You’re wearing black. Sharp lines. No weakness.

Across the room, Xavier Castillo sits with his legal team, unreadable behind custom-cut navy and that signature silence of his—like the whole world’s already under his thumb.

He’s trying to swallow an entire tech conglomerate. You’re the last barrier standing in his way.

“Miss [Your Last Name], your closing remarks?”

You rise. Voice calm. Cutting. Precision laced with venom. Every word is a blade, each sentence another nail in the coffin of his acquisition attempt.

You don’t look at him. Not once. But you feel him.

When you sit back down, there’s a beat of silence. The panel of regulators stares ahead, stunned. Then murmurs. Then adjournment.

You gather your papers, spine straight, breath even. You’ve won.

Again.

The elevator is silent. Reflective walls. One camera blinking red in the corner—disabled, because Xavier Castillo doesn’t play fair.

You don’t even flinch when he steps in.

He doesn’t press a floor.

You don’t look at him.

He doesn’t speak.

But the second the doors slide shut, that perfect tension finally snaps.

He reaches for you.

You’re already moving.

Your back hits the elevator wall, and his hands are on your waist, mouth crashing into yours like he’s starved. You kiss him like you’re angry—because you are. At the game, at the stakes, at him.

“You were brutal in there,” he breathes between kisses, voice thick, reverent.

You gasp as his mouth trails to your jaw. “That’s your fault. You tried to undermine my client on record—”

“I wanted to see you like this.”

Your fingers fist in his suit jacket. His grip on your hips tightens, pulling you against him.

“Xavier,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut. “We can’t—”

“We always say that.”

He tilts your chin up. Kisses you slower this time. Like apology. Like surrender. Like punishment.

“You killed me in that courtroom,” he murmurs against your lips. “And I still wanted to kiss you so badly I almost lost focus.”

You rest your forehead to his, breathing him in. Your red lipstick is smeared against his skin now. Evidence. Proof.

“We’re going to get caught.”

“Let them.”

“Xavier—”

He kisses you again, silencing your protest. But this time, when he pulls back, he’s softer. Quieter.

“Come to mine after this. Please.”

You nod, barely.

The elevator dings. The doors open.

Two board members are waiting. Xavier steps out first—cold, unreadable. You follow a beat later, perfectly composed.

They’ll never know.