Papercuts: Rune & Dorian (Cruel bloodline #2)

Chapter 1

The office was built like a fortress, with steel, glass, and calculated elegance.

Perched atop a three-storey Georgian building overlooking the Thames, it felt less like a workspace and more like a vantage point.

Cold light spilt through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on the dark lines of the walnut furniture and the razor profile of the man behind the desk.

It sat high on a cliff, the sea spread out endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Cold light poured in, catching on the dark lines of the furniture and the sharper edges of the man behind the desk.

Dorian didn't look up as Jacob shifted nervously in the chair opposite him. Dorian had never invited him to sit before. Change never represented anything good when it came to Dorian.

"You're in love with her," Dorian said in a bloodless voice. He might have been discussing the weather, for all the emotion in that single statement.

Jacob's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I... never meant-"

"You were supposed to watch her. Not write poetry in your head while you gazed upon her doe eyes like a dying swan,” Dorian continued as if he had not spoken.

Jacob flushed, and Dorian finally lifted his gaze.

Dorian had the kind of face that had no business being beautiful, but was, in a feral, sun-bitten way.

Sharp cheekbones, sun-kissed skin, and a mouth that rarely smiled, though it seemed to be made for sin.

His blond hair was a dishevelled crown of salt and wind, making him look more like a reckless surfer than a man who could ruin lives before breakfast. A deceptive sprinkling of freckles dusted the bridge of his nose and cheeks.

But there was nothing carefree about Dorian.

He was a maverick – ruthless, brilliant, and rich enough to retire three times over. But he didn't. He liked problems. He liked puzzles. Especially ones only he could solve.

"Aria is not for you," Dorian continued, his tone emotionless. "She's not for anyone. She's engaged to Crispin. She's also my friend now."

Jacob looked up and dared. "She deserves better."

Dorian arched a brow. "And that's you? The accountant with misplaced fantasies? A white picket fence and a semi-detached house in the fringes of London, is it?"

Jacob's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

"Get rid of the feelings," Dorian said, steel threading into his voice. "Or I'll get rid of you."

Jacob jerked like he had been slapped. He rose silently, the embarrassment painting his cheeks and neck a dusky red.

Dorian didn't watch him leave. He was already bored.

The man was done. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, staring at the sea.

One problem down. Ten more waiting. Zurich, Warsaw, Singapore.

He had his fingers in every pie worth tasting, and a few that would burn most men down to the bone.

A few that were not strictly legal. He always liked a challenge.

A knock at the door broke the quiet.

"Enter."

She walked in like a whisper – quiet, smooth, and perfectly composed.

Rune.

She was striking. Not beautiful in the traditional sense, but compelling.

Her features were strong and Slavic. Dark brows, sharp cheekbones, and a generous mouth that always looked on the verge of amusement.

Today, her dark hair was pulled back loosely, a few strands brushing her cheeks.

Freckles dotted her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

She wore a soft charcoal blouse tucked into tailored trousers, and her blue-grey eyes avoided his, fixed instead on the file in her hands.

"Zurich," she said, placing it on the desk.

Dorian took it, though he didn't glance at the content.

Rune had been a gamble once. Straight out of university, brilliant and broke.

She walked into his office with trembling hands and impressive credentials, but no experience.

He had hired her on instinct and trained her personally. Professionally. Intimately.

She had signed the NDA. Her eyes had widened at the conditions, and he had watched her swallow before controlling her nervousness and scribbling her signature on the dotted line.

He'd taken her virginity the week after.

A week of the cat and mouse game that he had enjoyed more than the multimillion-dollar deal he had closed a week prior.

It had been a novelty, one he had no interest in repeating.

Rune, for all her calm exterior, had been exquisite.

Obedient. Efficient. Quick on her feet and off them, he mused.

Even quicker on her knees. He had moulded her into the perfect tool, both in and out of bed.

And for years after, she had remained exactly what he needed – capable, emotionless, and loyal. If he had sensed a time or two that she was desperate for more, he had ignored it. But today, something was different. And like the born predator he was, he could smell the blood in the water.

A flicker in her eyes. A hesitation too long. He watched her with the unblinking eyes of a shark. "You're not focused. Has Helga been taken care of?"

She blinked as if startled from her thoughts and held his pitch-black eyes. "I'm fine. And yes."

"You were fine yesterday," he said quietly. "But now, there's a problem."

Rune said nothing. She knew she couldn't win.

Dorian flipped open the Zurich file, finally releasing her from the voodoo of his gaze, and started scanning numbers and projections with precise efficiency.

