FOUR
P oison snuck through the office the following morning with the grace of a ghost, trying to stay invisible among the cubicles and offices. After last night, she was sure her boss would fire her if he saw her. The other alternative would be bumping into Melissa and having a repeat of last night’s incident.
To save face, Melissa and her PR team had sent out a press release claiming last night had been a live-action demonstration of the video game. To be honest, Poison was quite impressed that Melissa had come up with it so quickly—especially after so many of the guests recorded the incident. The fight went viral overnight on social media.
However, the day was going to play out—Poison didn’t have the energy for any of the scenarios her mind could devise. She made it to her office unnoticed and collapsed in her chair, just wanting the day to be over.
Her hand had barely left the send button on her first email when the phone on her desk erupted into a jarring ring. Swearing under her breath, she saw the internal line light flashing. Fuck.
She plucked the handset to her ear, irritation flaring. “What?” she snapped.
“Uhm…” Her heart sank. She knew that quivering mouse voice. “Miss Sloan?” the voice stammered.
“Yeah?” she replied, a sigh escaping her lips.
“Miss Sloan, Mister Topaz would like to see you in his office,” the voice continued, trembling slightly.
She didn’t bother to answer and placed the handset back, rising from her chair with a sigh. She deliberately took her time walking to the elevators, savoring the fleeting moments of calm before the inevitable storm. As she pushed the upward arrow, the elevator doors opened with a hiss, and cold air rushed over her face, sending a shiver down her spine.
The ride to the top floor felt like an eternity. The moment the doors opened again, every head turned in her direction. Their expressions were a collective whisper: ‘ You’re so fired. ’
She didn’t wait for Topaz’s secretary to open the doors or announce her arrival. She swung open the double doors, ready to barge in and get it over with. But she stopped dead in her tracks.
“There she is!” Topaz beamed when he saw her, his tone dripping with false cheer. It was the exact tone he had used last night to try and impress the investors. But it wasn’t her boss’s greeting that made her halt.
It was the man in the suit standing in front of him.
On the opposite end of Topaz’s desk stood Scorpion. The tailored black suit, stretching over every muscled part of his body, screamed of wealth and authority. He looked good last night, but this morning he looked downright fuckable.
His black hair was combed back, and if she hadn’t met him last night, she would have thought him to be another spoiled, trust-fund fuckboy.
His eyes roamed over her body, and she just stood there, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Her heart pounded, a combination of anger and something more unsettling coursing through her veins. What the fuck was he doing here? The question burned on her tongue, but she couldn’t force the words out. Instead, she clenched her fists at her sides, fighting the urge to lash out.
Topaz’s voice cut through the tension, but she barely heard him. All she could focus on was Scorpion’s intense gaze, dissecting her, seeing too much. She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. If ever. She was prepared for a confrontation with her boss, but not for this. Not for him.
Her mind raced, trying to piece together the implications of his presence. Had he come to gloat? To challenge her? Or was there something else, something she couldn’t yet see? The uncertainty twisted her guts, and she hated it.
Standing there with a mouth full of teeth, she struggled to regain her composure. She straightened her spine, refusing to let him see the turmoil within her. Keep it together , she told herself, forcing a cold, defiant mask onto her face. She wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he had rattled her.
“Mister Thompson,” her boss grinned, rushing around his desk, nearly bumping a crystal statue in his haste. “Allow me to introduce our head of the coding department, Miss Sloan.”
Without hesitation, Scorpion stepped forward with an outstretched hand. His smile knocked the wind from her lungs like a right hook to the gut, and she stupidly took his offered hand and shook it.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Sloan,” he whispered, bent down, and kissed the top of her hand, never taking his eyes off hers.
Electricity shot through her arm as if she had touched the fence of an electrified fighting cage. The shock made her snatch her hand from his grip and drop it to her side.
“She’s the one I told you about,” Topaz went on, oblivious to the tension in the room. “She’ll be able to bring your ideas to life.”
“Do you mind if I pick her brain for a moment?” Scorpion asked Topaz without looking away from her.
“Sure, go right ahead.”
Electricity turned to fire as rage swelled in her chest. Who the fuck did they think they were? Discussing her like a piece of property to be handed over. As if she wasn’t in the room with them.
“If you will excuse me,” she spat through a clenched jaw. “I have a pitch meeting to get to.”
“Oh, yes. Yes. Of course.” Her boss looked at the clock on the wall. “Apologies, Mister Thompson. We’ll, unfortunately, have to reschedule.”
“No worries.” Scorpion shrugged. “I’m the one who showed up without an appointment. You go ahead to your meeting. I’ll show myself out.”
