Chapter 6
EILISH
There’s no blindfold involved the second time I step off the elevators into the offices of Ironclad Capital. This time, I can truly stare in awe at the sheer opulence of the place.
Holy crap .
The main offices are decorated in a similar fashion to Gavan’s personal one, all slate gray and dark wood tones. The far wall—the height of two floors—is all glass, with a view similar to the one from Gavan’s office. It smells like it did the other night: clean, cool, and rich .
Even though it’s only seven-fifty in the morning, the place is already teeming with activity.
In the main area, sitting at small clusters of desks boasting top-of-the-line curved, widescreen monitors, financial analysts and traders stare intently at margin lines and stock tickers as they bark buy and sell orders into phones.
A pretty brunette looks up from the very on-brand slate and dark wood reception desk and gives me a tight, professional smile. “Yes?”
“Hi, I’m…” I swallow. “I’m here to see Gavan.”
Her brow furrows a touch.
“Mr. Tsarenko, I mean. He’s expecting me.”
She eyes me cooly. “And you are…?”
“Uh, Eilish. Kildare.”
She glances at something on her screen and purses her lips. “Of course.” She stands, smoothing down a chic dress as she steps out from behind her desk. “If you’d like to follow me.”
As we walk across to the sweeping staircase that I remember Britney leading me up, the receptionist glances back at me.
“I love your dress, by the way.”
I already can tell “cold bitch” is clearly her default setting, and knowing Gavan, it’s probably the reason he picked her to be the unfriendly but attractive face people first see when they walk into his company offices.
I can also tell that she clearly enjoys having that frosty attitude, and that mentioning my dress isn’t just her “being nice”.
“Dior?”
I nod, glancing down at the sleeveless peachy-pink belted mid-length dress. I might have plenty of flaws and faults—okay, I do have plenty of flaws and faults—but one thing I’ve got down to an art form is dressing stylishly for a business meeting. “Yeah. Is it a bit much?”
She eyes me up and down. “Oh my God, no . I’m just jealous. It’s gorgeous.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
At the top of the staircase, a balcony wraps around the perimeter of the main floor below. She leads me to an imposing dark wood door, and I realize with a nervous clench of my stomach that we’re here already.
Gavan’s office.
The scene of the crime. My crime .
Or of one of them, at least.
“I’m Rachel, by the way.”
“Eilish, hi.”
She smiles a much less frosty smile than she first did downstairs before turning and knocking lightly on the door.
“Send her in.”
After she leaves with a nod I turn back to the door and, taking a shaky breath, open it to step inside.
Instantly, and I mean instantly , I’m nailed to the spot when those piercing, gunmetal gray eyes stab into me from across the room. I swallow, my pulse hammering in my ears and my mouth going dry as I stare across the office at him.
Gavan’s sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, both causally and stiffly at the same time, if that’s possible.
He’s wearing another impeccable three-piece suit—this one a dark navy blue with a crisp white dress shirt with French cuffs.
His longish hair is shoved back from his face—somehow cavalier and yet perfectly styled.
The dark scruff on his razor-sharp jaw ripples as he grinds his teeth and eviscerates me with those eyes.
Whatever this is, whatever he wants, I can do this .
“Uh, hi,” I mumble, feeling lightheaded and awkward as I shut the door behind me. Shit. I should have had a bigger breakfast. Or, you know, slept a little last night.
Or not broken in here and smashed the hundred-million-dollar gift from his dead father in the first place, you absolute moron .
Gavan doesn’t say a word. He just raises a hand, and I hate that something disturbing in me twists heatedly when he crooks two fingers, beckoning me to him in the same way he did before. I obey him, clicking across the room in my heels until I’m standing in front of his desk.
“I…I just wanted to say again how sorry I am for—”
“Coffee.”
I stumble over my words, frowning at him. “Pardon me?”
“ Coffee ,” he repeats, a glint in his eyes and a note of annoyance in his voice.
He nods his chin across the room. Next to an elegant brass and glass bar cart, there’s an alcove built into the wall that houses a sink and a super fancy and complicated-looking espresso machine, with what appears to be a polished metal mini-fridge beneath it.
“Specifically, a cappuccino. Two-percent milk, no sugar, with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top.”
I blink, staring at him.
“I—I’m not sure I under—”
“I was under the impression that you spoke English.”
My lips thin. “Obviously, I do.”
“Well then, obviously , lose the fucking attitude.”
I chew on my lip as my fingers twist together in front of me.
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
“I think I’m just confused as to what it is I’m doing here.”
