Bound by boardroom

pper, the silence between her and Damien heavier than the city hum outside. He'd stepped away after his confession-V. Kessler. A partner. A problem.-and now he leaned against the bar, pouring anot

Used? Wanted? Lost? She didn't even know. She turned away, staring out at the skyline, her reflection a ghost in the glass. "I should go." "No." His hand caught her wrist, gentle but firm, pulling her back to face him. "Stay." "Why?" She searched his eyes, those storm-gray depths that gave nothing away. "So you can keep me guessing? Keep me under your thumb?" He let go, running a hand through his hair, a rare crack in his composure. "You think that's all this is? Control?" He laughed, a bitter edge to it. "If I wanted a puppet, Elena, I wouldn't have picked you." Her breath hitched. "Then what do you want?" He didn't answer right away, just looked at her-really looked, like he was seeing past the dress, past the defiance, to something raw underneath. "I don't know," he admitted finally, voice quieter than she'd ever heard it. "But I don't want you to leave." The words hung there, fragile, unexpected. She should've walked out. Should've grabbed her bag and called it quits-contract be damned. But her feet stayed rooted, her heart pounding