Ava's hands trembled as she clutched the thick company directory. Its pages were heavy with names, titles, and connections that blurred before her exhausted eyes. The sterile light of Lucien Drake's office carved sharp shadows across the mahogany desk, making the space feel colder, smaller, despite its luxury.
She stood at the center of the room. Her legs ached from hours upright. Her throat burned raw from reciting. And he was there. Always there. Watching her with those gray eyes that saw too much.
Lucien leaned back in his leather chair, one ankle crossed over his knee. His tailored suit was immaculate, untouched by the late hour. The skyline glittered behind him through floor-to-ceiling glass, but Ava barely noticed. Her world had shrunk to the weight of the directory, the relentless rhythm of her own voice, and the suffocating presence of the man who owned her time. Her choices. Her everything.
"Again."
His voice cut low, unyielding, slicing through the silence that followed her pause for breath. "From the top."
Ava's heart sank. She'd been at this for hours, forced to recite the names and titles of every employee at Drake International—from the board to junior analysts. It was her punishment for "snooping," as he called it. She had only glanced at a file on his desk. Her file. She hadn't even opened it. But the moment his eyes locked on hers, she'd seen the shift. Cold fury. Possessive control. And now, this.
"I—I can't," she whispered, voice cracking. Her throat felt shredded, each word like glass. She had been standing since noon. Heels dug into her feet. Calves burned. Her head throbbed from the strain of staying upright beneath his relentless gaze.
"You can." His tone left no space for protest.
Lucien rose from his chair with the ease of a predator. Each step was measured, deliberate, closing the distance in seconds. He stopped just short of her. Too close. His cologne—dark, spiced, intoxicating—filled her lungs, clouding thought. "You will."
Her grip on the directory tightened until her knuckles blanched. She wanted to snap back, to call this madness. To tell him she wasn't a puppet. But memory betrayed her—the kiss on the balcony, the heat of it, the fury, the way her body had yielded against her will. Shame sealed her lips.
"Start with the executive board," he ordered, his growl brushing her skin like a shiver. He didn't touch her, but he didn't have to. His presence pressed against her, stole her air. "Name. Title. Division. Now."
Ava swallowed hard, throat raw. She forced the words out. "Edward Callahan, Chief Financial Officer, Finance Division." Her voice shook, but she continued. "Margaret Voss, Chief Operating Officer, Operations Division."
Lucien's eyes stayed locked on her face. He stood so close she could see the faint stubble shadowing his jaw. His lips pressed tight in a line of control. She stumbled on a mid-level marketing name, and his hand shot out, catching the directory's edge. He didn't take it away, just steadied it. His fingers brushed hers. The touch was electric—sharp, startling.
"Focus." His voice dropped, softer now but edged in danger. "You're not done until I say."
Her eyes darted up, a mistake she regretted instantly. His gaze burned into her, molten and consuming. She wanted to look away. She couldn't. He held her there, stripped bare under his stare. She hated it. Hated him. Yet part of her craved the intensity, the way he looked at her as though nothing else existed.
She forced her voice steady. "Jonathan Reed, Vice President, Strategic Initiatives." Her legs wobbled. She clutched the directory tighter. Words blurred. Her vision swam. Hours of standing. Hours of speaking. Of enduring his scrutiny. Her body begged for rest. Lucien never cared. He never did.
"Keep going."
He stepped closer. His chest brushed the directory now, his tie grazing the pages. His breath touched her cheek, warm and steady against her ragged gasps. "You're not weak, Ava. Don't act like it."
The words stung. But they also sparked something inside her. Defiance. She straightened, ignoring the fire in her muscles, the sandpaper scrape in her throat. "Lillian Harper, Director of Human Resources." Her voice carried more steel this time. Trembling, yes, but stronger. She wouldn't break. Not for him.
Lucien's lips twitched. Almost a smile. But it vanished in a blink. No praise. No acknowledgment. Only his unblinking gaze, tracing her face, her neck, the rise and fall of her chest. It was invasive. Intimate. Her skin burned with shame. And something darker. Something unnamed.
She pressed on, finishing the executive board, then the departments, one by one. Her voice grew hoarse. Every word was effort. But she refused to stop. Pride pushed her forward. Pride—and his eyes on her.
Minutes blurred into hours. Or hours into minutes. Time dissolved under his watch. Her voice failed at last on a junior analyst's name. Nothing came but a rasp. The directory slipped from her shaking hands, thudding against the floor. The sound echoed, sharp in the silence.
Lucien didn't flinch. He stepped closer, erasing the last of the space between them. She felt the heat of his body, the faint brush of his suit against her dress. Her heart thundered, loud enough he must hear it. She braced for fury. For another cold command.
Instead, he turned. Walked to the sideboard.
She froze as he poured water into a crystal glass. The trickle was cruelly clear, reminding her how parched she was. He returned, holding it out. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes—dark, searching—were impossible to read.
"Drink." The word came softer, but still an order.
Ava took it, her fingers brushing his. The spark jolted through her. She nearly dropped it. His hand lingered, steadying hers. Firm. Not forceful. She lifted it to her lips. The water soothed her throat, cool and merciful. She drank deep, eyes locked to his. She couldn't look away.
When she finished, he set the glass aside, brushing her fingers again. Deliberate. Intentional. Her stomach twisted at the contact.
"Again," he whispered.
Her heart plummeted. She parted her lips to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Not just command. Not just punishment. Something deeper. Hunger. Need.
She bent for the directory, her body screaming. Straightened slowly. Met his gaze. For a fleeting second, something flickered in his eyes. Regret? Desire? Humanity? It vanished. The mask slid back into place. Cold. Hard.
"Edward Callahan, Chief Financial Officer, Finance Division," she began again. Her voice was little more than a whisper.
She would endure. She would survive. And one day, she would break Lucien Drake's chains.
But as his eyes burned into hers, Ava wasn't sure freedom was what she wanted.