“Currently?” he growls. “Currently you’re not getting me that fucking cappuccino. But I think there’s an easy solution to that dilemma. Can you guess what it might be?” There’s pure venom in his tone, and malice in his eyes.
I clear my throat. “Um, making you a cappuccino?”
“Ahh. I knew there was a reason Columbia University let you in.”
My eyes drop. “Look, again, I am so very sorry about what happened—”
“Is continuing to ignore my request humorous to you?” The pure ice in his voice chills me to the bone and my eyes snap back to his. “Like, is this a bit of some kind? Part of a weak standup comedy routine?”
I shake my head. “No,” I mumble.
“Well?”
Okay, he’s pissed. He’s more than pissed, but I guess I deserve that. “Is…that what I’m here to do?”
Gavan snorts and his eyes rake me up and down. “You’re here to do whatever I goddamn tell you to do. Whenever I tell you to do it. Without question.”
He suddenly stands, towering over me. He steps out from behind the desk, moving slowly but deliberately, like a jaguar stalking prey he’s already mauled half to death.
“And to be clear, Eilish,” he growls, brushing my shoulder as he circles me. “I mean anything I tell you to do.”
I gasp sharply as he moves my ponytail away from my neck and leans down. His hot breath teases over my skin as my own catches.
“ Anything ,” he rasps darkly and sensually.
Raw energy, fear, and adrenaline explode in my core.
“You…” I shake my head, still looking forward. “You don’t own me—”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. I do , Eilish,” Gavan growls as he prowls around me in lazy circles, moving in for the kill. “If I tell you to get me that goddamn cappuccino, you get it . If I tell you to do it in the next thirty fucking seconds, you will .”
He pauses behind me, and my breath hitches as I feel his lips millimeters from my ear.
“And if I tell you to get that goddamn cappuccino in the next thirty seconds wearing nothing but your bra and panties…”
My eyes stare, and heat explodes in my face.
“I will not be—”
“I wasn’t asking the first time, and I certainly won’t be the second.”
The room goes still, humming and crackling with a dark malevolence. My pulse pounds in my ears and the hollow of my throat as Gavan slowly finishes circling me, until he’s standing right over me again, glaring down into my eyes.
“Now, are you going to be a good girl and get me that coffee?”
It’s like the flick of a lighter sparking in the darkness when he says it. A lick of flame igniting where it shouldn’t.
Are you going to be a good girl?
My jaw tightens. Gavan’s flinty eyes gleam as his lips curl, spotting the defiance in my silence.
“The clock is ticking,” he growls. “Tick-fucking-tock, Eilish. Lest you forget, one hundred and twenty-four million, five hundred thousand dollars is more than enough money to go to war over.”
I swallow. “So that extra five hundred thousand is back on the ticket?”
He smiles coldly. “My charity has run dry. War looms. Your family finding out exactly the murderous type of girl that you are also looms—”
“ Fuck you —”
I gasp, choking as his arm shoots out and his thick, tattooed fingers grip my jaw tightly, tilting my head up to his gaze.
“Speak to me like that again, solnishka , and I’ll find another use for that mouth.”
Sweet fucking Jesus .
Just like a moment ago when he said “good girl”, a spark inside of me flickers and licks at the darkness.
“Ten. Nine. Eight—”
“ Okay! ” I blurt. “Okay! I’ll get you your freaking cappuccino, okay?!”
Gavan smiles ruthlessly, saying nothing as he lets his veined hand drop from my jaw.
He turns and casually strolls over to the dark leather tufted couch by the windows and sinks into it before crossing his legs, his arms draped across the back casually.
He lifts a brow as I stand there, my face burning.
“I’m waiting.”
A lump lodges in my throat as I slowly turn away from him. I wet my lips, shaking as I reach around to find the zipper at the back of the dress. I can feel the fabric peel away from my skin, from my nape down to the middle of my back, exposing the clasp of my bra.
Shivering, I pull my arms free and push the dress down over my chest, still facing away from him, but feeling his smoldering gaze tracing over my bare skin.
I twist my hips as I slide the dress further down, pausing for a moment.
“Seven. Six—”
“I’m doing it, okay?” I hiss quietly, my face throbbing with shame and something else. I slip the dress the rest of the way down, blushing furiously when I have to bend at the waist, feeling his eyes on my ass as I start to remove my heels.
“Leave them on.”
My core clenches as I nod quietly, slipping the dress over the shoes. I stand, awkwardly holding the dress I was so pleased with myself for choosing for today’s meeting. I fold it in half and numbly place it on his immaculate desk.
I am now standing—for the first time ever, I might add—in front of a man in nothing but my underwear.