Lila Hart's pulse raced as she stepped into Alexander Knight's office at Knight Industries. The memory of his violent jealousy in the penthouse lobby still clung to her skin like smoke. His words—"Touch her again, and I'll destroy you"—kept echoing in her head, a cold reminder of the contract that chained her to him.
Two years ago, she had dragged him from a burning car in a rain-slick alley, her hands trembling, heart pounding. That single act of courage had marked her. It had turned his gratitude into obsession—an obsession that blurred the line between desire and control until her life became a battlefield.
Now, as his so-called secretary, she was under his command day and night. Hidden clauses in their contract granted him power over every move she made. The office buzzed with whispers. Some called her his mistress. Others stared with thinly veiled envy. Each look was a blade cutting deep.
Lila clutched a stack of files like a shield. If she focused on work, maybe she could ignore the weight of his gaze. But Alexander's presence was everywhere—sharp, commanding, impossible to escape.
"Lock the door," he said, voice low and dangerous.
The glass walls of his office offered no privacy, yet the blinds were already drawn, shutting out the world. A cocoon of tension settled between them. Lila hesitated, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. She knew exactly what his order meant.
"I'm here to work," she said, setting the files down, trying to keep her voice steady. "Not to play your games."
His mouth curved into a wicked smile. He rose, moving around the desk with the slow, deliberate grace of a predator.
"Work is the game, little flame."
He stopped inches from her. His scent—sandalwood and danger—filled her head. His fingers brushed her wrist as he took the files and tossed them aside.
"You defied me with Caldwell," he said, eyes narrowing. "Now you'll make it up to me."
Her breath caught. Defiance burned in her chest, but her body betrayed her, heat blooming where his touch lingered.
"You don't own me," she snapped, though her voice wavered.
He stepped closer, trapping her against the desk. His hand slid around her waist, pulling her in until she felt the hard press of him against her hip.
"Don't I?" His breath grazed her ear, rough and intimate. Shivers rippled down her spine. His fingers found the hem of her skirt, tracing upward with unbearable slowness. "Your body tells me otherwise, Lila."
His hand slipped beneath the fabric, teasing the edge of her underwear. When his fingers brushed her skin, she gasped, her thighs clenching instinctively.
"Stop," she whispered, but her hands gripped his shoulders instead of pushing him away. The conflict inside her was a storm—fear tangled with want, shame fused with heat.
His fingers slid lower, brushing her through the thin barrier. A low growl vibrated in his chest as his eyes darkened.
"You hate me," he said softly. "But you want this."
He lifted her onto the desk, stepping between her legs. Her blouse strained with each breath, buttons barely holding. When he tugged it open, lace and skin flashed beneath his gaze. His mouth descended to her chest, tongue tracing the curve of her breast through the fabric.
Lila moaned, head tipping back, every thought scattering. She hated the control he held over her—the way he'd twisted her act of saving him into something possessive and consuming. But no matter how hard she fought, her body burned for him.
His hand slid under the lace, cupping her breast. His thumb circled until she arched into him, a soft cry escaping.
"You're mine," he growled against her throat. His mouth left a mark, dark and possessive, as his hand found her again—teasing, never giving her the release she needed. "Say it."
"Never," she gasped, hips trembling against his hand.
He chuckled, low and dark. "Then I'll make you say it."
The sound of his zipper, the heat of his breath—everything blurred until—
A sharp knock shattered the moment.
Lila froze. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Alexander's hand stilled, his jaw tightening.
"Mr. Knight?" a voice called through the door—Claire. The jealousy in her tone was unmistakable. "It's urgent. Veronica's here. She's demanding to see you and Lila."
Lila's blood turned cold.
Veronica. His fiancée.
And she was already closing in.