11

“You shouldn't be walking through the corporate district alone at this hour,” he says over his shoulder.

“I think I’m perfectly capable of walking to my own room without an executive escort,” she responds, looking around at the quiet gardens.

“Worried Keaton won't be around to handle your problems for you?” he asks, a bitter edge in his tone.

Maribel huffs, picking up her pace until she is walking right beside him. “I can take care of my own problems.”

“Who taught you how to navigate high-stakes corporate conflict?” he asks abruptly.

Maddox towers over her, his presence utterly dominant. Maribel wraps her arms tightly around herself, exhaling a quiet breath. “My mother and father. But mostly my mother, Colette. She was always paranoid about the Sterling family squeezing us out of our family business.” She stops short, swallowing the hard lump in her throat. She shouldn't have revealed something so personal to the man who holds her family’s debt.

“I see,” Maddox says softly, casting a brief, intense look down at her. “She isn't from the corporate elite, is she?”

Maribel shakes her head, staring down at the stone path. “No. She built everything from nothing.”

“And you think that’s why you don't feel like you belong at the Sterling Business Academy?”

Maribel lets out a sudden, dry laugh that catches Maddox entirely off guard. “I don't belong here because I don't have a multi-million-dollar safety net backing my name.”

“That isn't going to remain true for long,” he says quietly, his voice dropping an octave.

He glances off toward the glowing entrance of the residence building ahead. The lower lobby is softly lit, empty of any activity.

“Your stop,” Maddox says, coming to a halt.

An unexpected pang of disappointment settles in Maribel’s chest, though she forces herself to maintain a neutral face. “I guess so.”

She turns and takes a step toward the glass doors, wondering why every step away from him feels like leaving something vital behind.

“Hey,” Maddox calls out.

Maribel turns back around.

“Keep yourself out of Sloane’s sight,” he instructs, his eyes locking onto hers with fierce intensity.

Maribel offers a faint, sharp smile. “We’ll see about that.”

Maddox Sterling stands near the edge of the manicured lawn, watching the glass doors of the intern building swing shut behind Maribel Westbrook. He has never felt a distraction like this before. It feels as if a long-buried instinct has suddenly awakened inside him, pulling him toward a girl who represents everything his family’s board of directors despises. He hadn't planned on following her when she walked away from the networking reception, but he couldn't stop himself.

Even earlier that afternoon, when she stood her ground against Sloane Everhart despite having no corporate backing, her sheer resilience had ignited something dangerous in his chest. She was completely exposed, yet she refused to break.

Maddox runs a heavy hand through his dark hair, pacing slightly in the quiet night air. She is entirely different from the polished, shallow socialites who populate the Sterling Executive Institute. She doesn't address him with the usual terrified deference, and he finds himself utterly captivated by her defiance. When she turned to look at him in the dark lane, the raw attraction between them was so overwhelming it felt physical.

It infuriated him that she had no idea how deeply he was becoming bound to her, or how complicated their situation really was. He remembered standing near the residence wing, making sure no predatory junior executive tried to corner her on her walk back. The way every ambitious associate at the party had stared at her like a prize to be exploited made his blood boil. He wanted to pull her behind his authority and claim her position permanently under his protection.

Yet the realities of the Sterling Group were relentless. Taking an intern without a prominent family name as a corporate partner was unheard of in his family. But Maddox couldn't care less about board traditions right now. He had already been arranged to marry Harlow—Briar Kensington—to merge their families' massive real estate portfolios. Fulfilling an arranged corporate alliance was standard practice, but now he was caught between a cold business contract and an overwhelming obsession with Maribel Westbrook. If Briar discovered how much Maribel affected him, she would destroy the girl’s career before the week was out.

The heavy mahogany door to his private suite swings open. Maddox turns on his side on the lounge sofa as Briar steps into the room, surrounded by the subtle scent of expensive French perfume.

“We have a board schedule to review, sleepyhead,” Briar says sharply, tapping her heels against the hardwood floor.

Maddox groans, sitting up slowly. “You’re my corporate betrothed, Briar, not my executive secretary.”

“You’re in a terrible mood,” Briar snaps, folding her arms.

Maddox rubs his face with both hands, the morning sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows to remind him of his endless obligations. All he can think about is finding a reason to summon Maribel to his office. Briar steps closer, resting her manicured hand on his knee, forcing him to look up at her.

“You’ve been completely distant lately, Maddox. What is going on with you?”

Maddox scrutinizes her face, noticing the total lack of warmth or genuine connection in her eyes. It is all transaction. It has always been a transaction.

