Hidden truth

My wrist throbbed with every heartbeat. I pulled my sleeve down over the dark blue bruise, holding my bag strap tightly as the elevator doors opened.

The office was quiet. The overhead lights hummed, someone typing far off. I kept my chin up and my eyes on the floorboards right in front of my feet. One step. Two steps. Three steps

Don't look at his office.

I could feel it on my left anyway, heavy, like a shadow with weight. Two days ago I'd watched him fucking his secretary right In that office. ohh God i dont wanna think about it.

I bit the inside of my lip until I tasted copper. I walked faster towards my desk in the back corner. My spine stayed stiff. I didn't turn my head, not even a little.

A hard hand grabbed my arm without warning.

His skin was hot. It burned right through my clothes. Before I could catch my balance, my feet slipped on the smooth floor. He pulled me hard into a small, dark storage room off the main hallway.

He kicked the heavy door shut behind us. Click. The lock snapped tight. It blocked out all the noise from the rest of the office.

"You walked right past me," Julian said.

His voice was deep, rough, and angry at the same time. He breathed hot air onto my neck. He did not let go of my arm. His long fingers slid down to my wrist and pressed hard right on top of my purple bruise. Pain shot up my arm, and I gasped.

"I have work to do, Julian," I said. My voice was small and shaky. The room felt tiny, like there was no oxygen left. I put both my hands on his chest and pushed with all my power. He did not move at all. He felt like a heavy stone wall.

He took another step closer. He trapped my body between his chest and the cold metal edge of a tall filing cabinet. I smelled his expensive perfume, his sweat, and his hot skin. It made my head dizzy.

"Look at me," he commanded.

I tilted my face up, but I looked at his blue silk necktie instead of his eyes.

He lifted his free hand. His rough thumb grabbed my chin and forced my face up until I had to look at him. His dark eyes were wide and black, like two empty holes. He was looking at the small skin on my neck, watching my blood beat fast under the skin.

"No good morning hun? he whispered. His thumb dragged over my lower lip, pushing hard until my mouth opened. "You don't get to act like I am invisible, Tamara. Not in my building. Not anywhere."

His fingers slid into my hair at the back of my neck. He pulled my head back further. Then, he pressed his lips to the skin under my ear. It was a hot, heavy kiss that made a cold shock run all the way down to my feet. My hands stopped pushing his chest. My fingers clenched his shirt, gathering the pricey fabric in my fists.

He was a fake, and a bossy liar.

"Is this how you start the morning with her, too?" I shouted right at his face. The words came out hot, angry, and ugly in the small room.

Julian stopped moving. His mouth stayed an inch away from my skin. His big chest puffed out as he took a slow, quiet breath. He was not in a hurry. He moved his head back enough to look down at me. His face became cold and hard.

"With whom?" he asked.

"Your fucking secretary," I hissed. "Right there in your office. You must've enjoyed it, didn't you? Letting me walk in on you while you fucked your secretary." I shook my head, disgust twisting my stomach. "You're no different from every other man. Do you corner her in empty rooms too? Mess with her head just to prove you own her?”

A slow, evil smile appeared on the right corner of his mouth. He was not angry. He was not sad. His dark eyes flashed with a dangerous light that made my heart jump like a scared little cat.

He bent his head down until his lips touched my ear. "Are you fucking jealous?" he whispered.

"No why would I..."

"You are burning up with jealousy," he growled. His hand squeezed my waist so hard that his fingers dug into my hips through my skirt.

Before I could speak another word, his mouth crashed down on mine.

It was not a gentle kiss. He used his big, heavy body to pin me flat against the metal cabinet. His mouth forced mine open. He slid his warm tongue deep inside my mouth, stopping my angry words before I could say them. The taste of him strong coffee, fresh mint, and dark heat filled my brain. It destroyed every safe thought I had. I tried to pull my head back, but his strong fingers held my hair tight, pinning my face right where he wanted it.

My knees buckled, but he caught me before I could fall his arm wrapping heavy around my waist, yanking my hips so hard against his that there was no space left between us. The thick, hard ridge of his cock pressed right against me through our clothes, sending a hot, mean pulse straight to my core.

His left hand slid down, fingers digging into my ass, pulling me up into him until I couldn't breathe. I lost it. My hands left his shirt and scrambled up his neck, nails digging straight into his skin just to stay attached to him.

A raw, wet groan tore out of my throat, but he didn't let me keep it his mouth crushed down over mine, tongue pushing in deep to swallow the sound right out of me.

He leaned all his weight into me, kissing me harder, deeper, faster. His hand moved up my side, fingers sliding over my ribs, squeezing through the fabric of my bra. My knees melted beneath me.

No. He was doing it again. Every time I got close to the truth, he found a way to throw me off balance. Derek. The painting. The locked room. His mother. He wasn't trying to win me over, he was trying to stop me from thinking.

I tore my mouth away from his, chest heaving, and looked up into his eyes.

"What about your mother?" The words hit the room like a gunshot.

His hand loosened on my waist. His jaw tightened. A small muscle twitched beneath his skin. Then, his breath caught once, as if something squeezed his chest. For half a second, his eyes weren't cold at all. They were afraid.

Then the mask came back down, brick by brick.

He stepped back and straightened his jacket. His voice, when it came, was dead. "Get back to your desk."

He walked out. The door clicked shut behind him.

I stayed against the cold metal cabinet, hands still trembling.

I hadn't imagined it. I'd found the crack.

The one thing powerful enough to make the mighty Julian Cross lose control for even a second was his mother.

What could scare a man who owned half this city?

I pushed away from the cupboard.

Something caught my eye.

A photograph lay half-hidden under the shelving unit, face down. It seemed to have slipped from Julian's pocket when he grabbed me.

I bent down slowly. With trembling fingers, I turned it over.