The scent of his cologne hit her first, a dangerous mix of sandalwood and something uniquely him, before she even saw him. It cut through the sterile, recycled air of the corporate lobby, a silent announcement of his arrival.
"You're early, Miss Vance. I'm impressed."
Lena didn't turn from the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the rain-slicked city. She kept her voice level, a feat considering her heart was trying to hammer its way out of her chest. "Punctuality is a sign of respect, Mr. Thorne. Or so I was taught."
A low chuckle sounded behind her. "Respect. An interesting choice of word to start with."
Finally, she turned. Alexander Thorne stood a few feet away, looking less like the CEO of a billion-dollar tech empire and more like a predator who'd just found his favorite prey. His charcoal suit was impeccably tailored, his dark hair swept back, but his eyes—those piercing, unnervingly intelligent blue eyes—held a glint that had nothing to do with business. It was the same look he'd given her across the crowded charity gala two weeks ago, the look that had started this dangerous dance.
"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward the private elevator bank. "The board is expecting a finalized proposal on the Vance Media merger by five. We have a lot to discuss."
The elevator ride to the penthouse suite was a study in tense silence. Lena clutched her tablet like a shield, acutely aware of his presence filling the small space. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her profile. This was the deal of a lifetime, the one that would save her family's legacy media company from a hostile takeover. The only catch: Alexander Thorne didn't just want the company. He'd made it abundantly clear he wanted her.
The elevator doors slid open directly into his office, a vast, minimalist space of glass, steel, and breathtaking views. He walked to his desk, not sitting, but leaning against it, crossing his arms.
"Let's dispense with the corporate facade, Lena. We both know why you're really here."
She stood her ground in the center of the room. "The merger terms. My father's company retains editorial independence, and the branding stays intact."
"Agreed," he said, so easily it was suspicious. "But we're not here to rehash the paperwork my lawyers have already drawn up. We're here to establish the rules."
"Rules?"
"For us." He pushed off the desk and took a slow step toward her. "You walked into my world at the gala. You looked me in the eye and challenged me on my own acquisition strategy in front of half the city's elite. You didn't flirt. You fought. And now you need my money and my influence. That creates a… unique dynamic."
Lena's mouth went dry. "This is a business arrangement."
"Is it?" Another step. "Then why did you kiss me back in the garden that night?"
The memory was a physical shock—the cool night air, the scent of jasmine, the devastating pressure of his mouth on hers, a moment of pure, uncalculated surrender she'd been trying to forget ever since. She'd told herself it was strategy, a way to secure his interest. She was lying.
"A moment of poor judgment," she forced out.
"Your only poor judgment was running afterward." He was close now, close enough for her to see the flecks of grey in his blue irises, the faint scar along his jaw she'd never noticed before. "But we can move past that. Here are my rules. Rule one: complete honesty. In this room, between us, there are no PR spins, no boardroom evasions. You tell me what you want, what you fear, what you're really thinking."
"And you'll grant me the same courtesy?" she challenged.
A shadow passed behind his eyes, there and gone so fast she might have imagined it. "To the extent I can. Rule two: no games with other people. If we are seen together—and we will be—it is exclusive. For the duration of our… understanding. It maintains a clean public narrative."
"A narrative for who?" Lena asked, her investigative reporter instincts prickling. "Your reputation as a playboy could survive a dozen women on your arm. Why the sudden need for a 'clean narrative'?"
He didn't flinch, but his gaze intensified, as if she'd just passed a test. "Let's just say I have my own reasons. Which leads to rule three: you trust my protection."
"Protection from what?"
Before he could answer, a sharp knock sounded at the office door. Alexander's head snapped toward it, his body tensing almost imperceptibly. "Enter."
His head of security, a grim-faced man named Silas, stepped in. "Sir, a small issue. The car scheduled for your lunch has been flagged. I've switched it out. The team is sweeping the new vehicle now."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "Understood. Keep me updated."
Silas nodded, his eyes flicking to Lena with an unreadable expression before he left.
The air in the room had changed, growing colder, charged with a new kind of tension. The carefully constructed world of high-stakes finance and flirtation had just cracked, revealing something darker beneath.
"What was that about?" Lena asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alexander turned back to her, the playful arrogance momentarily replaced by a stark seriousness. "A precaution. My world isn't just board meetings and galas, Lena. There are competitors who don't play by the same rules. Disgruntled former associates. My high profile makes me a target. And now, by association, it makes you one."
The reality of his words sank in, a cold dread seeping through her. This was the suspense that lurked behind the romance columns, the whispered rumors about Thorne Industries' ruthless rise. She'd thought they were just stories.
"You didn't mention that in the prospectus," she said, trying for levity and failing.
"It's the most important rule," he said, closing the final distance between them. He didn't touch her, but his presence was overwhelming. "You let me protect you. That means listening to Silas, it means not deviating from agreed plans, and it means telling me if anything—anything—feels off. Do you understand?"
She saw it then, beneath the steel of his command: a flicker of genuine concern. It was more disarming than any of his charm offensives. This wasn't just about control; it was about keeping her safe. But from what, exactly?
"I understand," she said, and for the first time, it felt like more than a negotiation.
"Good." The intensity in his eyes softened, but only a fraction. "Then we have an agreement. The merger goes through. You play your part as my committed partner in public. And in private…" He