Playing by His Rules
Celeste strutted through the office doors, confidence dripping from every step. Today's outfit was a deliberate choice—a sleek, form-fitting black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Sophisticated. Elegant. Infuriatingly irresistible.
If Adrian wanted her to change how she dressed, he should have been more specific.
Heads turned the moment she walked in.
Men subtly stole glances, some pretending to check their files while sneaking looks at her legs. Even the women whispered among themselves, eyes flickering between her and Adrian's office.
Good.
If she had to endure working under her irritating, controlling, infuriatingly gorgeous husband, she might as well have some fun.
She reached his office and knocked.
"Come in," came Adrian's cold, clipped voice.
Celeste stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
Adrian was seated at his desk, flipping through some documents with his usual air of control. His sharp suit was immaculate, his expression unreadable—except for the flicker of something dangerous in his gray eyes when they lifted to meet hers.
His gaze swept over her. Just for a second.
Then, he exhaled sharply. "Are you trying to be difficult?"
Celeste smiled innocently. "I don't know what you mean, Mr. Sinclair."
His eyes darkened at the way she emphasized his name. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk. "That dress."
She tilted her head. "What about it?"
"You know what I mean." His voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down her spine.
She feigned confusion. "Oh, you mean when you told me to change my wardrobe? Well, I did. Maybe next time, be more specific."
Adrian's jaw clenched.
Without a word, he stood up, shrugged off his expensive black coat, and strode toward her.
Before she could react, he draped the coat over her shoulders, his scent wrapping around her like a second skin.
Celeste's breath hitched.
What—
Adrian's hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary, adjusting the coat so it swallowed her figure. His voice was low, possessive, teasing.
"I don't like people seeing what's supposed to be mine."
Celeste's face heated. "Excuse me?"
His lips twitched, amusement flickering in his gaze.
"If you want to wear something sexy, you can do it at home. When we're alone."
Her mouth fell open.
Adrian—stoic, arrogant Adrian—had just said that.
"You—!" she started, but no words came out.
Adrian stepped back, completely unbothered. "Get back to work, Miss Sinclair."
Celeste stared at him, then at the coat draped over her like a brand.
For a fleeting second, she considered keeping it. The warmth of it. The scent of him.
Then she realized she absolutely shouldn't.
Because that would mean he wins.
And Adrian Sinclair doesn't get to control her.
She shrugged off his coat and shoved it back into his arms. "You're not the boss of me, so you don't have the right to meddle with my clothing."
Adrian caught the coat effortlessly, one brow arching in amusement. "Actually, I am."
Celeste scoffed. "In your dreams."
She turned on her heel, ready to walk out—
But the next thing she knew, the ground vanished beneath her feet.
"Adrian—!" she shrieked as he hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Put me down!"
Adrian ignored her, striding back into his office and—with a single press of a button—the door locked behind them.
Celeste stilled.
Shit.
She lifted her head just in time to see the blinds slide shut, sealing them in private.
Adrian gently lowered her onto the plush leather couch, caging her between his arms. His face was far too close, his gaze far too dark.
His voice was deep, teasing, dangerous.
"If my wife wants to feel sexy, I can make her feel even sexier. Besides..." His thumb brushed over the inside of her wrist. "We've never done 'it' in my office before."
Celeste's heart slammed against her ribs.
Her brain short-circuited.
WHAT.
"Adrian," she warned, pressing her hands against his chest to push him away, but he didn't budge.
He tilted his head, smirking. "We're alone now, Celeste."
Her fingers curled into his shirt.
Damn it, why did he have to smell so good?
"Let me go," she hissed.
He grinned. "Or what? You'll scream?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I swear, I will—"
Adrian's smirk widened. "Go ahead. My office is soundproof."
Celeste froze.
Oh, hell no.
"And even if someone does hear you," Adrian leaned down, his lips a breath away from her ear, "they'll just think we're doing... something else."
Her entire body ignited.
This man was insane.
"Asshole," she growled.
He chuckled, clearly enjoying this.
Finally, he pulled back, brushing a strand of hair from her face before sitting back on his desk.
"Since you refused my coat," he mused, smirking, "you can just work here instead."
Celeste blinked. "What?"
Adrian picked up his phone.
"Logistics?" His voice was casual, arrogant, utterly smug. "Move Mrs. Sinclair's desk inside my office. Starting tomorrow."
Celeste gaped.
"You—! Are you serious?! You can't just—"
Adrian hung up, completely unbothered.
"Problem, sweetheart?"
Celeste opened her mouth to curse him, but he only grinned, completely unaffected.
"You should know by now," he murmured, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
"I'm selfish when it comes to you."