Chapter 26
SCARLETT
The elevator doors whispered open to the top floor, and I stepped out like I belonged there. Like I hadn’t spent the weekend with my legs wrapped around the neck of the man who now owned this building.
Professional. Confident. Pretending that inside me, my stomach wasn’t a bundle of nerves.
Around me, the floor hummed with activity: phones ringing, papers shuffling, the click of expensive shoes on floors.
Lockwood Holdings employees had descended like a well-dressed plague, already settling into their new kingdom.
But all that white noise faded as my eyes locked on to the mahogany door at the far end of the hall.
My heels struck a steady rhythm against the floor as I approached.
Click. Click. Click. The sound of inevitability.
With each step, I pushed down the urge to smooth my pencil skirt, check my lipstick, or run nervous fingers through my carefully styled hair.
Not because I cared how I looked. (Liar, my brain whispered.) No, this was about walking into that office radiating the kind of confidence that came with knowing your worth.
Even if, right now, I felt about as substantial as a dust speck in a hurricane.
“Excuse me, can I help you?”
I nearly stumbled as a petite brunette materialized in front of me, all pristine suit and arctic-blue eyes.
“Mr. Lockwood requested to see me.”
She arched one perfect eyebrow. “You’re Scarlett West?”
So, he looked up my last name. Something twisted in my stomach.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Take a seat.” She gestured to a row of leather chairs.
“I’ll stand. Thank you.” My voice came out cool, measured.
Fake it till you make it, Scarlett. He’s just the boss, I told my thundering heart. So what?
So what? my anxiety screamed.
In the five minutes I’d spent frantically Googling him before Dakota had come to my office, I’d discovered that Jace Lockwood wasn’t just powerful; he was basically a god in the corporate world.
The man owned a multibillion-dollar empire and had acquired more businesses than I had treats for Buttercup (and trust me, that was saying something).
According to every gossip blog and business magazine out there, he was one of the most-sought-after bachelors in the world.
Though weirdly, I couldn’t find a single reporter who’d ever uncovered an actual relationship. Not one.
So, either the guy didn’t do relationships at all or he was so good at keeping them quiet that everyone involved disappeared into a black hole of silence.
And now here I was, the girl who’d spent the weekend discovering exactly what that mouth could do, about to walk into his office.
“He’ll see you now,” the brunette said, swinging the mahogany door open.
Okay … looks like my throat has decided to go all dry.
Chin up. Shoulders back. I strode into the corner office—a space that could have swallowed my entire apartment whole. The massive glass conference table caught my eye, and suddenly, my brain decided to replay the image of Jace sprawled across a similar table, blindfolded, his muscles tensing as I—
Not. Helping.
I forced my gaze toward the desk at the far end of the room, just as Jace rose from his chair.
The moment our eyes met, everything slowed to a crawl.
Like someone had pressed slow motion on the universe, leaving only us, the air between us, and the dust dancing in the sunlight that stretched through the wall of windows.
His emerald eyes sparkled, just a fraction, but enough to tell me he felt it, too, this crackling awareness that made it hard to breathe.
The sound of his steps echoed in the silence as he rounded the desk, and holy mother of God.
Earlier, shock had short-circuited my ability to fully process what stood before me.
Now? Now I could appreciate how that Italian suit hugged every hard plane of his body, how it barely contained those tattooed muscles I’d spent hours tracing with my tongue.
And underneath all that expensive fabric?
I knew exactly what kind of black boxer briefs—
Focus, Scarlett. Professional.
He settled against the edge of his desk, all coiled power and casual dominance. Much like when he’d leaned against that other table, and I’d taken him into the back of my throat and—
“Scarlett.” My name rolled off his tongue like dark honey, hitting me low in the belly. “Thank you for coming.” He gestured to one of the leather chairs. “Please. Take a seat.”
“I’ll stand.” I moved forward, my heels silent as I stepped onto the plush carpet of what was probably a ridiculously expensive rug.
Those green eyes—the same ones that had darkened, watching me come apart beneath him—danced with something that looked dangerously close to amusement. His full lips, the ones that had mapped every inch of my skin, curved into the ghost of a smile.