Rune stood still and silent, waiting as he had trained her.

But today, she didn't quite disappear into the corner like she usually did.

It was like someone had dropped a stone in a still lake and they were feeling the ripples still.

He noticed. His gaze lifted slowly and deliberately.

Dark eyes, so dark they'd earned the nickname among competitors and colleagues alike – demon eyes. They gave nothing away. Unreadable. Depthless. An abyss behind the sunlit mess of blond curls and deceptively casual charm.

The contrast made people underestimate him. But only once.

"Come here," he said, still not looking up.

She obeyed. She always did without question. But he didn't miss the slight hesitation.

Rune stepped forward, her beautiful face carefully neutral but there was a strange tension in her shoulders.

She wore calm like armour, but he could sense the hairline fracture beneath it now.

The faintest pull around the corner of her mouth.

A strain she couldn't quite hide. He could read her tells as if he had written a book on the subject.

"Closer", he purred.

He waited until she was a hair’s breadth away. Then he closed the file like he had all the time in the world and looked up, inky eyes boring into hers.

Dorian stood up and took a step back.

"Face the table," he said in a deceptively soft voice.

She seemed to hesitate before obediently turning to face the table, her hands shaking on the sides.

"Hands on the table. Bend forward," he whispered into her neck.

She obeyed as she had been taught.

She listened to the sound of him unzipping, followed by the sound of a wrapper being ripped. She closed her eyes and bit her lip hard enough to bleed. Then she felt him pull her skirt up and, in a casual move, pull her panties down. His shoes tapped the inside of her pumps, widening her stance.

Then, she felt his warmth through the layers of cloth against her back and the press of the flared crown of his cock as he guided himself to her opening, forcing her on tiptoes.

He found it unerringly, and one hand came around to cup her belly as he pushed forward, while the other braced against the table.

She was dry, and it hurt. But he took it slow, moving in and out until she began to moisten around him, and slowly it became bearable.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, he sped up, pumping in and out.

Until he pushed all the way in, she felt him pulse inside as he came.

Within seconds, he pulled out, and she heard the snick of the condom being tied off and dropped in the bin.

He didn't make a single sound throughout the whole encounter.

"Cover yourself," he said in the same emotionless voice he used when talking to the accountant.

She hurried to pull her panties up while pushing her skirt down. As she turned, he caught her shoulder and turned her to face him. A well-shaped index finger caught the tear that slid down her cheek. He brought it to his lips like she had produced a delicacy.

"You're slipping, Rune," he said using her given name, something he never did during workhours.

She said nothing, still clawing her way through the brain fog.

"I thought I had trained you to be emotionless. Flawless. Now I sense... something’s amiss."

"I haven't missed a deadline," she said as she tried to pull her mask back on. But she wasn't fast enough.

Dorian sat down again, his aura coiling around her like smoke.

"I don't care about deadlines," he murmured, watching her like she was a butterfly pinned to a corkboard. "But I do care about control."

Rune held his gaze, refusing to look away.

This was new. There was a time when she would've looked down, compliant, obedient, and detached.

But now, she met his stare. Her eyes weren't challenging.

But there was something behind them. Something he did not understand.

He did not like wildcards. The unknown equated to danger in his line of work.

"You were convenient," he said, cruelty in a velvet glove. "On call in every way that I needed. That's why I kept you. You did not bring your emotions to work."

"I still don't."

"No," he said, studying her. "But you're starting to crack. I know the signs."

Silence.

Rune's breathing became slightly uneven. He noticed.

"You know how this ends, don't you?"

There was a long pause before she whispered, "Yes."

"Then why are you still standing here?"

She didn't answer immediately. After a moment, she said, "Because I'm good at what I do. And you hate training replacements."

Dorian let out a dry laugh, but there was no warmth in it. He stood up and moved closer, until there was almost nothing between them.

"Clever girl," he said. "But not clever enough to keep your heart buried."

She held still. She had always been perfect at that. But something flickered again in her eyes. Gone in a flash, but he caught it. Resentment. Barely there, but unmistakable.

He stepped back.

"Emotion doesn't belong here. You knew that the moment you signed."

She nodded, eyes neutral now, but something churned underneath.

"It's time," he said.

Rune inhaled, almost inaudibly. "Understood."

Rune nodded, turned on her heel, and walked out without hesitation. Only when the door shut did Dorian exhale slowly. She would be gone in a couple of weeks. He'd already drafted the severance. But something about the way she'd looked at him stayed longer than it should have.

Just like Aria's name had lingered in Jacob's mouth.

Feelings. Always the rot beneath the surface. And he hated rot