Chapter 10
Conference Hall: Monday (outside the office.)
Ethan's pov
The conference hall was pristine, the scent of polished wood and sterile air mingling with the subtle hum of whispered conversations. Investors, architects, and clients filled the seats, their eyes flicking between their notes and the projection screen. My hand tightened around the edge of my notes as I waited for my turn. Every muscle in my body was coiled, my mind running through every detail of the presentation. Precision. Authority. Control. That was my armor.
Then, the vibration of my phone in my pocket stole my focus. I hesitated, a fraction of a second, but instinct took over. My thumb flicked the screen, and my blood ran cold.
Jonah: "I know you left the office. I know she's alone. She won't escape me."
The world seemed to narrow. My chest tightened. Every ounce of professionalism I had meticulously built threatened to crumble. Jonah. That name alone made my hands tremble slightly, not from fear, but from protective rage.
I slid the phone back into my pocket and forced calm into my posture. The room quieted. It was my turn. I stepped to the podium, cleared my throat, and let my voice project smoothly.
"Good afternoon," I said, tone steady, eyes sweeping the room, "today I'll present Cole Industries' latest architectural achievements…"
My words were precise, commanding, authoritative. I gestured to the screen, shifted through slides. Each smile I offered was measured, each movement deliberate. But inside, my mind was a storm. Lena. Jonah. Danger.
She must be safe. Guards. My house. I will not allow harm to touch her.
The presentation went on, questions were answered, handshakes exchanged. All the while, my fingers twitched, my pulse quickened. I finished my turn with practiced composure, nodding curtly at the room, but my thoughts were already racing ahead: her safety, the threat, the need to have her under my control tonight.
By the time the meeting concluded, my men were ready. I gave the orders with precise brevity: bring her to my house after work. I wasn't returning to the office today. My focus was singular, her protection, her obedience, her presence.
I imagined her at the office, oblivious to the threat, still completing her designs. I could see her rolling up her sleeves, concentrating, unaware that I had already taken steps to claim her safety. My chest tightened with possessiveness.
She arrived at my house first. I could picture her stepping into the familiar space, taking in the subtle scent of my cologne, the polished surfaces, the minimalism that reflected the control I demanded in every aspect of my life. She looked calm, composed, entirely unaware of my impending presence. My pulse quickened at thought.
----
By the time I pulled into the driveway, the sky had already deepened into that blue-grey that always made the city feel heavier. My headlights cut across the front of the house, and I saw it.
Her car.
My chest tightened. Not with surprise. With satisfaction. She was inside, waiting, exactly where she needed to be.
Good.
I stepped out, closed the car door quietly, and let the silence settle. The guards nodded once from their post, confirming everything had gone smoothly. Good. They followed orders. Tonight, obedience mattered.
I walked inside.
The soft click of the front door made her turn her head. She stood by the counter, small, tense, alert, like she'd been listening for me.
Her eyes lifted slowly. She swallowed.
"Mr. Cole…"
My jaw tightened at the sound of her voice. That mix of uncertainty and something she didn't want to name. Something I felt like a pull under my skin.
"You're early," she whispered.
"I told them to bring you straight here after work," I said. My voice sounded sharper than I intended, but I didn't soften it. I didn't want to. "With Jonah threatening you, I won't take chances."
She lowered her gaze, a wave of tension rolling through her.
"Ethan…" she started, but the name on her lips made something in me twitch.
My steps were slow as I crossed the living room toward her. Controlled. Intentionally measured, because I wanted her to feel each one.
"You left the car last time," I said quietly. "Without my permission."
Her breath caught.
Good. She remembered.
"And disobedience has consequences."
She nodded once—small, nervous, obedient. That subtle compliance sent a sharp, possessive satisfaction straight through my chest.
"Look at me," I commanded softly.
Her eyes lifted immediately, wide and uncertain. I felt her shiver from where I stood.
"You will not move unless I tell you to," I said, my voice low, deliberate, leaving no room for hesitation. "Understood?"
"Yes… Mr. Cole," she whispered.
My pulse reacted to the way she said it. It always did.
I stepped behind her, close enough that she felt my presence, but not touching. Not yet. I watched the way her shoulders tightened, the way her breathing shifted—awareness, anticipation, tension threading through her spine.
"You feel that?" I asked quietly near her ear. "My control?"
A tremor went through her. "Yes…"
"Yes what?" I corrected immediately.
"Yes, Mr. Cole."
Good girl.
I didn't say it aloud, not yet, but the words pressed against my teeth.
I circled her once, slow, taking in every subtle reaction. Every time she inhaled too sharply. Every time her lips parted. Every time her knees threatened to give the smallest buckle when I got too close.
This wasn't about touching her.
This was about control.
About her responding to my presence, my voice, my authority. About claiming back the power Jonah tried to shake.
"You're trembling," I said.
"I—I'm not sure if it's fear or..."
"It doesn't matter," I cut in. "What matters is that you obey."
Her breath hitched again.
Hours passed like that, commands, obedience, tension that hummed under her skin and roared inside mine. I didn't need to be explicit. I didn't need to lay a hand on her.
The power was already there, heavy, magnetic, thick in the air between us.
When I finally stepped close enough for my fingers to graze her cheek, she startled slightly. The smallest gasp left her lips.
My thumb brushed the corner of her jaw. Light. Controlled. Possessive.
"You're mine to protect," I murmured, letting the words sink deep. "You're mine to guide. To correct. To control when necessary."
She swallowed, nodding, breath unsteady.
"Yes, Mr. Cole…"
The way she said it, soft, surrendered, certain, hit me harder than it should have.
Good.
By the time I let her go for the night, the lesson was set. She understood the consequences. The obedience. The authority I wasn't going to let her slip away from again.
And Jonah…
That man had no idea what storm he had just stirred.