Without another word, he walked out of the office. But not without winking at Poison as he passed by.
She wanted to follow him. To demand an explanation for why he couldn’t get away fast enough from her last night but had the audacity to show up at her work. She took a step but stopped when her boss called her back.
“Yes, sir?” She turned and gave him one of her favorite chilling stares.
“After last night, I thought you’d have a bit more respect for our clients,” he fumed, his neck turning an amusing shade of purple.
“After last night,” she fired back, her eyes a cold glare. “I thought you’d realize what I’m capable of when provoked.”
Topaz paled, which caused a smile to crawl over her lips. Oh, he realized, alright. And with that, she stomped out of his office, trying to catch up with Scorpion. She found him waiting for the elevator down the hall.
“What’s your deal?” she demanded, storming up to him, her eyes flashing with anger.
He feigned innocence and placed a palm on his heart. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Little Viper,” he said innocently, his tone dripping with mock sweetness.
“Yes, you do,” she hissed, her frustration bubbling over. “And do not call me that.”
“What?” He stepped closer, his voice lowering to a seductive whisper. “Little Viper?” Another step. “I think it very fitting. Don’t you agree?”
She centered herself, refusing to let him see the effect his voice, his whole damn presence had on her. Her pulse quickened, but she masked it with a steely gaze.
“Snakes can miss their target. Poison gets them every time. Now stop avoiding my question.”
“Sorry,” he said, his eyes glistening with amusement. “You’re just so…” He sucked in an audible breath through his teeth. “Distracting.”
“And you’re just full of it,” she shot back, irritation
sharpening her words.
“Don’t give me an opening like that,” he warned, mischief dancing in his eyes.
“If you make a dirty joke about something being full, I swear I’ll kick that smile off your pretty, smug face.”
“You think I’m pretty?” He batted his eyelashes at her, and despite herself, she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“Obviously, you think you are, so what does my opinion matter?” she scoffed.
“Oh, it matters.” His eyes darkened, and she had to look away, her mind straying dangerously close to the gutter.
“Back to my question.” She needed to remember how to breathe. “Last night, you couldn’t get away from me fast enough, and today, you show up at my work. Why the hot and cold treatment?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but a shrill voice behind her cut him off.
“Ah, look. The two freaks together.”
Poison turned and found Melissa behind her with arms crossed, tapping the toe of her Prada heels.
“Fuck off, Melissa,” she spat, but before she could say another word, Scorpion stepped around her, positioning himself between them. His broad shoulders and imposing presence acted as a shield, and she felt an unexpected sense of comfort in his protective stance.
“You can be glad,” he hissed, bending down to Melissa’s eye level, his voice a menacing whisper. “You can be so glad I would never raise my hand against a woman.”
“But I will,” Poison added, stepping around him. Her fists clenched, the threat clear in her eyes.
Melissa’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water, her bravado crumbling. The elevator dinged behind them, and she took it as her cue to escape, scurrying away with her tail between her legs. Smiling, Poison turned to Scorpion.
“I’ll see you around?” she said with a teasing lilt.
“Definitely,” he promised, stepping into the elevator. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she got lost in the dark abyss of his.
She waited until the doors shut before turning and walking to the conference room. Her heart still pounded from the encounter, but a part of her felt exhilarated.
It was the same stupid, mundane pitch after the next. After an hour of listening to the Normals trying to figure out the next project, Poison fidgeted in her chair. She was bored out of her skull and doodled all over her notepad.
“Sloan?”
“Yeah?” Her head snapped up at the sound of someone calling her.
“Do you have any more ideas like Shadow Strike ?” her boss asked from the head of the long table. “We could use another hit like that.”
She still remembered the day she had made the pitch. It was a meeting just as dull as this one. She had just wanted it to end. She mentioned streetfighters, not thinking that they would go for it. Turns out she could be wrong from time to time.
She leaned forward, her gaze steady, but a smile curled her lips. “Actually, I do have an idea.”
The room stilled, all eyes turning to her. She allowed a smile to crawl its way onto her lips. “Imagine a VR game where the player is a doctor who has created a revolutionary machine that can delve into people’s minds. This machine allows you to enter the minds of people, exploring their deepest fears and memories.”
Intrigue sparked in their eyes, so she pressed on, her voice steady. “But here’s the twist. The doctor tests it on mental patients in case it causes the mind to go insane. But the minds you enter are horrendous, nightmarish landscapes shaped by the patients’ traumas and psychoses. And if the doctor dies in the patient’s mind, the doctor actually dies, and it’s game over for the player.”
