Mysticle722
- Reads 1,689
- Votes 102
- Parts 20
A hyper-fixated control freak with an empire to inherit. A self-made day trader who lives in the volatility. He runs on rigid rules; she breaks every single one.
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The heavy oak door of the archives clicked shut behind me at 7:12 PM. Twelve minutes late.
Kane was already waiting in the dim, quiet alcove. His posture was rigid, his laptop aligned perfectly parallel to the edge of the mahogany table, his dark eyes fixed on the silver watch resting against his wrist. The calm, sweet golden-boy mask was nowhere to be found-only the cold, unyielding precision underneath.
"Twelve minutes, Amelia," Kane murmured, his voice dropping an octave as he slowly stood up, closing the distance between us until I was backed against the edge of the high bookshelf. The scent of rain and fresh cedar rolled off him, heavy and suffocating. "Twelve minutes of uncalculated delay."
"The market swung two hundred points at close, Sterling," I shot back, my pulse hammering against my ribs as I tilted my head up to meet his dark, furious gaze. "I was locking in a six-figure profit while you were staring at the clock."
"I don't give a damn about the profit," he rasped, leaning in until his breath brushed against my lips, trapping me completely in his space. His hand slammed onto the wood right beside my head, his knuckles white with tension. "I care that you think you can walk into my life, blow up my schedule, and drive me completely out of my fucking mind without consequences."
I held my breath, the air between us suddenly thin, charged, and dangerous.
"Then handle it, Sterling," I whispered, my voice barely a thread, refusing to back down. "Or are you afraid to touch something you can't control?"
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