Simon was in his office, engrossed in his work when Stella appeared at the door, her arms crossed and her expression defiant. She wasn't thrilled about the so-called "test" he had in store for her, but curiosity got the better of her.
"So, what exactly are you planning to test me on?" Stella asked, her tone laced with skepticism as she stepped inside the room.
Simon glanced up from his desk, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Come, sit," he said, gesturing to the chair beside him.
Rolling her eyes, she reluctantly complied, plopping into the chair with an exaggerated sigh. He slid his laptop toward her, his expression turning serious. "Check for errors in this document. Review the data, cross-check the figures, and give me a flawless account of the projections for next month," he ordered, his tone sharp and commanding.
Stella raised an eyebrow, her defiance flaring. "And why, exactly, would I do this? Do you want me to tell your boss that you're so inefficient you need me to handle your office work?" she retorted, leaning back in the chair with an air of challenge.
Simon's smirk deepened, his sharp gaze locking onto hers. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a teasing yet authoritative tone. "Sweetheart, I don't have a boss," he said, his words slow and deliberate, "I am the boss."
Her frown deepened as she processed his words. "What do you mean?" she asked, sitting up straighter.
"You're currently sitting with the CEO and founder of Blackstone Security," Simon revealed, his tone dripping with confidence.
Stella blinked, her jaw dropping slightly. "You're the CEO?" she exclaimed, unable to hide her shock.
She knew about Blackstone Security—it was a juggernaut in the corporate world, a company renowned for its unparalleled success. But the fact that Simon, the infuriating man in front of her, was the mastermind behind it all left her stunned. She had heard whispers about the enigmatic CEO, but no one seemed to know much about him. Now she understood why.
"Get to work," Simon ordered curtly, cutting through her thoughts as he returned to his own laptop without another glance.
Stella glared at him, her irritation bubbling beneath the surface. He was insufferable, arrogant, and maddeningly smug—but also undeniably brilliant. Sighing in resignation, she began scrolling through the document, vowing silently to prove him wrong in some way, any way.
Minutes stretched into hours as Stella remained engrossed in the task he'd given her. Her determination to prove herself drove her to meticulously review every detail. Finally, she leaned back in the chair, exhaling sharply. "Done," she announced, pushing the papers toward Simon.
Simon skimmed through her work, nodding in approval. "Looks like my tutoring paid off," he remarked, his voice teasing. Stella shot him a glare that could rival daggers, though she begrudgingly acknowledged he was an exceptional teacher.
Before she could revel in her accomplishment, Simon handed her a sleek model of a prototype gun, along with a stack of documents. "Now," he began, his tone shifting to business, "I need ideas on how to improve this. Go through the details and note any corrections. These weapons are critical; if successful, my company will secure the contract to supply military-grade equipment."
Stella arched an eyebrow but nodded, silently accepting the challenge. She dove into the information, her focus unwavering. Simon leaned back in his chair, a subtle smile playing on his lips. He knew the monotony of the island could easily frustrate her. Keeping her occupied with meaningful tasks wasn't just strategic; it was his way of keeping her grounded, even if she didn't realize it.
Hours passed, and Simon stepped out to take a call. Stella remained absorbed in her work, her hand scribbling notes and corrections. Fatigue eventually claimed her, and her head lolled forward as she dozed off in the chair, her pen slipping from her fingers.
When Simon returned to the room, the sight of her stopped him in his tracks. Stella's delicate frame was slumped forward in the chair, her head tilted slightly to one side, strands of her hair falling over her face. Her breathing was soft and steady, her chest rising and falling in rhythm. On the desk in front of her lay a neatly stacked pile of papers, each filled with meticulous corrections she'd spent hours crafting.
Simon's expression softened as he took in the scene. The stubborn fire in her eyes he'd sparred with earlier was now replaced by a rare tranquility in her sleep. He approached her quietly, crouching beside the chair to study her face. There was a vulnerability there, hidden beneath her usual sharp wit and defiance, one he found himself strangely drawn to.
Careful not to wake her, he slipped an arm beneath her legs and another under her back, lifting her effortlessly. Holding her this close, he could feel the faint warmth radiating from her body, the way her lashes fluttered slightly as if caught in a dream.
He carried her toward the bed, each step deliberate, his heightened senses catching the faint lavender scent clinging to her skin and her steady heartbeat. As he gently laid her down, the soft fabric of her night robe shifted. It fell slightly off her shoulder, revealing the smooth expanse of her collarbone and the delicate curve of her neck.
Simon stilled. His gaze locked on her exposed skin, and a familiar hunger surged through him, sharp and relentless. Her pulse, steady and strong, echoed in his ears, a siren call to the predator within. His jaw clenched as his fangs threatened to descend, the primal instinct to claim her battling against his resolve.
The room seemed to shrink around him, the air thick with tension. For a moment, the line between control and surrender blurred, his hand hovering near her neck. But Simon drew a deep breath, forcing himself to step back from the edge. Not now. Not like this.
Instead, he leaned down, his lips ghosting over the hollow of her neck. A featherlight kiss, more a whisper of a touch than anything else, lingered there, followed by another pressed gently against her parted lips. The kiss was tender, restrained, but it carried the weight of emotions he refused to acknowledge aloud.
Straightening, Simon tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and took one last lingering look at her peaceful face. Then, with a resolve that burned as fiercely as his hunger, he turned and left the room, his own desires driving him toward the only sustenance that would quell his darker urges—for now.