A few gasps echoed around the room. She could see the unease settling in and continued, lowering her tone for dramatics. “My AI technology can adapt to the player’s choices, creating a unique, personalized horror experience each time. The stakes are real, the terror is palpable, and the player’s decisions will determine their fate.”
She paused, letting her words sink in, outright smiling. “This game isn’t just about survival. It’s about confronting the darkest parts of the human psyche and finding a way out without losing your mind. It’s raw, it’s intense, and it’s unlike anything on the market.”
Silence enveloped the room. She could feel her words causing fear in the room. Finally, someone whispered, “She’s scary.”
Topaz cleared his throat, breaking the tension.
“Anyone else have an idea?”
She leaned back in her chair, masking her satisfaction with a cold, indifferent expression. It was the reaction she had hoped for. They will never ask her for an idea again. She could see the fear and awe in their eyes, the unease her idea had sown. She watched as others pitched their ideas, the safe, predictable concepts that kept the company afloat.
She glanced at Topaz, catching his eye. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something—was it interest, or just lingering unease?
Her phone’s screen lit up with a message, and she forgot all about Topaz.
Need a smoke?
She didn’t recognize the number, but for some reason, she knew it was Scorpion. Where the fuck did he
get her number? It shouldn’t surprise her. She’s sure he had his ways, just like she had hers. But still, that was quick. Without hesitation, she typed her response.
When? Now?
His response was immediate.
Come outside
She shook her head, not caring who saw her smile. She was only faintly aware that her boss went on to pester someone else for an idea, as he himself had the creativity of a wooden spoon.
Meeting is still on
When she didn’t receive a response, she thought he got the message and locked her phone. She returned to her doodling while fighting the urge to fall asleep.
Another ten minutes had passed, and the content writers were fighting about a possible storyline for a lame simulation game they had decided on. Her mind drifted, eyes glazing over as she let their bickering fade into a dull hum. She tapped her pen against the table, her thoughts miles away.
A knock on the door finally broke the argument and drew her from her daydreaming. She straightened, curiosity piqued. A man with long blond hair tied in a bun poked his head into the conference room.
“Excuse me, sir,” he smiled at Topaz. “I’ve got a delivery for a Miss Sloan?”
Topaz glared at her as if the interruption was her doing. She met his gaze with a cold stare, unflinching.
“Have the secretary sign for it,” Topaz grunted, clearly annoyed.
“Unfortunately, it is a sensitive situation, sir,” the delivery man replied, his tone respectful but firm. “I need to hand it to her personally.”
She didn’t wait for a second invitation. Relief flooded her, a welcome escape from the drudgery of the meeting. She grabbed her belongings with a quick, fluid motion and rushed to the door.
As she stepped into the hallway, she couldn’t help but wonder what the delivery was. But alarms immediately went off when she got a better look at the messenger. They usually didn’t have delivery men in gray t-shirts and faded black jeans wearing combat boots. Especially not ones that were built like a bulldozer.
She took a step back and assessed the situation. Her fight-or-flight instincts told her this was an ambush and she had to be ready for a fight. So she did just that. As casually as possible, she placed one foot in front of the other, distributing her weight evenly.
“Who the fuck are you?” she demanded.
“He’s with me,” Scorpion answered from behind her, and she let out a calming breath.
She turned to see another man flanking him, and the blond one moved around her to fall behind Scorpion to his right.
“And who are they?” she asked with raised brows, enjoying the muscle popping in the blond one’s jaw as she spoke about them and not to them.
“Allow me to introduce you to Gunnar,” Scorpion put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to his right. Gunnar tipped his chin about half an inch. It was the only acknowledgment she received from the previous smiling face that got her out of the meeting.
“And Dennis,” he turned his head to the left.
The latter stretched out a hand with a broad smile, which she shook. His large, chestnut hand swallowed hers in comparison. But they were soft. She knew Gunnar was a fighter by the sheer size of his arms—not to mention the large scar on his left eye. Dennis’s soft hands made it clear that he didn’t see the inside of a ring.
“Guys, this is Poison.” The way Scorpion said her name, as if it were a caress, sent a shiver crawling down her spine, and she forgot how to breathe.
“Nice to meet you,” Dennis beamed, his smile warm and genuine.
“Likewise,” she replied, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her stomach.
“So,” Scorpion’s smile was hypnotic, his eyes locked onto hers. “You ready to leave?”
Excitement bubbled in her chest, completely overshadowing the tension that had been there moments before. “Where to?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.
“I take it you rode your bike to work?” His gaze flickered with a knowing glint.
“I did,” she confirmed, her heart racing. Fuck, this man had no idea how much he affected her.
