Forbidden Balance - A Dark CEO Romance

The conference room on the 47th floor of the Voss Tower roch after expensive wood, fresh

boiled espresso and barely encased power. The glass front offered a

breathtaking view over Frankfurt by night – a sea of lights that stands up to

to the horizon. But no one saw. All eyes were on the man

Head end of long table directed.

Alexander Voss.

He sat back in his black leather armchair, the long legs casual

as if not only the space belonged to him, but the whole city.

The tailor-made shirt spanned slightly above its wide chest,

Tie sat perfectly, but the top button was opened – a tiny rebellion

against your own perfection. With 38 years he was one of the youngest self-made

billionaires in Europe. And the most dangerous.

His dark eyes scand the present like a predator that his prey

taxed. Every syllable he spoke was precise, deep and carried this natural authority,

no objection.

"The figures for the last quarter are acceptable. But it is not enough for me to be acceptable.”

His voice filled the room, deep and velvety, with a slight rough undertone. ‘I

wants dominant. I want our competition to stop sleeping at night.”

Lena Moreau sat three places further right, the legs tightly pressed under

Table. Her heart beat too fast. She had spent weeks on this moment

prepared – studied files, analyzed balance sheets, perfected their mask. As an external

Financial specialist should check the Voss Group for heart and kidneys. No

knew that she was looking far more than just irregularities.

But at this moment she felt naked.

When Alexander Voss’ look first fell on her, the time stopped. For

Part of a second narrowed his eyes. He slowly patterned them – from the

rigorously raised dark curls over the white blouse, which is somewhat too narrow

to her full boobs, to her red lips she just unconsciously

moistened.

“And you are?” he asked without taking a look.

Lena blew up. Her voice sounded stronger than she expected. “Lena Moreau. I

conduct the external audit for the coming weeks.”

A tiny, dangerous smile at his mouth. “Moreau.

French name. Interesting.” He leaned against something, supported the lower arms on

the table. The muscles under his shirt were marked. ‘Then hope

I, you understand hard numbers, Mrs Moreau. And on even harder

Truths.”

The air in the room suddenly seemed thicker. Some of the managers present slipped

restless on her chairs. Lena kept his eye. She was not allowed to look away.

Not now.

“I do not fear hard numbers or hard truths, Mr Voss,”

she replied calmly. “I wouldn’t be here anytime.”

For a moment it was still dead. Then Alexander laughed quietly – a dark, deep

Noise that drove right between her legs. Some of the men at the table

relaxed. Others seemed insecure.

The meeting continued, but Lena felt his gaze again and again.

Every time she looked up, he was there. Checking. Hungry.

After the meeting she remained consciously still sitting, sorting her records. Most

Participants quickly left the room as if they could no longer

tolerate. Only Alexander remained.

He got up, knocked his jacket and slowly approached her. His steps were

measured, self-safe. He smelled like expensive wood, musk and something dangerous.

“They are younger than I expected,” he said quietly as he stands next to her chair.

remained. Too close.

Lena also rose. She was great for a woman, but next to him she felt

small. Female. Supplied – in the best way.

“And you are exactly as you say,” she answered, the head slightly raised.

“Oh yes?” He raised an eyebrow. “And what do you say about me, Mrs Moreau?”

“That you are unconscious. Brilliant. And that you always get what you want.”

A slow, knowing smile spread on his face. He was still

one step closer. Now they separated only a few centimeters. She could

Feel the warmth of his body.

“Fast always,” he corrected quietly. His voice was barely more than a riot now.

“I have to do some convincing work.”

His eyes briefly migrated to her lips, then deeper, for the fraction of a second

on the approach of her breasts, which was visible through the opened blouse. Lena's breath

went faster. Between her legs, a treacherous heat spread out.

She knew that was dangerous. She knew she was here to fall him down

or at least its group. And yet she could not deny how much

her body reacted to him.

“Then you should try better, Mr Voss,” she whispered challengingly.

For a moment, she thought he was here and now against the conference table.

press. The performance made her knee soft.

But he only smiled dark, lifted a hand, and almost stroked her with the thumb

innocent a loose hair strand behind the ear. The touch burned like fire

her skin.

‘Welcome in the Voss Group, Lena’. He used her first name. ‘I

I look forward to our close cooperation.”

Then he turned and left the room without looking around again.

Lena stayed back, the hands supported on the table, the heart razing. Between

her legs stabbed it treacherously.

She knew one thing very sure at this moment:

This would not just be a job.

This would destroy them – or make them more alive than ever.