
“Brielle,” he said after a few moments of silence, his voice lower now, almost soft, “about our conversation last time.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Here it was—the topic she’d been dreading.
“You should make your decision quick,” he continued... “I don’t have the luxury of waiting.”
She bit her lip, trying to steady her breathing. “You really think this is the best solution? A marriage… between us, Mr. Walton?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”
The word was simple, direct. It left no room for doubt or compromise.
“I don’t understand,” she said, leaning forward, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why me? You could marry anyone. You don’t need me.”
Owen’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his tone taking on a more personal edge.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice smooth, calculated. “I don’t need to marry you. But you’re here. You’re capable. And the deal demands stability. A wife. It’s not about choice. It’s about necessity.”
The words hit Brielle like a cold gust of wind. She was nothing more than a pawn in a larger game, and yet… there was something about the way he looked at her. Something more.
“You’ll still have your job,” he added, his gaze steady on hers. “And everything that comes with it. Or you can walk away.”
There it was—his power over her, laid bare. Brielle felt her pulse quicken. He wasn’t begging or pleading. He was in control, dictating the terms of her life without flinching.
“I don’t want to get married just for a business deal,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
His eyes darkened, his jaw tensing. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Brielle. We do what we must to survive in this world—Listen, life is a risky game, not a bed of roses.”
The intensity of his words wrapped around her like a vice. The room seemed to close in on them, the tension between them suffocating. For a moment, neither spoke, the air thick with the weight of everything unsaid.
Then, without warning, Owen stood, moving around the table to her side. He stopped inches from her, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body. She looked up, meeting his eyes—those dark, unreadable eyes that seemed to see right through her.
“You really think this is what I want?” His voice was cold, laced with an almost mocking tone. “Bold of you to actually think I would settle for you.”
The words hit Brielle like a cold gust of wind. She was nothing more than a pawn in a larger game, and yet… there was something about the way he looked at her. Something more.
Brielle’s breath hitched as his hand brushed lightly against her arm, almost as if testing the boundary between them. His touch sent a shiver down her spine. She felt trapped in the moment, torn between fear and something else, something she wasn’t ready to name.
“Owen—” she started, but the words died in her throat as his fingers traced up to her neck, grazing her skin ever so softly. Her pulse raced, and she found herself unable to move, completely captivated by the intensity of his presence.
But just as quickly as the moment had come, it shattered.
The door swung open with a loud creak, startling both of them. Brielle jumped back, her heart slamming against her chest, and Owen straightened, his expression hardening instantly.
A junior staff member stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, clearly sensing the tension in the room. “Uh… I… I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she stammered, her face turning red as she clutched a folder to her chest. “I just—um, I have the updated figures for the Lannister deal.”
Owen’s face was a mask of cool control again, the moment between him and Brielle already locked away behind that impenetrable exterior. “Leave it on the desk,” he said calmly, though his voice carried an edge.
The staff member nodded quickly and dropped the folder on the desk, hurrying out without another word, the door clicking shut behind her.
Silence stretched between Owen and Brielle for several long moments. She could feel her heart still racing, the tension between them more palpable than ever. Whatever had just happened—whatever line had almost been crossed—was now hanging in the air, unfinished.
Owen cleared his throat, his voice returning to its usual authoritative tone. “You have until the end of the week, Brielle.”
Her stomach twisted into knots. The power he held over her was suffocating. This wasn’t just a business proposal—it was her entire life he was asking her to hand over.
“I understand,” she managed to say, though her voice trembled.
Without another word, Owen turned and walked out of the room, leaving Brielle alone with her racing thoughts.
- Writer