“Great!” he beamed, his enthusiasm infectious. “Let’s get out of here!”
As they turned to leave, she felt exhilaration and curiosity course through her veins. Unable to suppress the smile spreading across her lips, she followed Scorpion.
He started to the elevator, flanked by Dennis and Gunnar, falling into step. She trailed behind; her initial excitement dimmed. Did he have to bring Tweedledee and Tweedledum with him?
She ended up in the right corner of the elevator. Even in the constricted space, the two men flanked Scorpion. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised, given his reputation and status as a crew leader, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t irritate the living shit out of her.
Scorpion leaned past her to press the lobby button, leaning so close that his scent overwhelmed her senses, igniting a shiver of excitement that coursed through her, leaving a growing warmth between her legs. Fuck. She was in trouble. She never knew the musky scent of leather and cedar could have that effect on her. It didn’t help that he stared into her eyes as he leaned, his lips a mere two inches from hers.
The confinement of the elevator pressed in on her, and she fought the urge to fan her face with her hand. She swallowed hard, and the movement drew his eyes to her lips. His eyes darkened. Shit. Trouble indeed.
She only dared to move, to breathe, to think once he was standing half behind her again. She stared vacantly at the buttons as the light moved to indicate the floor they were on.
Reaching out a hand, she pushed level three, and the elevator came to a halt. The doors weren’t even open all the way when she slipped out and turned to the three men.
“I’m just going to fetch my things from my office. I’ll be right back,” she mumbled, hating her faltering voice for betraying her.
She needed the space to get some air and cool down. That look Scorpion had given her nearly caused her to jump his bones right then and there, regardless of who was watching. But space was futile as he stepped out of the elevator and turned to the men about to follow.
“We’ll meet you outside,” he said with a sharp tone that stopped them in their tracks.
At the command, their backs went rigid, and they nodded with understanding. They were fucking standing at attention. This man was so fucking powerful that he had that type of control over his crew. And the urge to fan her face returned.
She walked to her office without waiting on him. She didn’t dare look at the few programmers behind their screens. Not that she cared what they thought, but she had a reputation to uphold. She couldn’t allow anyone, not even Scorpion, to see his effect on her.
She made it to her office, all the way down the hallway, and unlocked the door, consciously aware of his boots on the carpet behind her—the breathing she imagined she felt on her neck. Stepping inside, she held the door for him.
Very much aware of the eyes on them, she turned and closed the door and took a deep breath before facing him. She half expected to find him already admiring her action figurine collection behind her desk, but when she
turned, she bumped into him, and the impact pushed her back against the door.
He stepped closer, his body so close she could feel his heat on her skin and his breath on her cheek. He leaned his palm against the door, leaned down to her and whispered in her ear.
“Tell me, Little Viper, am I challenging anyone’s territory right now?” His gruff voice vibrated through her body, sending fire scalding every inch of her skin.
Her knees went weak, and she bit back the moan that threatened to escape her lips. Fuck. She knew what he meant and shook her head—not trusting her voice not to betray her again.
“Good,” he growled. “This is a new suit, and I’d hate to get blood on it already.”
She ducked under his arm and tried to walk to her desk, praying to whoever was out there that her knees wouldn’t give in under her. She got her backpack and helmet from a cabinet, shouldering her bag.
“We should probably meet up with the others,” she blurted when he stepped in her direction again, his eyes locked on her lips, “before they think I kidnapped you or that I’m delaying you with something else.”
“Why not both?” His smile was devilish, hitting her like a kick to the chest.
“I don’t need the blond tree to kick down my door,” she scoffed.
“Yeah, he might do that.” Scorpion laughed and the sound did things to her insides.
She strutted past him, refusing to show any sign of the effect he had on her. She wouldn’t give him that power. She made it all the way to the elevator doors without looking back over her shoulder. With every step, she felt his eyes on her ass, and she might have swayed her hips just a bit more for his entertainment.
The elevator took its time to arrive on their level, not bothered by her pushing the downward button about ten times.
When the doors finally opened, she slipped inside and stood with her back against the opposite wall. The silence between them filled the small space as Scorpion leaned against the side wall, hands in his pockets. He never took his eyes off her, just staring with a cocky grin spread across his lips. The bastard knew she was squirming under his gaze.
She refused to break the silence. She also refused to acknowledge his presence with even a glance in his direction. Instead, she picked at the black polish on her nails, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.
After what felt like hours, the doors slid open into the lobby. Scorpion slipped out with a smile, and before she could join him, Gunnar and Dennis appeared at his side.
The three men stopped in unison and turned to her—waiting for her to join them.
