Daniel's POV
The screen glowed dimly in the quiet room, my fingers hovered over the keyboard—unmoving, uncertain.
From: Daniel Stroke
To: Annabel Green
Subject: Project Design
Annabel,
Any update on the design I gave you tonight?
-Best wishes.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the blinking cursor at the end. My brain kept spiraling from the thought that this might be a bad idea.
I mean, who on earth messages their employee in the middle of the night about work?
But I wanted to hear from her. Work could wait, but I knew this was the only way to get her to talk to me.
Before now, I'd spent my nights buried in contracts and emails, replying to messages until sleep finally took over.
But tonight was different. I couldn't concentrate, no matter how much work was piled up in front of me.
Annabel was in my head, and she wasn't leaving anytime soon.
The thought of her stirred something deep in me, hardening me with want.
A slow, heated smile crept across my face stretching from ear to ear, just thinking about her.
She's different.
There is something about Annabel. Something I can't shake off. It wasn't just her beauty. I was not going after her body with the mind of leaving her after, it was her strength. The more she pulled away, the more I got attracted to her.
And then there's the way she always pushes back, always ready to argue whenever I test her limits.
Her stubbornness drives me insane… yet somehow, it turns me on too.
It took a while, yet no response. I couldn't blame her. It was late, and I didn't expect her to be awake. Not everyone has insomnia like me.
I clicked my teeth with my tongue and decided to find something else to do.
But just then, her email came in. A smile tugged at my lips as I opened it immediately.
From: Annabel Green
To: Daniel Stroke
Subject: Project Design
Mr. Stroke,
I told you this design will take time. I'm still trying to do some finishing touches. I will give you feedback when it is completed.
-Best wishes.
Her response was challenging, like she was in charge. She didn't get to do things on her time; I needed to tell her who was the boss here.
From: Daniel Stroke
To: Annabel Green
Subject: Project Design
Annabel,
I did not stammer when I gave my order. The board will be demanding feedback on that design tomorrow morning. So I give you just thirty minutes to figure out whatever and give me a positive response.
-Best wishes.
I slammed the send button, jaw clenched, pulse pounding in my ears. I wasn't built for this kind of back and forth, not tonight.
She knew exactly which buttons to press. And she pressed them, every damn time.
Her response came almost immediately, like she had seen my message before I sent it.
From: Annabel Green
To: Daniel Stroke
Subject: Project Design
Mr. Stroke,
I'm human too. I worked all day for you, and you don't get to control me at night. I promise to get it done by morning.
-Best wishes.
My heart softened at the sharp edge in the tone of her message. She was right. I knew it. But I couldn't help it, because letting go meant admitting how much I cared.
From: Daniel Stroke
To: Annabel Green
Subject: Project Design
Annabel,
Fine, it's late. Why are you still awake… finding it hard to sleep?
-Best wishes.
Crazy. Of course, I was the one who kept her awake, and here I was acting up. I was tempted to click the backspace, but I pressed send anyway.
It took time before her response came in.
From: Annabel Green
To: Daniel Stroke
Subject: Project Design
Mr. Stroke,
Please don't act like you care. I'm only awake because you decided to punish me with loads of work.
-Best wishes.
What does she mean by that? Of course I care.
She's my only employee that I have messaged at this ungodly hour.
From: Daniel Stroke
To: Annabel Green
Subject: Project Design
If you are feeling uneasy, I can call you on mobile. Maybe talking to someone will make you feel better.
-Best wishes.
From: Annabel Green
To: Daniel Stroke
Subject: Project Design
Maybe you are right about one thing, Mr. Stroke. I think I need someone to make me feel better, and you are definitely not the one.
-Best wishes.
What is she talking about?
From: Daniel Stroke
To: Annabel Green
Subject: Project Design
Annabel,
What do you mean by that?
-Best wishes.
Her message came in immediately—like she was waiting for my reply before she fired back.
From: Annabel Green
To: Daniel Stroke
Subject: Project Design
Mr. Stroke,
I'm going to the Billionaire Club tonight. I just need something to make me feel better because I'm almost going insane with this new job. See you at the office tomorrow.
-Best wishes.
What! How could she be thinking of such a thing? Is she doing all this just to test my patience?
My anger increased. My fingers gripped my laptop like I was going to break it. Fingers curled into fists before running them through my face, then down to my keyboard.
From: Daniel Stroke
To: Annabel Green
Subject: Project Design
Annabel,
You cannot leave my message hanging for such silly excuses. I command you to get to work or take a rest for tomorrow.
-Best wishes.
I waited for her response… but nothing came.
Impatient, I picked up my phone and dialed her number.
No answer. Just that ridiculous robotic voice, cold and detached, sending me straight to voicemail.
It made something twist in my chest.
I was fighting my demons, convincing myself that she could do whatever she chose with her life.
But no.
I still felt the need to stop her. Leaving her to go to that damn club meant only one thing, she would be wrapped in another man's arms. I felt jealousy burn in my chest.
Fuck, I hate that I care.
I'm not used to being this soft with women, but Annabel is bringing out this side of me that I have long kept chained.
I was supposed to let her be, give her space to do her thing.
But something in me wouldn't stay still. I was pushed to go after her… like I didn't have a choice.
I went down, passed the hallway, and went to where the car keys were kept. I picked the key to my Lamborghini and dashed out into the dark.
I was not the type that liked driving myself, it's been years since I took the wheel. But Annabel was going to break this record, and I didn't care anymore.
I drove through the cold, empty street—silent, except for the distant call of birds and the soft glow of streetlights guiding my path.
I was going after her