Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Eli
Incident reports sprawl across my desk like casualties, each page documenting another assault on our building's safety systems. Three in the past week. Each more aggressive than the last. My eyes burn from reading them, the words beginning to swim and merge in a dance of exhaustion and dread.
I trace one finger along the latest breach pattern. Bold. Calculated. Almost... intimate in its precision. Whoever's behind this knows exactly where to press to make us bleed.
“They’re at it again.” Drake’s voice carries through my phone, rough with exhaustion. “Second hit tonight.”
I check the time: 11:47 PM. “Did you stop it?”
“Yeah, but...” He sighs. “They’re getting bolder, Eli. Like they’re mapping out every weak spot they can find.”
My attention drifts to the security feed, where Isla’s still working in the Innovation Lab.
She hasn’t left before midnight all week, checking and rechecking every system herself.
The sight of her bent over her tablet, copper hair falling loose from its clip, stirs something I’ve been trying my damned best to ignore.
“Eli” IRIS cuts through my thoughts, “there’s movement at the construction site. Unauthorized access to the main controls.”
My gut clenches. This is different. “Show me.”
The security feeds fill my screen – shadowy figures moving with purpose through the rain near the northwest corner. Even through the storm-blurred cameras, their intentions are clear.
“I’ve notified Drake,” IRIS adds. “He’s watching remotely.”
“I’m here.” Isla’s voice from the doorway hits like electricity.
“Drake called. We need to check this ourselves.”
She’s already pulling on her rain jacket, mouth set in that stubborn line I know too well. After days of fighting these attacks from behind screens, we both understand what it means that they’re at the site.
“Storm’s getting worse,” I say, standing. “We should wait?—”
“For what? More damage?” She meets my gaze, all fire and determination. “If they’re messing with the safety controls directly, we need to move. Now.”
These long nights working together have only made it harder to ignore what’s building between us. Even now, with rain plastering her hair to her neck and worry creasing her brow, she’s magnetic.
“Damn it, Isla—” I catch myself, try for calm.
“Let me at least get security to?—”
“They’ll run if they see security. We need to catch them in the act.” She’s already moving. “Coming?”
I snag my coat, muttering curses.
“IRIS, keep watching. Tell us if anything changes. And get Drake?—”
“Already coordinating with him. The elevator’s waiting.”
Days of pretending that kiss didn’t change everything, that we can keep this professional. Now we’re walking into another crisis together, and I’m not sure what scares me more – what we might find at the site, or what we might find between us.
Rain hammers the windshield faster than the wipers can clear it. I take Canal Street too fast, grip tight on the wheel. The glow from Isla’s phone paints her face in shadows next to me.
“Security team’s en route,” I say, already dialing Xander. “Five minutes out.”
“They need to move faster.” Her voice is tight. “Drake says they’re already into the safety controls.”
“Shit.” The curse slips out before I can catch it. My gut tells me this isn’t random, not with Wolfe breathing down our necks since the Ethics Committee signed off yesterday.
“Take the next left,” she says, not looking up. “Traffic’s backed up on Broadway.”
The car fills with the scent of her rain-dampened hair, that familiar citrus and something uniquely her. I crack the window, needing air that doesn’t remind me of late nights in the Innovation Lab, of almost-kisses and professional boundaries wearing thin.
Lightning splits the sky as we pull up to the site. The Artisan Hotel looms above us, beautiful even half-finished. Rain streams down the steel and glass, catching the security lights. Her vision realized in concrete and steel, taking shape floor by floor.
“There.” She grabs my arm, pointing toward movement near the northwest corner. “By the main controls.”
I kill the engine. “IRIS, where’s our security team?”
“Three minutes out,” IRIS replies through our phones. “Police have been notified as well.”
“Drake—” Isla starts.
“Already documenting everything,” he cuts in, voice crackling. “Getting it all on camera. But whatever they’re doing to those controls...”
“We stay in the car,” I say firmly, though everything in me wants to stop them. “Let security handle the intruders. Our job is to assess the damage once it’s clear.”
She starts to protest, but I cut her off.
“You’re too valuable to this project to risk yourself. Both of us are.”
Thunder rolls overhead. I watch the fight play across her face – that battle between her need to act and the knowledge that I’m right.
“Fine,” she finally says. “But the moment security clears the scene?—”
“We check the controls. Together.”
We watch from the car as security sweeps the site, their flashlights cutting through the rain. My phone buzzes – Xander, probably wondering why his COO is sitting in a construction site parking lot at midnight. I let it go to voicemail.
“They’re gone,” the head of security reports through our phones. “But you need to see this.”
The storm turns the short walk endless. Rain soaks through everything, and Isla shivers beside me.
Her white blouse is soaked through, clinging to her breasts, and fuck – I can see her nipples hard against the fabric.
My cock stirs and I quickly shrug out of my jacket, holding it out to her.
Need to cover her up before anyone else sees, before she notices how my body’s responding to her.
“Don’t.” Her voice is sharp, but her arms are wrapped tight around herself.
“I’m fine.”
I grit my teeth, willing away the throb of want that hits me low in the gut.
Her body still affects me like a fever. The security team’s footsteps echo behind us, reminding me where we are, what we’re doing.
But I can’t stop thinking about how easily I could warm her up, how she used to shiver under my mouth when I?—
The control room door hangs open, water pooling on the floor.
Inside, the screens flash with warning messages, casting an eerie glow over the security team’s grim faces.