With raised eyebrows, she shook her head. Were they always so in sync? Will they be flanking him the whole time? And was she crazy for leaving with the three of them? She’ll find out soon enough, she decided.
As she took her first steps forward, Scorpion instantly positioned himself to her right, with the other two falling into place a step behind him. The pattern of their movements struck her suddenly, a clear picture emerging amidst the casual facade. This was no chance formation. Their actions echoed the precision of trained tactics, a deliberate orchestration of vigilant surveillance. They were constantly alert, scanning for any hint of danger that might threaten their leader or, as it seemed now, her as well.
The realization didn’t bother her. Being from the Underworld had its risks, and she knew that. Her own crew acted the same way around her. She was just surprised that Scorpion and his men did it for her. The instant acceptance touched a nerve, and she stretched her steps—craving fresh air.
The most spectacular sight greeted her on the other side of the revolving door. Parked at the curb were three Kawasaki H2R motorcycles—two silver and one black chrome. It was clear they were custom-made; the bikes weren’t standard with dual seats or the high-tech navigation systems these sported, hinting at an attention to detail far beyond the factory line.
“She’s gorgeous!” Poison breathed, moving to the black chrome bike as if drawn by a magnet. The sleek lines, the gleam of custom details—it was a work of art, practically begging to be ridden. Her fingers itched to grip the handlebars, to feel the hum of power under her control.
“She is,” came Scorpion’s voice, low and close, the warmth of his breath brushing her ear. A shiver prickled along her spine, settling low in her belly. She didn’t dare turn, knowing exactly who he meant and relishing that knowledge for just a moment longer.
“Can we leave already?” Gunnar’s impatient tone sliced through the spell, jarring her back. “I could use a smoke.”
Poison turned, arching a brow, and caught herself before snapping back some flirty retort at Scorpion. Right. They weren’t alone, and that tension between her and him didn’t need an audience. “Where did you guys have in mind?” she asked, her voice slipping into something cool, collected, though excitement buzzed under her skin.
“How about lady’s choice?” Scorpion said, eyes lingering on her as if he’d follow her anywhere.
She grinned, a wicked spark igniting inside her. “I know just the place. Give me a sec—I’ve got my bike parked ‘round back.”
“I’ll give you a lift,” he offered, motioning to the gleaming machine behind her.
Her pulse picked up a notch, though she kept her tone light, playful. “Only if I get to drive.” She flashed him her best wide-eyed, innocent look, fully aware it wouldn’t fool him for a second.
“In your dreams, sister,” Gunnar scoffed, rolling his eyes. But before she could blink, Scorpion pulled a key from his pocket and dangled it in front of her, the metallic glint catching the light.
“What the fuck, dude?” Gunnar whined. “I’ve never been allowed to drive any of your bikes!”
Poison barely heard him. Her gaze locked on that key, anticipation coiling tight in her gut. But when she reached for it, Scorpion snatched it back, his gaze dark, teasing. “Just a warning,” he murmured, his eyes raking over her in a way that felt like a challenge. “She’s powerful.”
Poison rolled her eyes, snatching the key from his hand, her skin brushing his fingers for a beat longer than necessary. “I’m used to having power between my legs,” she purred, throwing a wink at the three men watching her.
Swinging her leg over the seat, she settled into the leather, feeling the machine’s weight under her, solid and ready. Her hands skimmed over the handlebars.
With a smirk, she patted the leather behind her, meeting his gaze dead-on. “Hop on, Scorpion. Unless you’re scared to ride with me.”
He climbed on without a word, his hands settling on her waist as he pressed in close, his chest a warm, solid presence against her back. For a split second, she let herself feel him there, all hard edges and quiet intensity, and a thrill licked through her veins.
She revved the engine, her voice dropping into a low purr. “You do make such a cute backpack.”
He laughed, a dark, rich sound, his grin flashing. “Lead the way, Little Viper.”
But regret instantly took over the excitement in her when he planted his palms on her thighs to stabilize himself. Fuck. All the blood in her head drained to her legs, and she imagined every dirty detail of what she’d like to do to him on that very bike.
“Hold on,” she grunted through a clenched jaw, shoving her helmet on before speeding onto the street.
She didn’t wait to see if the other two were following. She needed the adrenaline to clear her thoughts. She twisted the throttle, and the force pushed her back into him.
She was grateful it was such a short drive to the parking lot. Stopping the bike next to her own, she jumped off and got onto her Ducati, finally remembering how to breathe again.
Without a word, she started the bike, the purr paling in comparison to Scorpion’s, and signaled him to follow. He flanked her three o’clock, and the moment they left the parking lot, Gunnar and Dennis had his four and eight.