The elevator ride to the top floor of Donovan Tower was silent except for the erratic thrum of Talia's pulse. She stood rigid beside Kian, her arms folded tightly, jaw clenched. She hated that she could still smell his cologne. Hated more that she wanted to inhale it.
The air between them was charged like a live wire wrapped around a stick of dynamite. She didn't speak. Neither did he not until the elevator doors parted with a soft chime, revealing a private office that looked more like a throne room.
High glass walls.
A desk that gleamed like obsidian, and one chair black leather, wide, dominating. He gestured for her to enter. "Welcome to your new kingdom." She walked in slowly. "This isn't mine."
"It will be," he said, stepping in behind her, locking the door.
"Is that a threat?"
"No. A promise."
She turned to face him. "Why me? There are a hundred women who'd crawl to be under your command." His eyes glinted with something dangerous. "But only one who ran from me." She swallowed.
"That night," he said slowly, stepping closer, "you didn't look back. Not once. You didn't call. You didn't write. You let me fall."
Talia's voice cracked. "You think I didn't suffer?" He moved so close, she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. "Did you?"
"Yes." Her voice was a whisper now.
"Then show me."
He stepped behind her, lips brushing her ear. "Strip."
Her breath caught. "I'm not—"
"I didn't ask if you were ready," he said. "I asked if you would show me what suffering looked like."
Her heart pounded. This was wrong. This was twisted. This was a power play. But it was also him and her and something ancient inside her ached to answer. Her hands shook as they reached behind her, fingers unclasping the zipper of her dress. The silk whispered down her curves like a sin being peeled away.
Kian stepped in front of her again, his gaze dropping to her lace-covered body. She stood in nothing but black lingerie and trembling pride. He didn't touch her. He didn't have to.
"You're still beautiful," he said. "But that's not what I want from you."
"Then what do you want?" she asked, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
"I want your control," he said, voice low. "Piece by piece." He circled her slowly, like a man inspecting something he already owned.
"Put your hands on the desk."
She hesitated.
"Now."
She obeyed, heart racing, palms flat on the cold glass. Her back arched slightly, body hyperaware of every sound, every inch of space between them. Then she felt it, his hand, dragging down the curve of her spine. Firm. Measured. Possessive.
She gasped.
"You think I want revenge?" he whispered behind her. "That I want to hurt you?"
"I don't know what you want anymore," she said hoarsely.
"I want to own the part of you no one's ever touched," he said. "Not your body. Your surrender." She turned her head slightly. "You think I'll beg?" he leaned forward, mouth brushing her shoulder.
"I think you'll break yourself just to keep from begging."
His hand slid down her side, fingers grazing the edge of her panties. He didn't move further just teased, hovered like a threat and a promise in one.
"You feel it too, don't you?" he murmured.
She hated that her thighs were trembling. That her breath was shallow. That her nipples had hardened against the lace. "Yes," she admitted, barely audible. "Good," he said. Then he stepped away. And just like that, the warmth was gone.
She turned, shocked. "That's it?"
Kian's eyes darkened. "Not even close. That was your first test."
"Of what?"
He picked up a sleek black box from his desk, tossing it into her hands. It was smooth. Velvet. Heavy.
"What is this?"
"Your new keycard," he said. "You now have access to this office. To this building. To your new role."
She opened it a sleek card, embossed with her name: Talia Voss. Executive Liaison.
Her brow furrowed. "Executive Liaison? What kind of title is that?"
He smirked. "It means you report directly to me. You work when I say. Where I say. How I say."
Her pulse stuttered. "And if I refuse?"
He leaned in, just a breath away. "Then I'll show the board the footage from tonight."
Her blood ran cold. "You recorded us?"
"No," he said. "But the cameras in this building never stop. You should've known better." She shoved the box back into his chest. "You're blackmailing me."
"I'm giving you a choice," he said. "Walk out of here and watch your name burn… or stay, and take back control by surrendering it."
Her eyes burned. "Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered.
"Because you're the only one who ever mattered," he said simply. "And I want to know what it feels like to finally have all of you."
She stared at him, fury and lust colliding in her chest like a car crash. Then she slid the keycard into her purse, turned toward the door, and said, "See you at nine, sir."
His smirk followed her as she walked away, bare shoulders held high, defiance in every step but her legs were shaking and she hated how much she wanted to go back.