One look at the main panel tells me everything.
I force myself to focus on the crisis at hand, not the way her wet clothes shape every curve I used to know by heart.
“Jesus.” I run a hand through my wet hair. “How bad?”
Isla’s already at the controls, water dripping from her clothes as she types.
“They’ve locked us out of our own system.” Her voice catches. “Every safety control, every backup...”
“Isla,” IRIS chimes in, “I’m detecting an unauthorized program running through the primary controls.”
“Drake?” I ask, moving closer to Isla. Not to touch her – we have an audience – but to see the screens. At least that’s what I tell myself.
“Working on it,” he answers. “But this is next level. Professional job.”
“Clear the room,” I tell the security team. “And double the patrols. They might come back.”
Once we’re alone, Isla’s shoulders drop slightly. She leans over the keyboard, copper hair falling forward, and my hands itch to brush it back. To offer comfort I know she won’t accept.
“Wolfe’s getting desperate,” she mutters, fingers flying over keys. “The Ethics Committee approval must have pushed him over the edge.”
“Hey.” I step closer, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat of her through our wet clothes. “We’ll fix this.”
She turns, and suddenly we’re sharing breath in the dim light. Water trickles down her neck, and I track its path before I can stop myself. Her eyes darken.
“Eli—”
The lights snap on. We spring apart like guilty teenagers as two of the junior engineers barge in, arguing about generators. Just like that, the moment shatters.
“I should...” She gestures to the controls, professional mask sliding back into place. But her hands shake slightly as she turns away.
“Yeah.” I step back, straightening my tie even though I’m soaked through.
“I’ll check in with security.”
But we both feel it – this thing building between us, stronger than any storm. And sooner or later, something’s got to give.
An hour later, the junior engineers finally leave, and the air changes the moment we’re alone. Isla won’t look at me, but I catch the way her breath hitches when I move closer to check the screens. The storm’s picked up, rain beating against the windows like a pulse.
“Everything’s fried.” Her voice is rough from barking orders all night. She smells like rain and that citrus perfume that’s been driving me crazy all week.
“The backup systems, the new installations...”
She slams her palm against the desk. “Damn it!”
I want to wrap my arms around her, want to feel her lean back against me like she used to when we worked late. Want things I have no right to want anymore.
“Drake’s got the footage,” I manage, though my voice sounds thick. “We’ll prove it was Wolfe.”
“Will we?” She spins to face me, and God, she’s beautiful when she’s angry. Rain has frizzed her hair into copper waves around her face, and her blouse clings to her curves in a way that makes my mouth go dry.
“Because right now all I see is?—”
“We’re not failing.” I step closer, drawn by that magnetic pull she’s always had over me. Her eyes drop to my mouth for just a second before snapping back up.
“This is just a setback.”
“A setback?” She laughs, but it catches in her throat as I move into her space. “Our safety controls are compromised, the Ethics Committee?—”
“We’ll handle it.” I catch her arm as she tries to turn away. Her skin burns against my palm. “Together.”
“Together,” she repeats, and I watch her throat move as she swallows. “Right. Because that worked so well?—”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” She tries to pull away, but I hold on. The movement brings her chest against mine, and I feel her sharp intake of breath.
“You standing there, acting like you can fix everything with your perfect control and your?—”
I kiss her.
Not gentle this time. Not like that careful kiss in the lab. This is raw need and years of wanting...
“Tell me to stop,” I murmur, but I’m already sinking, already breathing her in.
Isla’s hands tremble where they grip my shirt, like she’s caught between fighting and falling.
The rain slithers down her neck, tracing the pulse that pounds just beneath her skin.
She doesn’t speak.
Her lips part—not a word, just a breath. A surrender.
I snap.
The moment my mouth crashes into hers, I know.
There’s no going back.
She gasps into the kiss, and I swallow the sound, pressing her into the nearest wall, the cold steel of the control panel biting through her wet clothes. She arches, a whimper spilling from her throat as her fingers curl into my shirt.
God, I need more.
I fist my hand in her damp hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss. No space, no logic, just Isla. Just the way she fits against me, the way she tastes like storm clouds and bad decisions.
She bites my lower lip, and I groan, shoving my thigh between hers. Her hips rock against me, instinctive, needy, and it’s so easy—too easy—to slip back into this, into us.
Her fingers trail down my chest, but just before she reaches my belt?—
IRIS’s chime slices through the haze.
“Priority alert. Multiple breach attempts detected.”
We break apart, ragged, ruined. Isla’s lips are swollen, her pupils blown.
My hands are still tangled in her hair, and my body screams at me to ignore the interruption. To keep taking, keep tasting.
But reality slams back in, hard.
Isla shudders, stepping back. Her fingers fly to her damp blouse, smoothing where I’ve wrinkled it. Where I almost undid the buttons.
Fuck.
I can’t stop staring at her kiss-swollen lips, at the mark I’ve left on her neck. Her chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, and all I can think about is how easily I could lift her onto that control panel, how perfectly her legs would wrap around my waist...
“The systems,” she whispers, turning back to the screens. But her voice is wrecked, and her fingers shake over the keys.
“Right.” I step back, running a hand through my hair. “The systems.”
But we both know everything’s changed. No going back now. Not after feeling her melt against me like that. Not after tasting how much she still wants this – wants us – no matter how hard she tries to fight it.
The storm’s got nothing on what’s building between us.