They walked out of the meeting room together, but the silence between them was louder than the heated arguments left behind. His stride was sharp and deliberate, every step echoing with contained fury. She followed a pace behind, her heels clicking nervously against the marble floor, her eyes darting to his back, wishing she could read what was in his mind.

When they reached the quiet corridor, he stopped suddenly. She froze too, the stillness making her heart pound harder than the voices in the meeting had. He turned to her slowly, and the look in his eyes made her shrink instinctively. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tight, his whole body vibrating with restrained anger.

“You were reckless,” he said, his voice low, each word weighted like stone.

Her breath caught, and her gaze fell to the floor. Fingers twisted into the fabric of her dress, and her voice came out soft, almost pleading. “I only wanted to help…”

He inhaled sharply, as though her answer only fueled the storm inside him. In a single, fluid motion, his hands gripped her waist and lifted her effortlessly onto the cabinet pressed against the wall. The impact made the wood creak softly.

She gasped, her hands instinctively clutching his shoulders, wide eyes meeting his. Her legs dangled just above the floor, the cold wood beneath her contrasting with the burning warmth of his presence so close. One arm shot up, bracing against the wall beside her head, trapping her in place, while the other steadied her knee.

From this angle, his face was shadowed, but his eyes shone with fire. He was angry—angry at her decision, angry at the danger it had brought—but behind that fire, there was something rawer, something unspoken. His touch was firm, but not cruel. The slight tremor in his fingers betrayed him. It wasn’t just fury. It was fear.