Chapter Fourteen
Malachi's POV
The last meeting dragged on forever. Some investor droning about risk management and profit margins. Numbers I could have analyzed in my sleep. But I nodded at the right moments, asked the appropriate questions, and signed where I needed to.
All while thinking about her.
Finally, the meeting ended. I stood, shook hands, and watched them file out of the conference room. The moment the door closed, I pulled out my phone and called Maurice.
"Yes, sir?"
"Reschedule the remaining meetings for today. Make them video calls. I'll take them from my office."
"All of them?"
"Did I stutter?"
"No, sir. I'll handle it right away."
I ended the call and headed back to my office. The hallways were quieter now, most employees already gone for the day. My footsteps echoed against the marble floors as I made my way to the elevator.
When I reached the top floor, the office was silent. Peaceful. The city lights spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows across the room.
And there she was.
Alicia sat at her desk, her head resting on her arms. Her burgundy hair spilled across the table like dark silk, catching the light. Papers were scattered around her, and her laptop screen had gone dark.
She was asleep.
I walked closer, my steps careful and quiet. I didn't want to wake her yet. Not when she looked like this. Unguarded. Vulnerable.
Beautiful.
Her lips were slightly parted, and I could see the faint rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed. One of the files beneath her face had a small damp spot where she'd drooled.
I couldn't help but smile.
This was a side of Alicia I'd never seen. Not the controlled, careful woman who kept everyone at a distance. Not the wife who endured Travis's abuse in silence. Just her. Exhausted and human.
I reached out, my fingers hovering over her cheek. Then, gently, I brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Her skin was warm beneath my touch, soft.
She stirred slightly, and I pulled my hand back. But it was too late.
Her eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding them for a moment before they focused on me. She jerked upright so fast that papers flew off the desk.
And that's when I saw it. The drool. The hair sticking up at odd angles. The papers stuck to her cheek.
I couldn't hold back my laughter.
"Comfortable?" I asked.
She looked mortified. Her hands flew to her mouth, then to her hair, trying to fix the mess. "I wasn't sleeping. I was just—"
"Drooling on company files?"
Her face turned red. Actually red. It was adorable.
"I don't drool," she protested.
I gestured to the damp spot on the paper. "The evidence suggests otherwise."
She grabbed the file and started fanning it, refusing to look at me. I leaned against her desk, enjoying every second of her embarrassment.
"How long was I asleep?" she asked.
"Long enough." I crossed my arms. "You were snoring too."
"I was not!"
"Okay, maybe not snoring. But you did make these little sounds." I watched her squirm. "Like a kitten."
She glared at me, and I had to bite back another laugh. She was so easy to tease. So reactive.
"I don't normally sleep at work," she said, trying to regain some dignity.
"No?" I leaned in slightly. "Then what kept you up all night? Or should I say who?"
"I slept fine."
Liar. Her eyes shifted left. Her fingers tightened around the paper. All her tells were on full display.
"You were thinking about me, weren't you?" I pressed.
She pulled back when I reached out to tuck another strand of hair behind her ear. But not before I felt her pulse jump beneath my fingertips.
"You're very full of yourself," she said.
"And you're very bad at denying things."
She couldn't argue with that. I could see it in her eyes. The admission she wouldn't voice. That I'd gotten under her skin. Into her head. Into her thoughts when she was alone in the dark.
Good.
"Have you eaten?" I asked, shifting gears.
"Yes. I went to the cafeteria during lunch."
Something dark flickered through me at the memory. I'd watched her on the security feed. Watched those two employees talk about me. Watched Alicia's hands curl into fists. Watched her face flush with something that looked a lot like jealousy.
"And how was that?" I kept my voice casual.
"Fine."
Another lie. But I let it go. For now.
We finished the remaining work together. I signed contracts. She organized schedules. Every few minutes, I'd catch her looking at me when she thought I wasn't paying attention.
I was always paying attention.
By the time we finished, the sky outside had turned dark. Most of the city lights had come on, turning the office into an observation deck.
"Ready?" I asked, grabbing my jacket.
She nodded, gathering her things.
The elevator ride down was quiet. She stood on the opposite side, as far from me as the small space allowed. But I could still smell her perfume. Still feel the heat of her presence.
Maurice was waiting with the car, and we slid into the back seat. This time, I sat closer. Close enough that my thigh almost touched hers. Close enough to feel her tense.
The drive home was torture. Sweet torture. Because I knew she was aware of every inch between us. Every accidental brush when the car turned. Every moment our legs almost touched.
When we arrived at the mansion, dinner was already being served. Grandfather sat at the head of the table, smiling when he saw us.
"Ah, there they are! How was your first day at the office together?"
Alicia smiled. That polite, practiced smile she wore like armor. "Everything went well. The office is beautiful, and the work was manageable."
"Good, good. I knew I could trust you both."
I caught Mario's glare from across the table. He was seething. I could practically taste his jealousy from here. He'd wanted control of the company. Wanted Grandfather's approval. But the old man had chosen us instead.
Poor Mario. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.
"And how is my grandson treating you?" Grandfather asked Alicia. "He's not working you too hard, is he?"
"Not at all," she said quickly. "He's been very professional."
I almost laughed. Professional. If only he knew what I'd been thinking all day. What I wanted to do to her on that desk. Against those windows. In the private elevator where no one could see.
Professional was the last word I'd use.
Dinner was served, and we all began eating. The usual tension settled over the table. Everyone lost in their own thoughts. Their own schemes.
I waited until everyone was distracted. Then I moved my foot, slowly extending it under the table until I found hers.
She froze. Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
I pressed my foot against her ankle. Gentle. Testing her patience.
She shifted away. I followed.
Her eyes flicked to mine, a warning in them. But I just took another bite of my steak, keeping my expression neutral.
My foot slid higher, brushing against her calf. I could feel the tension in her leg. The way she held herself so still, like if she didn't move, I'd stop.
I wouldn't.
Grandfather talked about expansion plans. Mario argued about overseas investments. Sasha complained about something irrelevant.
And through it all, I kept my foot pressed against Alicia's leg. A constant reminder that she was mine. That no matter how much she tried to resist, I was already inside her head.
Already winning.
After dinner, I excused myself. Real work needed to be done. Contracts to review. Business deals to finalize. The kind of work that couldn't wait.
But as I walked to my office, I couldn't stop thinking about the way she'd looked at dinner. Flustered. Flushed. Trying so hard to maintain control while I slowly took it away from her.
Soon, she wouldn't even try to resist anymore.
Soon, she'd stop fighting what we both knew was inevitable.