“Suit yourself.” Jace’s gaze flicked past me to the door, presumably confirming it was shut, before settling back on me with an intensity that made my skin come alive with unwanted desire.
Don’t fidget. Don’t wring your hands. Don’t show weakness.
But standing here, watching him watch me, I realized there was something far more dangerous than showing weakness: remembering exactly how powerful that body could be when it wasn’t wrapped in designer suits.
Interesting. I thought I’d despise him, but apparently, my body hadn’t gotten the memo.
My vagina was staging a full rebellion, getting all hot and bothered, watching him lean against that desk, those long fingers drumming against the underside, ankles crossed with casual dominance.
And that suit? That suit should be illegal in at least forty-eight states.
I did not like powerful men. So, why the hell was this turning me on?
Because beneath that suit is a labyrinth of tattoos and the man who worked your body like he had a PhD in pleasure. And whether you want to admit it or not, you can’t just choose to make these unwanted feelings disappear.
Shut up, rational brain.
“I wasn’t aware you worked for this company when I met you,” he said, voice careful.
“Ditto.” I matched his tone. Professional. Distant. Like I couldn’t still feel the ghost of his hands on my skin.
He pushed off the desk and took two steps closer. I resisted the instinct to step back, to make myself smaller. Instead, I held my ground, but my traitorous gaze betrayed me by noticing how his shoulder muscles strained against that jacket as he slipped his hands into his pockets.
“I’m afraid this company has strict policies against us dating,” Jace said.
“Good thing we’re not dating then.” I kept my voice light but firm. Not too assertive, but confident enough to make it clear that I wouldn’t be intimidated.
“I’ll have my lawyer draft an NDA. You’ll sign it by the end of the day.”
Anger shot through me, followed by what felt close to betrayal. Which was unfair. Why would I have expected anything other than him trying to cover his ass? We’d had sex. Great sex. Mind-blowing sex. But nothing more. Right?
Still, it didn’t just hurt; it was insulting. He already held all the cards. Owned the whole damn deck really. He didn’t need a legally binding agreement on top of it. One he commanded I sign rather than ask me if I would be willing to.
“Will I?”
“You will.” There was a finality to his tone, so strong that it almost came off like a threat. It was jarring, the change to his personality. The guy from this weekend had smiled and let me take control. Held me, slept next to me.
“This is who you really are,” I said carefully, keeping the anger out of my tone. “Controlling. Domineering.”
“I own a multibillion-dollar company. I didn’t get there by asking pretty please, Scarlett.”
Heart, stand down. You have no right to be hurt.
“And the guy from this weekend. Who was he?”
Jace took several more steps toward me, until our faces were only separated by three feet.
His eyes roamed over the planes of my skin, down my jaw as he tilted his head with that casual confidence that did something to my knees.
Being in his presence, I realized, was going to be far more complicated than I wanted.
Because my body was still not getting the message that this guy was now forbidden.
That, if anything, he was my enemy. Someone that represented a threat to my career.
And everything I’d fought against my whole life.
“The man from this weekend was a side of me I’ve never shown to anyone else.”
What the … I had no idea how to react to that, but a plethora of options started firing off votes.
My heart had turned into a junior-high-school cheerleader, drawing hearts in my notebook and squealing.
My soul was reaching for him, saying, See?
Those feelings that you’re sensing? They are real!
My body was casting a unanimous YES while blushing furiously.
And the way he was looking at me suggested he didn’t want this to end either.
But, thank God, my professional side muscled through the chaos and took the reins.
“I see. Well, I’ll read over the NDA and ensure it protects both parties,” I said.
Those beautiful lips curled on one side. “Both parties?”
“I don’t sign any legally binding agreement without reading it first. This weekend poses as much of a problem for me, if not more, than it does for you. So, yes, ensure your lawyer has drafted a proper NDA that protects me as well.”
He stepped closer still.
“And what protections would you like to see in that document, Scarlett?” The way he said it was seductive.