“Nothing,” he says coolly, looking away. “I’ll be downstairs for the executive board briefing in a few minutes.”

Briar scowls, stepping closer and leaning down to lock her hands on his shoulders, pinning him against the back of the sofa. “Want me to help you focus on our alliance?” she asks, her voice dropping into a low, persuasive purr.

Maddox grabs her wrists, firmly pulling her hands off him. He is in no mood for corporate games. “No, Briar. I have work to attend to.”

Briar shoves his chest and lets out an angry hiss. “You are completely insufferable, Maddox! I’ll see you at the board meeting.” She storms out of the suite, slamming the door behind her.

Maddox stands up and heads down to the grand dining conference room. The rest of the Sterling Group executive board is already deep in a heated debate. Corbin Prescott, the senior advisor who thinks he controls the entire institute, is leading the conversation at the head of the table. Briar hasn't saved Maddox a seat, so he settles into a leather chair at the far end of the long mahogany table.

With everyone shouting over each other, Maddox can barely track the petty political maneuvering.

“Alright, Corbin, what the hell is this emergency meeting about?” Maddox barks, his voice cutting through the noise and instantly silencing the room.

Corbin shrugs casually. “It’s not my initiative this time, Sterling. The Waverly Group is proposing that we reinstate the competitive intern performance trials for the upcoming board review.”

Maddox’s eyes snap toward Callan Waverly on the opposite side of the table. “Why on earth would we bring back those barbaric trial evaluations?” he sneers. Why does he suddenly care so much?

“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Sloane Everhart beams from her seat next to Keaton.

Maddox isn't surprised. Sloane thrives on using institutional pressure to crush anyone beneath her social standing.

“It’s absurd,” Keaton Waverly interjects, leaning forward with a glare. “The historical trial metrics were phased out because they destroyed viable talent without cause.”

“They were modified to test high-pressure asset management,” Callan Waverly counters smoothly. “It worked exceptionally well for partner firms when their junior analysts needed to prove their value under extreme market stress.”

“As long as we retain the rule where an underperforming intern loses their corporate placement and gets blacklisted, I am more than willing to vote yes,” Sloane says with a cold, cruel smile.

Maddox’s fingers dig sharply into the edge of the mahogany table. For a split second, he forgets he is sitting in a room full of corporate directors. The cold, murderous glare he shoots across the table at Sloane is enough to freeze the breath in her throat. If he looks at her a second longer, his restraint will completely shatter. He notices Keaton giving Sloane a similar sharp look, and the sight of Keaton acting protective over intern matters makes Maddox’s pulse spike with pure, unadulterated aggression.

Maddox violently shoves his leather chair back and stands up. He doesn't give a damn about their board debates or how other firms treat their junior staff. He leaves the room without another word, heading toward the private executive gym located in the east wing near the archive rooms. If he doesn't hit a heavy bag for the next two hours, he is going to snap someone’s neck.

As he approaches the gym entrance, familiar voices echo from the corridor near the private archives.

“How long do you think you’ll be out of the office?” a voice asks.

“I don't know, a few days. Five days maximum,” Keaton Waverly’s voice replies. “But I can't leave her unmonitored while I’m dealing with the Waverly Lakefront Estate restructuring. You know how stubborn Maribel is.”

Maddox freezes near the corner, his jaw clenching tightly. Keaton is talking about Maribel.

“Yeah... she’s definitely a handful,” Wesley Mercer replies with a low laugh. “What exactly do you want me to do while you’re gone?”

“Keep a close eye on her,” Keaton instructs firmly. “Make sure she doesn't realize you’re tracking her movements. If she finds out we’re interfering with her mother’s account, she’ll blow up the entire agreement.”

“She’d probably try to fight both of us,” Wesley mutters. “Just keep her out of trouble.”

Maddox lets out a dark, silent smirk at the thought of Maribel taking on a senior associate. She had already proven she had more backbone than half the men in this building. But as Keaton and Wesley step out into the hallway, Maddox’s expression hardens into ice. He steps into view, casting Keaton a sharp, lethal glance.

Maddox has an old score to settle with Keaton Waverly regarding family equity, but Maribel Westbrook is rapidly becoming the real battleground between them. Maddox enters the private gym, grabbing a set of heavy iron plates to load onto the bench. He is going to be here for hours. Getting Maribel Westbrook out of his head is going to be far harder than he ever imagined, but one thing is absolute—he will use every dollar of the Sterling Group’s fortune to ensure she belongs to no one else.