Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Solenn
The office was unusually quiet, the hum of keyboards and ringing phones replaced by the muffled sounds of the city outside.
Most employees had already left, leaving only the glow of desk lamps and the occasional shuffle of papers breaking the silence.
I was finishing the last of my emails when I heard footsteps—a confident, easy stride that didn’t belong to Maverick.
"Asher Spencer," I mused without looking up. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"You wound me," Asher said, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense as he leaned against my desk. "What if I just missed your charming presence?"
I finally looked up, arching an eyebrow. "Then I’d say you’re either lying or extremely bored."
"Maybe both," he admitted with a grin, then gave me an exaggerated once-over. "Tell me, do you ever leave this office, or do they have a secret cot set up in the back?"
I smirked, tapping my pen against my desk. "I enjoy my job."
He shook his head. "That’s not an answer."
I shrugged, watching him closely. He had that same Spencer confidence as his brother but wore it differently—looser, more playful.
Where Maverick was all sharp edges and control, Asher moved through life like everything was meant to amuse him.
And maybe that’s why I didn’t pull away when he rested his hand on the edge of my desk, leaning in just slightly.
"You work too much," he said smoothly. "Let me steal you for dinner."
My fingers paused mid-type, a small thrill running down my spine—not because of Asher, but because of the storm brewing just a few feet away.
I didn’t have to look to know Maverick had heard.
The energy in the room shifted, thickening, pressing against my skin in a way that made me hyperaware of every movement.
I turned to Asher, my expression unreadable, but my mind was already made up.
"Why not?" I said lightly.
It was subtle, but I felt the crack in the air before I even looked toward Maverick’s office. He was standing at the window, his expression unreadable, but his eyes locked onto me like a warning.
Asher, oblivious to the silent war unfolding, grinned. "Perfect. I’ll pick you up at seven."
I nodded, slipping my bag over my shoulder, pretending I didn’t feel the weight of Maverick’s gaze burning into me. Pretending that my pulse wasn’t racing for all the wrong reasons.
By the time I returned to grab my coat, the office was almost entirely deserted. The last few employees had trickled out, leaving behind dimmed lights and the faint hum of the city outside. I was reaching for my coat when I felt the shift again—the unmistakable presence of him.
Maverick.
I didn’t turn, not right away. Instead, I took my time adjusting my coat, waiting, knowing he wouldn’t let me walk out that door without saying something.
Then, finally—his voice. Low. Controlled. Dangerous.
"You’re playing a dangerous game, Solenn."
I swallowed, but my expression remained composed as I turned to face him. He was closer than I expected, standing just a few steps away, his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders tense. His face was calm, but his eyes were anything but.
"I have no idea what you mean," I said, tilting my head slightly, refusing to let him see that he had gotten to me.
His gaze dropped briefly—to my throat, to the steady rise and fall of my chest—before flicking back up. "You do."
I exhaled slowly, holding my ground. "Asher invited me to dinner. I accepted. That’s hardly a crime."
Maverick’s jaw flexed, his patience hanging by a thread. "You think this is about Asher?"
I lifted a brow. "Isn’t it?"
He took another step forward, his heat curling around me, his scent—**clean, dark, and entirely too distracting—**invading my space. I should have moved away. I didn’t.
"You want my attention that badly?" he murmured, his voice dropping just enough to send a slow burn down my spine.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. "I think you’re the one giving it to me, Maverick."
His breath hitched—just slightly. And then, before I could react, his fingers brushed over my wrist.
The touch was barely there, a slow, dragging motion that sent sparks shooting through my veins. His thumb skated across my pulse point, feeling the way my heartbeat stuttered.
My breath caught.
"Maverick," I warned, but it didn’t sound convincing.
He leaned in, his lips grazing just below my ear, his breath warm, teasing, dangerous.
Then—his lips brushed my neck.
Soft. Barely there.
And then teeth.
A slow, deliberate bite—not enough to hurt, but enough to claim.
I gasped, heat slamming into me all at once.
My fingers curled into the fabric of my coat, my entire body locked in place as his mouth lingered against my skin, as if savoring the way I reacted.
Then—slowly, torturously—he pulled away.
His eyes flicked down to where a faint red mark was now forming, satisfaction flickering through his gaze as he straightened.
"Go to dinner," he said smoothly, adjusting his cufflinks like nothing had just happened. "Let’s see if you can keep your mind on him."
I couldn’t breathe.
For the first time since meeting him, I had no words.
Because he had just done the one thing I never thought he would. He had marked me.
I stepped back, needing space, needing air, needing to regain control of whatever the hell was happening between us.
I smoothed my coat, lifting my chin. "You’re ridiculous."
He smirked. "And you’re predictable."
I narrowed my eyes, ignoring the way my skin still tingled where his lips had been. "Enjoy your night, Mr. Spencer."
Then I turned and walked away.
Not because I wanted to.
But because if I stayed a second longer, I might have done something reckless.